concentrated effort to regain control of himself. Stay focused, he thought. Right now everything depended on staying focused. He peeked inside the kitchen. A radio was on, playing music at a low volume; there were dirty dishes in the sink and crumbs on the table. He made his way into the living room, where two large sofas faced each other. He saw a fireplace, a TV, rugs, books and newspapers, a bowl of fruit and a pair of ceramic candlesticks with candles that had burned down. Again that feeling welled up inside him; he pushed it back.
As he climbed the stairs, he heard the shower running. She was singing. He crept over to the door, which had been left half open. It was a big bathroom with two sinks, side by side, a toilet on the opposite wall of the room, a bathtub with a jacuzzi, and a shower booth with frosted glass. He could see the woman’s body in silhouette through the glass. Her loud, clear voice bounced off the walls.
The feeling came over him again. His eyes burned. Suddenly he was furious at her. There she stood, naked and beautiful, singing without a care in the world. She had no idea what was going on around her. What was happening inside of him. Fucking idiot. Rage shot up into his forehead, clouding his vision. He would show her. He gripped the piano wire between his fingers. Closed his eyes for a second to concentrate before he attacked.
Suddenly he was interrupted by a sound behind him. A few cries that threatened to become sobs. The woman didn’t seem to notice. She kept on singing while the shower water poured out.
Abruptly he turned around, slipped out of the bathroom and into the room where the sound was coming from. In the darkness, with the blinds pulled down, stood a cot, and in it lay the baby, now crying louder.
In a flash he picked up the little girl, wrapped in her blanket, and dashed down the stairs to the ground floor and out into the hall.
He could still hear the woman singing as he closed the front door behind him.
75
Unsuspecting, Johan picked up the phone. All he could hear at first was a hysterical person crying and screaming as she rattled off a string of words that didn’t make any sense. It took several seconds before he realized it was Emma and that she was shouting something about Elin. When Johan heard the name Elin coupled several times with the word ‘gone’, his blood turned ice cold.
‘Calm down. Tell me what happened?’
‘I… I was in the shower,’ she sobbed. ‘I had put Elin in her cot, and when I came out, she was gone, Johan. Gone.’
‘But have you looked everywhere? Maybe she somehow managed to crawl out.’
‘No!’ she shrieked. ‘No-o-o! She can’t crawl out on her own! Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s gone! Someone must have come in and taken her!’
She burst into such heart-rending sobs that Johan felt his nerves shatter. He could feel himself starting to cry. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.
Pia was sitting next to him and had heard every word that Emma said.
She cast a glance at the photo on the wall. The picture of Johan sitting in his car outside Erik Mattson’s flat was still hanging there.
Suddenly the threat felt very real.
76
When the police arrived at Emma’s house in Roma, she was collapsed in the nursery upstairs. She was totally unresponsive, and the officers had to call an ambulance to take her to Wisby Hospital.
The police cordoned off the house and street. Roadblocks were put up at all the routes to and from Roma, and also at the entrances to Visby and down by the harbour. The next ferry to Nynashamn was due to depart at four o’clock, and all the vehicles waiting at the dock were searched. At the airport every passenger was checked. It would be impossible for the kidnapper to leave Gotland with the child, at least by the usual means of transport.
At first Knutas couldn’t believe it when he heard that Johan Berg’s daughter had been kidnapped. But he realized immediately that the reporter must have been conducting his own investigation and provoked the perpetrator in some way. He evidently hadn’t learned from previous experience to stay out of police business. Last time it had nearly cost Johan his life; now it was his little daughter’s life that hung in the balance. Knutas truly felt for Johan, and he rang him as soon as he found out what had happened. No answer, of course. Knutas then discovered that Johan was at the hospital with Emma, and he contacted him there. The reporter’s voice was barely audible when he at last picked up the phone.
‘I feel terrible about this,’ said Knutas. ‘I want you to know that we’re doing everything we can.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I need to know what sort of contact you’ve had with the killer,’ said Knutas. ‘Have you talked to him?’
‘No. But something else happened.’
‘What?’
Johan told the superintendent about the photo that was left on the wall of the Regional News office.
‘Do you know who he is?’
‘I think it’s Erik Mattson. The man who’s an art valuer at Bukowski’s.’
‘No, it’s not,’ said Knutas. He didn’t want to mention that Mattson was dead, because he thought that would alarm Johan further. The situation was bad enough as it was. ‘He’s not the one. It’s his son. David Mattson. It’s possible that he might try to contact you. We don’t know what he wants, but if you hear from him, you need to ring me immediately. Do you understand, Johan? It’s tremendously important that you ring my direct line at once. Then you and I will discuss how to handle the situation. OK?’
‘OK,’ said Johan tonelessly. ‘Now I’d better get back to Emma.’
77
The whole night passed without a word from David Mattson. The police maintained their tight control on all exits from Gotland. For safety’s sake, Muramaris was kept under surveillance, but nobody really thought he would be stupid enough to go back there. They were dealing with a dangerous man who had already killed at least twice. It was still not clear whether David Mattson had also murdered his father. A postmortem needed to be performed before the ME could answer that question.
Knutas sat in his office at police headquarters in a state of anguish. A kidnapped child was the worst scenario he could imagine. The most frustrating part was that he felt so helpless. As long as the kidnapper refused to make contact and remained holed up somewhere, brooding, it was virtually impossible to track him down. A team of police officers was at the house in Roma, and the phone was being tapped. Emma Winarve was still in hospital. They had tried to interview her, but it was proving nearly impossible to get anything out of her. She was suffering from a complete nervous breakdown.
Where was the kidnapper? In the summertime he might pitch a tent or sleep in a campervan, or even in his car if need be. But at this time of year? It was most likely that he’d broken into a summerhouse somewhere — there were plenty on Gotland. But where should the police start looking? Summerhouses in remote locations were everywhere on the island, and on Faro. But if he decided to let the child live, he would need food and nappies. What was his intention when he kidnapped Elin?
Sooner or later David Mattson would make contact.
