Unwanted (18 page)

Alex nodded gently to himself as he stood in his hall, waiting for time to start moving again.

‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I can on how we’re going to proceed,’ he said at last.

‘Fine,’ said Hugo Paulsson.

Then he added slowly:

‘I don’t know what it means, but the girl’s clothes haven’t been found. And her head’s been shaved.’

Fredrika Bergman received the news that the case of the missing Lilian had become a murder investigation via her mobile phone. It was Alex who rang, and she could tell from his voice that he was in shock. She herself felt drained of all emotion. Alex asked her to go and see Teodora Sebastiansson again and then try to talk to as many people as possible on the list of names and contacts they had got from Sara’s parents. They would have to try to work out why the child had turned up in Umeå, of all places.

Only once Fredrika had ended the call and looked out to see that summer had yet another day of rain ahead did she start to cry. She felt profoundly grateful that she was alone in her office, behind a closed door.

How on earth could the girl suddenly be dead?

Of all the questions raging in her head, one was more insistent than the rest.

What the hell am I doing here?
she thought.
How did I end up working in a place like this on a job like this?

Fredrika was on the point of ringing Alex back there and then and saying:

‘You’re right, Alex. I’m not cut out for this. I’m too weak, too emotional. I’ve never seen a dead person in my life and I hate stories with unhappy endings. And it doesn’t get any unhappier than this one. I give up. I’ve no business being here.’

Fredrika ran her fingers gently over the scar on her right arm. Time had faded the operation scar to just a couple of white lines, but they were still fully visible to any eye. For Fredrika, they were a daily reminder not only of The Accident, but also of the life that never was. The life she never had.

Fredrika wiped the corner of her eye and blew her nose. If she carried on thinking like this in her present state, she definitely wouldn’t be able to work properly. She was tired, worn out. It was only a few weeks until her holiday. She gave a stubborn shake of the head. Not now, she told herself, not now. Right now it would do the investigation more harm than good if she got up and left. But later, when the case was over . . .

Then I’ll leave . . .

Fredrika blew her nose again. Crumpled the tissue into a ball in her hand. Threw it at the bin. Missed but left it lying on the floor.

Why was the picture refusing to come into focus?

Thoughts were flying through Fredrika’s brain at lightning speed as she sat there at her desk, though it was not yet eight o’clock. She was the first to admit that she had not worked on many cases, but she did have a solid amount of analytical experience behind her. Considering the point they had now reached in the case of Lilian’s disappearance, it ought not to be that hard for Fredrika to complete the jigsaw puzzle in front of her. But there was something missing. She could feel it in her whole body, but couldn’t put it into words. Had they missed something? Was it something they should have seen or thought of earlier?

But then, Fredrika argued to herself, they still hadn’t found a motive for the abduction itself. If it was Gabriel Sebastiansson who had taken Lilian, what was his motive? There was no tedious custody battle going on; there were no reports of his having previously harmed the girl.

Fredrika’s encounter with Gabriel’s mother had left her in no doubt that he really had physically assaulted Sara. There was something extremely unpleasant about the whole family. Fredrika went to the computer to put together a list of further questions for Mrs Sebastiansson. The mere recollection of that lady’s bony finger pointing to where she was to park the car made her feel tense. No, there was definitely something sick about that family. The only question was: why had someone like Sara chosen to marry into it? After all, unlike her mother-in-law she seemed a straightforward, unpretentious, uncomplicated person. It was certainly going to be interesting to see what Gabriel was like, when the time came.

Then her mobile rang, forcing her to break off from the list she had barely started to compile. It was a man’s voice on the line.

‘Am I speaking to Fredrika Bergman?’

‘Yes, you are. And who am I speaking to?’ said Fredrika.

‘I’m Martin Ek, from SatCom. We spoke briefly the other evening, when you rang to ask about Gabriel Sebastiansson,’ the man replied.

SatCom, the company in which Gabriel had been working his way up over the past ten years, and was now one of the top executives.

Fredrika was immediately alert.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Well,’ Martin Ek began, sounding relieved that she remembered him. ‘You asked me to ring if Gabriel got in touch, so I kept your card.’

‘Ah, right,’ said Fredrika with a little gasp. ‘And he’s been in touch now?’

Martin Ek initially said nothing. Fredrika sensed he was on the verge of hanging up.

‘We haven’t heard from him.’

Fredrika’s shoulders slumped a fraction.

‘But I think I may have found something you’d be interested in seeing,’ he gabbled.

‘Okay,’ said Fredrika guardedly, pulling paper and pencil towards her. ‘What have you found, exactly?’

Another pause.

‘I’d really rather you came over and saw for yourself,’ he said.

Fredrika hesitated. She had neither the time nor the inclination to go over there. And anyway, it was really Peder who ought to be dealing with this contact, since he was the one following up Gabriel Sebastiansson’s circle of acquaintances.

‘You won’t even give me an idea of what this is about?’ she asked. ‘We’ve got a huge amount on at the moment.’

Martin Ek was breathing heavily at the other end of the line.

‘It’s something I found on his computer,’ he said finally.

He took a few more deep breaths before he went on.

‘Photos. Disgusting photos. I’ve never seen anything so bloody sick. I’d really, really appreciate it if you could come round. Straight away, if possible.’

Fredrika felt her throat constrict.

‘I’ll ask my colleague to get back to you right away. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

Fredrika was about to ring off when Martin Ek added:

‘But please come quickly.’

T
he desert.

Thirst.

Pain. A whole head full of pain.

Peder Rydh was hung over and barely awake when Alex rang to tell him that a little girl who in all probability was Lilian Sebastiansson had been found dead in Umeå. Alex also told him to get round to Sara’s and make sure she, or one of Lilian’s other close relations, caught the ten o’clock flight to Umeå. Alex would be on that plane himself, and would meet whoever was going at the airport. He also instructed Peder to pull out all the stops to work out how Umeå fitted into the picture.

Peder’s first reaction was one of near panic.

How the hell could the child be dead?

She had been missing fewer than forty-eight hours, and since getting the information from the woman sitting beside Sara and Lilian on the train, they’d been looking for the girl’s father, suspecting him of involvement in her disappearance. Had Gabriel Sebastiansson gone off his head? Had he murdered his own daughter and dumped her outside a
hospital
?

Then came his second reaction:
Where the fuck was he?

Peder fought desperately against the hangover, which was completely paralysing his powers of thought. Several long seconds passed before it dawned on him that he had fallen asleep at Pia Nordh’s. Heck, this was going to be tricky to explain to Ylva.

The phone had woken Pia, and she lay on her side, watching him. She was naked and her expression was quizzical. She realized from the short call that something very serious had happened.

‘They’ve found her,’ Peder said curtly, getting up from the bed far too fast.

The floor rocked beneath his feet, his head throbbed and his eyes ached. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands. He’d got to think, pull himself together. He ran his fingers through his hair and reached for his mobile again. He had a missed call from Jimmy and eleven from Ylva, who had admittedly been told to expect him home late, but would hardly have expected him not to come home at all. When had he rung her, exactly? His memories of the previous evening were one big whirl, impossible to separate out. Had he rung at all, when it came to it? The shadow of a recollection flitted by. Peder, half undressed in Pia’s bathroom. One hand on the washbasin for support, keeping himself upright, the other hand holding his mobile, sending a text.

‘Don’t wait up. Back later. Speak soon.’

Peder wanted to crawl out of his own skin. This wasn’t good. Or rather . . . it didn’t get any worse than this. If this wasn’t rock bottom, then he didn’t want to be part of it all any longer.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said gruffly, and stood up again.

His legs carried him all the way from the bedroom, out into the hall, into the bathroom. How much had he drunk? How many beers had it added up to?

He was just getting out of the shower when he heard his mobile ring again. He raced out of the bathroom, almost skidding on the wet floor tiles. Pia met him in the hall, his mobile in her hand.

It was Fredrika.

‘There was a call from the place where Gabriel Sebastiansson works,’ she said tersely. ‘They want one of us round there at once, to see something they found on Gabriel’s computer. Some horrible photos.’

Peder retreated into the bathroom so as not to drip all over Pia’s hall floor, but had to come back out again because there was no signal in there. He tried to towel himself one-handed with the towel while he was still on the phone.

‘Right,’ he began, ‘Alex has asked me to make sure Sara Sebastiansson knows what’s happened first. Then I can deal with the Gabriel thing.’

He could hear Fredrika was about to say something, so he went on quickly:

‘What sort of photos, anyway? We can’t just go checking people’s computers without getting the examining magistrate to grant a search warrant.’

Fredrika informed Peder with her usual cheek –
always that cheek
– that she was quite well aware the police couldn’t go snooping in people’s computers whenever they felt like it, but that this could be viewed as a tip-off in a very important investigation, and there was no law forbidding the police from going to look at something somebody else had discovered and . . .

‘Okay, okay,’ Peder interrupted her wearily. ‘Give me their number and I’ll ring them now and arrange something.’

‘Good,’ said Fredrika, sounding a bit washed out herself.

‘They didn’t say anything about what was in these pictures?’ Peder asked.

‘No,’ said Fredrika, ‘they just said they were disgusting.’

‘What are you going to do now, by the way?’ Peder enquired curiously.

‘Alex asked me to go and see Mrs Sebastiansson again,’ Fredrika said. ‘And there are a few other things I need to get done . . .’

‘Wasn’t I supposed to be handling the interviews with Gabriel’s family and friends from now on?’ Peder said irritably.

‘Clearly not this one,’ came Fredrika’s crisp retort.

Peder ended the call with a scowl and went back into the bathroom.

Pia appeared at the doorway. She was still stark naked. Peder looked at her in the bathroom mirror. Was she really that attractive when it came to it? He thought her tits looked a bit on the droopy side. Or was his hangover clouding his judgment? Well it was all the same to him, he was on his way out of the flat anyway.

For some reason he felt reluctant to turn round and meet her eye.

‘So where do we go from here?’ said Pia, folding her arms.

‘Have you got any Panadol?’ asked Peder wearily, and started brushing his teeth. With Pia’s toothbrush.

Without a word, Pia opened a bathroom cabinet and got a strip of tablets out of a box. Peder took the lot from her; he’d be needing the rest later in the day.

‘You might at least say something.’

Peder hurled the toothbrush impatiently into the basin.

‘Don’t you understand how I’m feeling right now?’ he thundered, afraid his head would explode the moment he raised his voice. ‘The kid’s been found dead, murdered! Don’t you understand that I can’t think about anything else at the moment?’

Pia stared at him.

‘Just go, Peder,’ she said.

She left the bathroom without waiting for a reply.

Peder sat down on the floor and took several deep breaths.

He had let his wife down.

He had let his employer down by being in such a state.

He had very likely let little Lilian down as well.

And now Pia Nordh wanted to make out he had let her down, too. What the hell did the woman want of him?

Peder straightened up. He’d got to focus. He’d got to get up and get out. How he would get to Sara Sebastiansson’s flat would be a question for later. He most probably wouldn’t be able to drive.