Dark Secrets (51 page)

A Volvo S60.

A 2002–2004 model.

She knew exactly who owned a car like that.

They arrived at a desk with a uniformed officer sitting behind it. Vanja said something to him and he got up and grabbed his jacket. Lena shook her head. She could guess what the woman had said.

“I don’t need a ride, thank you. If you could just show me the way out? I’ve got a few things to do in town.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“Quite sure. But thank you.”

She shook hands with Vanja. The policeman hung up his jacket and led her down the corridor to the front doors.

A few things to do in town.

To say the least.

Well, one thing, in particular.

Vanja met up with the others in the conference room. Before she went in she could see that Torkel was looking unusually frustrated, pacing the room with his fists clenched. If she hadn’t still been in a bad mood she would no doubt have thought he looked quite comical, circling the table where Sebastian and Billy were sitting. She pushed open the door. Sebastian stopped talking when she came in. She refused to look him in the eye.

Her anger was not rational. It was Valdemar who had blabbed too much. He was the one who had ruined their evening. Who had invited Sebastian to join them, given him an advantage over her. Made him seem more important, ascribed far more significance to him than was actually the case. That was all down to Valdemar. But Sebastian had every intention of making full use of his newly acquired knowledge, she could feel it.

No, she
knew
it.

And she hated it.

She positioned herself next to the door and folded her arms. Torkel glanced at her. She looked tired. Fuck it, they were all tired. Worn out. Irritable. More than usual. Perhaps it wasn’t all down to the Sebastian effect. This was an unusually tricky investigation.

Torkel nodded to Sebastian to continue.

“I said that if he backed in because he knew there was a camera there, then it doesn’t just mean that he’s a master of strategy and concealment and anticipation. It means he’s toying with us. In which case we should assume that even if we find the right car, we won’t find any evidence.”

Vanja nodded reluctantly. That sounded reasonable.

“We can’t be sure,” Billy replied. “That he knew about the camera, I mean. It covers only one side of the street, which is a cul-de-sac. He could have turned in here…” He got up, went over to the map on the wall, and used the tip of his pen to illustrate the possible scenario. “And backed in instead of turning around.”

Torkel stopped circling and looked at Billy and the map.

“So if he didn’t know there was a camera there… If he’d backed in another two yards, we would have seen who was driving.”

“Yes.”

Torkel looked as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Two yards! Were they two yards from solving this fucking case?

“Why the hell aren’t we getting anywhere?”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. He was beginning to get used to
Torkel’s bad moods. If it had been about something he had done or failed to do, he would probably have reacted differently, but this wasn’t about him, he was sure of it. It was more likely to be something to do with Ursula. At that moment she pushed open the door, carrying a cup of coffee and a bag from the local newsagent’s.

“Sorry I’m late.” Ursula put down her things and pulled out a chair.

“How’s Mikael?”

Was it Billy’s imagination, or was Torkel’s voice a little gentler? More sympathetic?

“He’s gone home.”

Billy looked at Ursula with genuine amazement. Not that it was anything to do with him, but even so.

“I thought he only got here last night?”

“Yes.”

“So it was just a flying visit?”

“Yes.”

Torkel could tell from Ursula’s tone of voice that this was the last he would hear about Mikael’s visit, unless she herself brought it up later, which was unlikely. He watched her take a cheese roll and a yogurt drink out of the plastic bag as she looked around the room.

“What have I missed?”

“I’ll brief you later. Let’s move on.”

Torkel waved to Billy, who went back to his seat and his papers.

“This isn’t going to make you feel any better. I’ve checked the vehicle register. There are two hundred sixteen black, dark blue, or dark gray Volvo S60s, 2002 to 2004 model, in Västerås. If we include the surrounding areas such as Enköping, Sala, Eskilstuna, and so on, we’re up around the five hundred mark.”

Torkel couldn’t bring himself to respond; he merely clenched his fists a little more tightly. Sebastian looked up at Billy.

“How many of those are linked to Palmlövska High? If we cross-reference the vehicle register with parents and employees?”

Billy looked at Sebastian.

“We can’t do that. Well, it would have to be done manually. Which would take quite some time.”

“In that case I think we should make a start. Everything so far has led us to that damn school.” Billy thought Sebastian’s suggestion was a good idea, but you didn’t need a qualification in behavioral science to realize that the underlying irritation within the team could be traced back to Sebastian’s involvement in their work. Billy had no intention of expressing any views on Sebastian’s proposal until Torkel had made it known where he stood. But Torkel was nodding too.

“Good idea. But I want us to go through every single video feed, from every single camera, at the same time. I want that fucking car found!”

Billy sighed audibly when he heard this.

“That’s not something I can do on my own.”

“No problem. I’ll have a word with Hanser. Sebastian will help you in the meantime. It’s time he did a bit of real detective work.”

For a second Sebastian considered telling Torkel to go to hell. Cross-referencing the vehicle register and going through CCTV video footage were the last things he wanted to do, but just as he was about to utter the harsh words, he stopped himself. He’d stuck it out for this long and he didn’t intend to be driven out now. Not until the case was solved. Not until he’d gotten the address he wanted. It would be stupid to burn bridges with the one person who might be able to help him in his search for Anna Eriksson. The real reason he was here. So instead Sebastian gave Billy a surprisingly big smile.

“Of course, Billy—you just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Are you any good with computers?”

Sebastian shook his head. Torkel stomped angrily around the room one more time; he’d tried to start a fight with his old friend, partly because he needed to vent a general feeling of irritation, and partly because he wanted to show Ursula that he wasn’t letting Sebastian get away with everything. But even that hadn’t worked. Sebastian got to his feet and patted Billy on the shoulder.

“Let’s get started then.”

Torkel marched out, still furious.

Lena hadn’t gone straight there. The resolve she had felt at the police station had begun to falter after she had been out in the fresh air for a while. What if she was wrong? What if it wasn’t the same car? Even worse, what if she was right? What would she do then?

She took a walk through the new shopping mall that had opened the previous autumn. The construction had gone on for several years, and sometimes the residents of Västerås had thought it would never be finished. Lena wandered aimlessly across the shiny stone floors, gazing into the huge, brightly lit shop windows. It was still early, the shops weren’t open yet, and she was virtually alone inside the new jewel in the crown of Västerås. The stores were starting to advertise this year’s summer fashions—that’s what the posters claimed with great conviction—but Lena couldn’t see any difference from the previous year’s trends. And, in any case, nothing that was on display would look the same on her as it did on the stick-thin mannequins.

Besides, she really did have other things to think about apart from trivial matters such as shopping. That little voice was back. The one she had more or less managed to suppress over the past few days.

Perhaps that was why it was now louder than ever.

It was you!

You know that now!

It was your fault!

She had to find out if the voice was right, she knew that. But it was so painful, so agonizing even to go near that possibility. Especially now, when it seemed as if there was no chance of denying it any longer. The dark-colored car in the video had made sure of that.

In a coffee shop in the middle of the mall a young girl was busy arranging freshly baked Danish pastries and cakes in the huge glass display case. There was the sweet smell of sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon.
A memory of another life, away from all the hurtful thoughts; Lena felt she needed to return to that life, if only for a little while. She managed to persuade the girl to sell her a Danish even though the coffee shop wasn’t open yet. She chose an excessively large vanilla pastry with far too much sugar on it. The girl placed it in a paper bag and handed it to her. Lena thanked her and took a few steps toward the door before taking the pastry out of the bag. It was soft and still warm. That other life haunted her for a moment, and she greedily took a big bite. When the taste became real and she felt the sugary sweet dough in her mouth, she suddenly felt sick.

How could she even be here? Window-shopping and eating. Standing there trying to enjoy something. Images of Roger came back to her.

His first smile.

His first steps.

School days, birthdays, soccer games.

His final words.

“I’m going now…”

His final steps behind the car.

Lena threw the pastry into a garbage can and set off. She had lost enough time. Ducking out, trying not to dig deeper into what she knew she had to find out.

Did she bear some of the responsibility for the terrible thing that had happened?

More than that.

Was she the guilty party?

That’s what the little voice kept on insisting.

She scurried through the town. Her body wasn’t used to such speed. Her lungs were working hard, and she could feel the strain in her mouth. But she didn’t slow down. She headed purposefully for the place she hated most of all.

The place that had been the beginning of the end for her and Roger.

The place that had made her feel so inferior, so utterly worthless.

Palmlövska High.

Lena found what she was looking for at the back of the school. First of all she had walked up and down in the big parking lot in front of the building without finding it, before taking a turn around the school in her frustration. She came across a smaller parking lot right next to the door of the cafeteria.

And there it was.

A dark blue Volvo.

Just as she had suspected.

Just as she had feared.

The feeling of nausea came back. The thoughts came crowding in again. This was the car he had gotten into. Her Roger. On that Friday, which was so recent but in some strange way seemed like an eternity ago. There was just one thing left to do. Lena went around to the back of the car and crouched down on the left-hand side. She didn’t know whether the police had noticed—they hadn’t mentioned it—but when the car on the screen had indicated and left the street, you could clearly see that the glass on the rear nearside light had been repaired with tape.

Lena had seen it, anyway. Roger had brought a letter home from school a few weeks ago: a dry, accusatory note explaining that both rear lights of the car had been found vandalized. A provisional repair had been carried out, but it was expected that the guilty party would own up and pay for the job to be done properly. She didn’t know what had happened after that. She ran her fingers over the wide tape. As if she hoped that time would freeze, and nothing else would happen. Ever.

But it would. This was just the start. She knew that. She got up and took a few steps around the car. She touched the cold metal. Perhaps his fingers had also touched it here. Or here. She kept on moving. Tried to work out where his fingers might have touched the car. One of the doors, definitely. The front passenger door, probably. She tried it. Cold and locked. Lena leaned against the car and peered inside. Dark, plain upholstery. Nothing on the floor. A small amount of change in the little hollow between the seats. Nothing else.