Unseen (30 page)

Knutas and Jacobsson were plodding toward Österlånggatan, which appealed to Knutas more than the commercial street of Västerlånggatan. On the eastern street there were more galleries, handicraft shops, and restaurants.

That was also the location of the shop where Gunilla Olsson’s pottery was sold. In the shop window facing the street, various ceramic objects were on display. A bell rang as they opened the door.

There were no customers in the shop. The owner was a stylish woman in her sixties.

Knutas introduced himself and his colleague, explaining why they were there.

The woman’s face took on a worried expression. “It’s so horrible, all those murders. Completely incomprehensible.”

“Yes,” Knutas agreed. “As I understand it, you sold Gunilla’s pottery in your shop. How long have you been doing that?”

“Only a few months. Things were going well for her. I saw her work at a show on Gotland this past winter, and I fell for it at once. She was talented. My customers thought so, too. I would sell out of her work almost as soon as the pieces were delivered. These bowls are especially popular,” she said, pointing to a tall, wide bowl with lots of small hollows in it. The bowl was enthroned on its own shelf.

“Did Gunilla talk much about her personal life?” asked Jacobsson.

“No. She was very reserved. We didn’t have much personal contact. Usually we talked on the phone. Somebody else took care of the deliveries. She came to visit my shop once in the spring, and I was over on Gotland and saw her just a few weeks ago.”

“What did the two of you do?”

“Well, I was staying at a hotel in Visby. There were several artists that I wanted to visit. One day I went out to her farm, and it was quite pleasant. We had lunch and looked at her workshop.”

“You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, not at all.”

“Did she tell you about any new people she had met, maybe a boyfriend?”

“No, but there was actually a young man who stopped by. We were just having lunch, and he didn’t want to disturb her when she had visitors. He greeted me very politely at any rate, and we talked for a bit before he left.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“His name was Henrik. I remember it well because that’s my brother’s name.”

“What about his last name?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did they seem to be close friends?”

“Well, that’s hard to say. He just stopped by very briefly. I had the feeling that he lived nearby, that maybe he was a neighbor.”

“How would you describe him?” asked Knutas.

“He was about her age. Tall and well built. Thick ash-blond hair. And he had especially beautiful eyes. I think they were green.”

It’s great how artists have such a keen sense of observation
, thought Knutas. “Was there anything else you noticed?”

“Yes. Even though I had the feeling that he was a neighbor, he couldn’t have come from När originally because he had a real Stockholm accent. I wouldn’t bet five öre that he was from Gotland.”

Knutas’s cell phone rang. He heard Kihlgård’s agitated voice saying that the clothing of the murdered women had been found by some young people in a fishing shack in Nisseviken.

Knutas quickly cut short the conversation, thanking the woman for her help. Then he and Jacobsson went back out to the street.

He told her about the clothes. “We might as well go back home,” he said. “We’ve done just about everything we can here, and he’s on Gotland. That much is clear.”

A couple of hours later they were sitting on a plane, on their way back to Visby.

Emma hadn’t slept well. She had the feeling that it was very early when she awoke. She glanced at the clock. Only five thirty.

Olle lay next to her. He seemed to be sound asleep. His mouth was wide open, and with every exhalation she could smell his bad breath. She got up and went into the bathroom. As she sat down to pee, the thought of Johan flitted past, but in the next second she pushed it aside. Everything was going to be fine between her and Olle now. She turned on the shower and enjoyed the feeling of the water washing over her body. She wrapped a bath towel around herself and went back to lie down beside Olle and put her head right next to his.
Of course I love him
, she thought at the same time as a tiny bit of doubt intruded.
He’s my Olle, after all
.

How tired she was of herself! All this vacillating back and forth. Why couldn’t she make up her mind about how she felt?

She sat up and looked at him. He was lying there, unaware that she was studying him, naked and as vulnerable as a child. Maybe she didn’t love him anymore. Maybe it was over. The thought made her dizzy. The father of her children. But wasn’t the whole point to be in love and cherish someone? She had given him her promise for life. To love him in sickness and in health. What about if she no longer felt attracted to him?

Her gaze slid over his forehead and eyelids. She wondered what was hidden inside, what his thoughts were.

What about the children? Their two wonderful children. As parents they had a responsibility that was as big as the universe.

And what about herself? What sort of person was she, to be willing to give up everything so hastily and risk her whole way of life? It was so perilous. How did she dare? It wasn’t just a matter of her and Olle. This had to do with the future of her entire family. The children’s future.

At the same time, the fact that she had fallen in love with Johan was making her rise and fall like a ship on a stormy sea.

She got up, went out to the kitchen, and lit a cigarette, even though it was only six fifteen. She didn’t worry about the fact that she was smoking indoors. There would be time enough to air it out before the children came home.

Her thoughts shifted with each new puff. Maybe she should just wait. Accept her inner turmoil. She didn’t have to make a decision right now. Better just to wait for a while. See how things went.

She didn’t want to spend any more energy on thinking about her chaotic emotional life.

Suddenly her cell phone rang. She took it out of her purse and punched the button for text messages.

CAN’T SLEEP. CAN YOU? / JOHAN.

She went out on the steps and called him.

He answered at once. “Yes?”

A red flame spread from her head to her stomach and out into her arms to the very tips of her fingers.

“Hi. It’s me. Emma.”

“Hi. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“When can we meet?”

“I don’t know. Olle is home right now. We had a talk. He’s going back to be with the children today. They’re at Olle’s brother’s house in Burgsvik. His parents are there, too.”

“So we can meet, can’t we?”

“I don’t know. How?”

“If your husband is going to be away, you’ll be alone. I can come out to see you.”

“Here? No, that’s impossible, you must realize that. We can’t meet here at my house.”

“Then you could come here.”

“I can’t keep sneaking around, scared to death that somebody will see me.”

An idea popped into Emma’s head. It was crazy, of course, but what the hell.

“I just remembered that I have to go out to my parents’ house on Fårö one of these days. No one’s there. They’re away on a long vacation, and I promised to keep an eye on the house for them. I was thinking of taking along my friend Viveka and staying for a few days. You could come with me instead. I’d like to get out of here today. I’m going crazy here at home. I really need to get away. The house is right on the sea. It’s an amazing place.”

“What about your friend?”

“That’s no problem. I’m sure that Viveka can come later. I’ll talk to her. She actually knows about you.”

“She does?” He felt his cheeks burning and couldn’t help feeling flattered.

“That sounds great, but I can’t stay for several days. I’ve got work to do, what with the latest murder and all. But one night should be all right, and I can start work a little later tomorrow. I won’t be ready to leave until about six this evening, though.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll go out there first.”

Emma went back inside the house. The feeling of doom in her body was mixed with anticipation and a dose of guilt.

When Olle woke up, she served him breakfast in bed.

“I’ve come to a decision,” she said. “I need time to think. I have to have some space. So much has been happening lately. I really don’t know what to make of it all. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“But last night you said . . .” He sounded disappointed.

“I know, but I’m still not sure,” she apologized. “About us. I don’t know what we have left anymore. Or maybe it’s just everything with Helena and these murders. I need to get away.”

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “I know this has been really rough on you. What are you going to do?”

“Well, first of all, I’m going out to my parents’ house. I promised to keep an eye on it anyway. I’m going there today.”

“Alone?”

“No. Viveka said she’d go with me. I’ve already talked to her.” She felt a pang in her heart. Yet another lie. It was scary to see how easy it was to lie.

“I was hoping you’d come with me today, you know. What should I tell the kids?”

“Tell them the truth. That I have to go out and take care of their grandparents’ house for a few days.”

“Okay,” said Olle. “I’m sure they’ll understand, and you’ll have a lot of time to spend together the rest of the summer.”

She felt guilty that he was being so understanding.
It would almost be easier if he got mad
, she thought. A feeling of irritation rose inside her.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” was all she said, giving him a quick hug.

Knutas had asked Kihlgård to call everyone in for a meeting at police headquarters that afternoon, after he and Jacobsson got back to Gotland. Knutas started the meeting.

“So we’ve found what we think are the clothes of the victims inside a fishing shack in Nisseviken. They’re being analyzed right now by our techs before they’re sent on to SCL. The shack has been cordoned off, and we’re in the process of investigating who the owner is. It was apparently abandoned and hasn’t been used in years. Family members are on their way here to identify the items of clothing. This discovery proves that the killer is probably here on Gotland, so we need to focus all our investigative work here from now on. In the meantime, what else have we found out that’s new?”

“We received an answer today regarding the fingerprints on the asthma inhaler that was found on Gunilla Olsson’s property,” said Kihlgård. “There was no match with any prints in police records. We’ve checked to see who among the victims’ circle of friends had asthma or some similar kind of respiratory allergy. It turns out that both Jan Hagman and Kristian Nordström suffer from asthma. Later today their inhalers will be compared with the one found at Gunilla Olsson’s home.”

“Good,” said Knutas. “What did your interviews with them turn up?”

“Regarding the interview with Jan Hagman, we confronted him with the question of why he didn’t tell us about the abortion when we were out at his place earlier. He gave us a reasonably credible explanation. He didn’t think the abortion was of any importance to us. Also, his children don’t know about his relationship with Helena Hillerström, so he didn’t want to go into too many details. During the time we were there, he seemed terrified that his son might hear what we were talking about.”

“I can understand that,” said Knutas. “We should have asked him to come here instead. What about Nordström?”

“It seemed incomprehensible that he kept on stubbornly insisting that he never had any relations with Helena. When we told him about the letters, he caved in and admitted it at once. On the other hand, he couldn’t explain why he had previously denied it. He just said that he didn’t want to be considered a suspect.”

“What else?”

“Witnesses have told us that a strange man was seen at Gunilla Olsson’s house during the past few weeks. He was seen at her property both in the morning and in the evening, so it’s not unlikely that we’re talking about a boyfriend,” Kihlgård continued. “The witnesses describe him as tall and good-looking, and about the same age as Gunilla.”

“Have the witnesses had a look at any photographs? Of Kristian Nordström or Jan Hagman, for instance?”

“No, they haven’t,” Kihlgård admitted, a bit shamefaced.

“Why is that?”

“To be quite honest, I don’t have a good answer for that. Does anyone else?” Kihlgård looked around at his colleagues.

“We just have to acknowledge that it’s something we failed to do. It simply fell through the cracks,” said Wittberg.

“See that it’s done. Right after the meeting,” said Knutas sternly. “What about the alibis for Nordström and Hagman? Have they been checked out again?”

“Yes,” replied Sohlman, “and they seem to hold up.”

“Seem to?”