Unwanted (15 page)

To make things easier for Ingrid Strand, Peder gave a nod of recognition.

‘Of course that’s how it is sometimes,’ he said gently. ‘Of course we all have other things on our mind.’

When Ingrid met his gaze, there were tears in her eyes.

‘It never occurred to me that she could come to any harm,’ she whispered. ‘The train stopped in Stockholm in the normal way, and we all got up to collect our things and get off. And the conductor, he never came back. I wondered if I ought to do something, but for some reason I felt they must have made arrangements for the little girl.’

Ingrid sighed and a tear rolled down her cheek.

‘I was just leaving the carriage when I saw she’d woken up. She looked round, still a bit dozy. She sat up in her seat and looked all round. And then he just came out of nowhere. All of a sudden I couldn’t see the girl any more, just his back view.’

Peder stared at her.

‘A man came up to her?’ said Jonas, who hadn’t spoken until now.

Ingrid Strand nodded and wiped her eyes.

‘Yes, he did. And he seemed so sure of what he was doing that I thought . . . I just assumed everything was all right. Because when I got out onto the platform, I saw her again.’

Peder sat motionless. His mouth felt dry.

‘The man was holding her in his arms,’ whispered Ingrid. ‘I saw them just outside the other door of the carriage, just as I got out myself. He was holding the girl, and she looked all relaxed. I thought that was good; it must be someone she knew who’d come to pick her up.’

Ingrid blinked a few times.

‘I only saw him from behind. He was tall. Tall and dark. Short hair, and he had a green shirt on, like the one my son-in-law wears when we’re at the cottage. And he was rubbing her back, like a parent would. I saw his hand; he had a big gold ring, a signet ring.’

Peder noted it all down. Was the man tall enough for them to assume he might take size 46 shoes?

‘I saw him whisper something in her ear,’ Ingrid Strand went on, her voice less shaky now, ‘ I saw him talking to her. And she was listening, even though she was hanging there so floppily in his arms.’

It all went quiet, totally quiet. Peder took slow breaths, in and out. Jonas shifted a little, and looked at him. If Ingrid had anything else to tell them, it would be best for neither of them to speak.

Her shoulders slumped and her face had a dejected look.

‘I really didn’t think there was anything wrong when I saw them,’ she said under her breath, and more tears came into her eyes. ‘It was so obvious the girl knew him. I thought he must be her father, in fact.’

Pia Nordh was waiting in Peder’s office when he got back. Peder stopped in the doorway and just stared at her. She had a faint smile on her lips, and Peder could feel his stomach somersault as she moved her head and her pale blonde hair crept towards her heart-shaped face.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ answered Peder, coming into the room.

He looked around him in confusion.
Shit
.

‘I saw I had a missed call from you,’ said Pia, and smiled. ‘I must have picked up just as you ended the call.’

Yes, that was the plan.

Peder was too disconcerted to do anything; he just stood in the middle of the floor facing Pia.
Hell
,
what now?

‘But maybe you’re busy right now?’ Pia ventured softly.

Way too softly.

Peder shook his head fiercely. He took several quick steps past Pia and sat down at a safe distance behind his desk.

He straightened his back. He cleared his throat.
Control, Peder, control.

‘Yes, actually,’ he said in a rather too authoritative tone. ‘I’m working on an important case at the moment. Haven’t really got time to . . . you know, chat. No time for a coffee break just now, if I can put it that way.’

Peder knew he was laying it on thick. In the police, there was always an excuse for a coffee. Saying you had no time for a coffee break was tantamount to signalling you were faced with a very serious situation. Like the king getting shot, or Parliament being blown up by terrorists. But crimes like that would be dealt with by the security services, of course.

The security services. Just imagine getting a job there. Every policeman’s wet dream.

They were interrupted when Ellen Lind rushed in, looking for Peder.

‘Are you nearly ready? Alex wants the feedback from the interview as soon as possible,’ she said, sounding stressed.

Ellen threw a surprised glance at the enchanting Pia, whom she had never seen before, but then looked back at Peder.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he said quickly.

Ellen went out, leaving the door open.

‘Maybe we could have a beer, after work?’ asked Pia with a smile.

Peder grinned back.
Forget her, forget her, forget her.

‘I’ll ring you later,’ he said.

Peder looked at Pia one more time and left the room, relieved to avoid further confrontation with the very individual who personified his transgression, but painfully aware of the desire that seeing her aroused in him.
Forget her, forget her, forget her.

Fate had been kind to Ellen Lind when she was born. Not only had she always been in the best of health, but she also had a number of talents to draw on. One of these was being able to spot when there was a spark between two people. That was how she had discovered her mother had met someone new, so she had not been surprised by her parents’ divorce when it eventually happened. That was also, unfortunately, how she realized her husband was being unfaithful, which was how she had ended up on her own. And it was thanks to this gift, too, though she only had a millisecond to deploy it, that she knew the beautiful woman in Peder’s office was more than just a colleague.

The discovery that Peder was cheating on his wife did not really come as a surprise to Ellen, but it made her absolutely livid. The papers that needed sorting on her desk got the rough treatment. Ellen knew Peder’s wife had spent the last year with the misery of protracted post-natal depression that wasn’t responding to treatment.

Ellen was all too well acquainted with that aspect of the male world not to realize what had happened. Peder had felt sorry for himself and treated himself to a fling. Ellen simply couldn’t understand how that sort of man could live with himself. She couldn’t understand, either, why anybody would want to be with a man on such contemptible terms.

On the other hand, Ellen’s own situation in the love stakes was hardly ideal. Her man friend had just rung back and said something had come up at work that he couldn’t get out of. Ellen had found it hard to hide her disappointment. It was as if he didn’t understand that it wasn’t always easy to juggle a love affair with being a single parent in sole charge of two children.

Talking to him on the phone this time, she had detected an entirely new note. His voice implied she was nagging and childish for voicing her displeasure. Suddenly he had completely changed his tune and more or less given her a telling off. Subtle, but still unmistakable.

‘We’ve got to be reasonable in what we expect of each other,’ he said. ‘It worries me that you’re so set in your ways, so inflexible, Ellen.’

Her first reaction was one of amazement. Then she considered hanging up. In the end she decided to ignore his killjoy comment entirely, and ended the call with a ‘Let’s speak later in the week.’

Why did it have to be so hard –
so hard
– to find a man to have a normal, functioning relationship with?

A
lone on the road, under cover of the rain and the unusually dark sky, Jelena drove north in the car she and the Man had purchased for just that purpose. Jelena was so excited she could hardly sit still. Finally it was happening. After all the planning, all the waiting, it was about to happen at last. A smile played on her small, delicate face; a persistent bubble of happiness kept demanding her attention and begging to take over her body. But the Man’s instructions had been extremely clear, as always.

‘We won’t count our chickens before they’re hatched, Doll,’ he had whispered, cupping her face in his strong hands. ‘No celebrations – nothing – until it’s all gone without a hitch. Remember that, Doll. Don’t let anything go wrong. Not when we’re so nearly there.’

She had looked him straight in the eyes and promised and sworn on all that was holy never ever to let him down.

‘Do you love me?’ he asked her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, urgently, longingly. ‘I love you so awfully much!’

His grip on her face tightened.

‘I asked whether you loved me, Doll. That’s a question best answered with just one word. Never use more words than you need. It could land us in a proper mess.’

She tried to nod between his rough hands, eager to please him.

‘I know,’ she answered, ‘I know. But since it’s only us here . . . I so much wanted to tell you how
much
I love you, not just that I do.’

He gripped her even harder; it hurt now. Slowly, he raised her up to his chest, up to his face. She had to stand on tiptoe or she’d be dangling in mid-air.

‘It’s nice that you want to say it, Doll,’ he whispered. ‘But you know we’ve talked about this before. The important thing isn’t what you say, it’s what you
do.
If I don’t know how much you love me, if you have to tell me, then our love’s worth nothing. Am I right?’

Jelena tried to nod, but it was impossible with him holding her head in such a tight grip. Tears came into her eyes, and she hoped desperately they wouldn’t overflow. Then the evening would be ruined. And it would mean pain for her. A lot of pain.

‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

His grip relaxed very slightly, so she could nod.

‘Say it,’ he demanded, his voice its normal volume.

‘I understand,’ Jelena said swiftly. ‘I understand.’

To her horror, his grip tightened again.

‘That’s good, Doll,’ he said, lowering his voice again. ‘Because if you don’t understand, if I can’t rely on you, then I’ve no use for you. You understand that, as well?’

Jelena understood. She understood very well indeed.

‘So we’ll say no more about it,’ he said calmly, releasing her face enough for the soles of her feet to touch the ground again.

Her breathing eased. The muscles in her neck were taut.

‘And you’re my doll, aren’t you?’ he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, deeply relieved that he had forgiven her for her mistake.

‘That’s nice, Doll,’ he said. ‘Very nice.’

And he had propelled her gently but firmly towards the bedroom.

Jelena hugged the steering wheel hard as she remembered their union in bed, both of them filled with a great and overwhelming joy that they had taken the first steps. The man was right, of course. She mustn’t feel pleased yet, risk not concentrating properly. But when they had finished . . . Jelena felt a shiver of anticipation. It would be fantastic. It just had to be.

The car purred obligingly along the road. Even though Jelena hadn’t even passed her test. She met hardly any other cars. She looked neither ahead nor behind. She felt very sure of the role she had to play now. When it came down to it, this stage was childishly simple. She just had to do exactly what they had arranged. Or the Man had arranged. Since he knew best, Jelena left all the planning to him.

She knew for sure that it would be the end of her if she messed up. She swallowed and concentrated on driving.

Dump the Foetus, she thought. Nothing else matters for now.

Just got to wait for the right moment.

F
redrika Bergman ended her working day by making a list. She was exhausted. She’d had no idea the day might develop along the lines it had when she elected to drink too much wine and get too little sleep the night before.

Fredrika glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty. She hadn’t had lunch until four. She would soon be hungry again.

Her mobile telephone buzzed. One new message. Fredrika was very surprised to see it was from Spencer. He hardly ever texted her.

‘Hello again and thanks so much for the wonderful time last night. Hope to see you at the weekend too. S.’

Fredrika felt warm inside. There was somebody for everybody. And she had Spencer Lagergren. Sometimes, anyway.

Then the thoughts she had been having the previous night resurfaced. What was the relationship with Spencer really costing her? One of her girlfriends once pointed out that Spencer made her feel comfortable, which meant she never met anyone she could start a serious relationship with. Fredrika protested and said that wasn’t the case at all. Spencer was a comfort blanket she could reach for whenever the longing to be close to someone got the better of her. If she didn’t have him, she wouldn’t have been
less
lonely; she’d have been
desperately
lonely.

Fredrika went back to her list, well aware that the thoughts would be back all too soon.

Why was there no other witness to corroborate Ingrid Strand’s version of events? Why hadn’t anybody else seen the girl being carried around on the platform by a tall man?