Dark Secrets (38 page)

So he simply answered, “He’s on his way,” pulled out a chair, and sat down. He reached across the table, grabbed the thermos, and poured some coffee into a polystyrene cup. “Has Mikael arrived yet?”

Neutral tone of voice. Everyday small talk.

“He’ll be here this afternoon.”

“Lovely.”

“Absolutely.”

Vanja looked up. There was a particular tone between Ursula and Torkel, a tone she couldn’t recall hearing before. A bit like when Mom and Dad didn’t want to give away the fact that they’d been quarreling, when she was little. When they made a huge effort to be polite so that she would think everything was fine. It hadn’t worked then and it didn’t work now. Vanja glanced at Billy; had he picked up on it too? Obviously not. He was absorbed in his laptop.

Sebastian came in, nodded to the assembled company, and sat down. Vanja stole a glance at Ursula, who gave Sebastian a black look, did the same to Torkel, then fixed her gaze on the table. What was going on here? Torkel took a sip of his coffee.

“Okay, Billy, would you like to start us off?”

Billy closed his laptop, picked up a small pile of paper, and got to his feet.

“I received the list of calls from the telephone operator last night and the lists from SKL this morning, so I’ve put them all together in one document.”

He went around handing a sheet of paper to each person. Vanja wondered why he didn’t just put them in the middle of the table and let everyone help themselves. She didn’t say anything, just looked at the first page of her printout.

“The first page is outgoing calls. Roger’s last call was on Friday at eight seventeen, to his class teacher’s home number.” Billy wrote up the call on the timeline on the wall. Sebastian looked up from his list.

“Can you tell if he tried to call anyone after that, but didn’t get an answer?”

“Yes. That was the last call he made.”

“What were you thinking?” asked Vanja, turning to Sebastian.

“He said he wanted to speak to Johan when he called the Strands, didn’t he? But he never tried Johan’s cell.”

Billy turned to face them and shook his head.

“Yes. I mean no, he didn’t.”

“Perhaps something prevented him,” Torkel suggested.

“A murderer, for example,” said Ursula.

“Next page,” Billy went on. “Incoming calls. The last is from Lisa just before half past six. Well, you can see that for yourselves.”

He added that call to the timeline then moved on.

“Next page. Text messages. First of all we have the messages that were left on the water-damaged phone. There aren’t many; most are to and from Johan, Erik, and Lisa. We already knew that Roger wasn’t all that big on friends, so no surprises there. If you could turn to the last page, you’ll see the incoming texts that were deleted, and those are obviously of interest.”

Sebastian skimmed the sheet of paper in front of him. He sat up straight. “Obviously of interest” wasn’t even the half of it.

“Two of them are from a prepaid phone,” Billy went on. “One on the Thursday and one on the Friday, a few hours before he disappeared.”

Sebastian read the first message.

THIS HAS TO STOP NOW! FOR EVERYONE’S SAKE!

And the second.

PLEASE GET IN TOUCH! IT’S ALL MY FAULT! NOBODY IS BLAMING YOU!

Sebastian put down the printout and turned to Billy.

“The technical stuff has never been my strong point; does a prepaid phone mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means we have a number but not the name of a subscriber, then yes,” Billy replied as he wrote up the number. “I’ve requested lists of all calls and messages from that phone, so we’ll see where that takes us.”

Sebastian watched as Vanja unconsciously raised her arm and stuck her index finger in the air while studying the pages in front of her, as if she were putting her hand up in class. For a brief second Sebastian pictured her in school uniform, then immediately dismissed the thought. He had already overstepped enough boundaries in this investigation, and if there was one thing all the years of fleeting relationships had taught him, it was how to recognize more or less instantly when he had a chance and when he didn’t.

“Were the messages written in upper case, in capital letters, on the phone itself, or is it just on the printout?”

Billy looked at Vanja with a certain weariness in his expression.

“I know what upper case means.”

“Sorry.”

“They were written exactly as they are there. In upper case.”

“It’s like shouting.”

“Or perhaps it’s just that the person who wrote the messages wasn’t all that familiar with texting.”

“Most people in that category are older.”

Sebastian read the short messages again and was inclined to agree with Vanja. He didn’t know whether capital letters meant you were shouting or not; however, the choice of words suggested that an adult, an older person, was the sender.

“So we’ve got no chance of finding out who sent these?” Torkel asked, a hint of resignation in his voice. Billy shook his head.

“Has anyone tried ringing the number?”

The room fell silent. Everyone looked at Vanja, who had asked the question, then at one another, and finally at Billy. He leaned over to the phone in the middle of the table, switched it to speakerphone, and keyed in the number. A tense air of expectation filled the room. The number did not ring out. Instead they heard, “The person you are calling is not available. Please try later.”

Billy switched off the speakerphone. Torkel looked at him, his expression serious.

“Make sure somebody keeps trying that number.”

Billy nodded.

“What are the rest of these?” Ursula gestured to the papers in her hand.

Sebastian studied the printout.

One text: 12 beer + vodka.

Next: 20 beer + gin. Followed by a smiley face.

Next: 1 btl red & beer.

And so on.

“These are orders.”

The others looked up.

“For what?”

“For what it says.”

Sebastian turned to Billy.

“When did he get the last of these messages?”

“About a month ago.”

Sebastian met Vanja’s eyes across the table. He could see that she knew where he was going with this, but he said it anyway.

“That was when Axel Johansson got fired for bootlegging.”

Vanja got up and looked at Sebastian, who stared down at his papers. He knew where she wanted to go. To the very place where he didn’t want to go.

Vanja set off toward the house, with Sebastian a few steps behind. At first he had intended to stay in the car, but had quickly realized that
would look odd. Not that he really cared whether Vanja thought he was odd or not. No, it was more a case of pure survival instinct. He had decided that he needed to stay with this investigation for a while longer, at least until Billy had managed to track down an address for him. Beatrice Strand thanking him for a wonderful night would definitely throw a wrench in the works. Vanja didn’t even manage to ring the bell before the door opened. It was Beatrice; she had put her hair up and was wearing a simple blouse and a pair of jeans. She looked surprised.

“Has something happened?”

“We need a word with Johan,” Vanja began.

“He’s not here, he and Ulf have gone camping.” Beatrice looked at Sebastian, but didn’t give the slightest indication that they had seen each other just a few hours ago.

“We know that,” Vanja went on, “but have you any idea where they’ve gone?”

They drove west on the E18. Beatrice’s directions took them past the small community of Dingtuna, then south on small roads heading toward Lake Mälaren and the inlet known as Lilla Blacken, which was where Beatrice thought they would be. Neither Vanja nor Sebastian spoke. Vanja tried calling Peter Westin, but there was still no reply. She was becoming annoyed with the psychologist’s failure to return her calls; she had left four messages by now. Sebastian closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

“Late night?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“No, I just didn’t sleep very well.” He closed his eyes again to make it clear that he wasn’t interested in having a conversation, but was soon forced to open them as Vanja braked sharply.

“What’s going on?”

“Do we turn left or right here? You’re supposed to be navigating.”

“Oh, please.”

“You like making decisions. Now’s your chance.”

Sebastian sighed, picked up the map, and studied it. He didn’t have the strength to fight back. She could have her victory this time.

He hated Västerås.

God, how he hated Västerås.

He felt as if he had seen every single square foot of the town on video footage of varying quality. It had been nice to see something of the place live, so to speak, but the only time he got the opportunity to tear himself away from the tapes was when he was compiling lists of telephone calls or—Billy gave a start. His fingers flew over the keyboard.
Stop. Rewind. Play.
Yes, at last. Ladies and gentlemen, entering from the right: Roger Eriksson.
Stop
again. Billy looked at the key that had arrived with the videos. Which camera was this? 1.22. Drottninggatan. Where was that? Billy grabbed his map of Västerås, searched, found, and marked the place. The time showed in the top corner of the picture: 9:29.

Play.

Billy watched as Roger walked toward the camera with his head bowed, dragging his feet. After about ten yards he looked up, turned off to the right, and disappeared behind a parked car, which was in a side street and out of the picture.

Billy sighed. His joy was short-lived. The boy was alive and had carried on walking. Which meant that Billy had to carry on as well. See more of Västerås, whether he wanted to or not. Roger was heading north. Billy looked at the key again, checked on the map. Discounted a number of cameras that were in the wrong direction and started searching again.

He hated Västerås.

Lilla Blacken was a popular leisure area by an inlet in Lake Mälaren. At least, it was in the summer. Today it seemed to be deserted. They
had driven around on dirt tracks for a while before finding the right place.

A Renault Mégane was parked in front of a dilapidated notice board. Sebastian got out and walked over to the empty car. Thought he recognized it from Beatrice’s house the previous day when they had seen Ulf there. A battered sign on the notice board proclaimed
WELCOME TO LILLA BLACKEN—FRESH AIR AND FUN
. Below the sign a number of notices had been pinned up offering items for sale or exchange, but the winter dampness had blurred most of the text. Information on fishing permits. He turned to Vanja.