The Dead Of Summer

Miraculously, she heard someone turning the lock outside. When the door opened, the light was so blinding she had to squint.

THE HOUSE IN Kyllaj was empty. They searched the garden and outbuildings as well but, obviously, the Norrstroms had taken off. Knutas got out his mobile to sound the alarm, but before he could do that, it rang.

‘Hi, it’s Thomas,’ said Wittberg, his voice agitated. ‘We’ve just found Karin. She was tied up and locked in a cargo space on board the M/S Gotska Sandon. It was Stefan Norrstrom who knocked her out and threw her in there.’

‘Bloody hell! How is she?’ shouted Knutas.

‘She’s exhausted, but otherwise there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her. Just very dehydrated. We’re in the car on our way to the hospital. What’s going on out there?’

‘We’re at the house in Kyllaj right now, but the place is deserted. I assume they’re going to try to leave the island, so I need to notify headquarters. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘OK, I’ll phone you after I drop Karin off.’

Knutas issued orders quickly to his colleagues. The airport had to be alerted, as well as the ferry system. Suddenly he noticed that Kihlgard had disappeared, but then he saw him coming out of the kitchen with a cordless phone in his hand.

‘I think we can forget about the airport. I checked the last number that was called, and it’s the number for a boat company called Destination Gotland. The next boat leaves at eight o’clock, which means in twenty minutes.’

FORTUNATELY, THE FERRY to the mainland hadn’t yet left the dock, but all 1,500 passengers were already on board. Not wanting to cause a panic, the crew had informed everyone that the delay was due to a minor technical problem that would soon be fixed. Only plainclothes officers boarded the ship. The ferry had two levels in addition to the car deck, and the police spread out to make their search.

Knutas and Kihlgard went to the information counter to get help checking the passenger cabins. The crew member behind the counter gave them four key cards that would serve as master keys.

Just at that moment, Knutas noticed out of the corner of his eye two people rushing towards him. He turned round and was surprised to see Wittberg and Jacobsson.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked Karin. ‘Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?’

Jacobsson looked worn out, but there was nothing wrong with her tongue.

‘Did you really think I was going to miss out on all the fun? I was just a little dehydrated. I poured about half a gallon of water down my throat on the way over here, plus an equal amount of juice. That should be sufficient.’

Wittberg threw out his arms. ‘She refused to go to hospital. What are we doing now?’

‘OK, well, we’ve spread out to search the ship. We’re almost positive that they’re on board. The whole terminal has been blocked off, so there’s no chance of them escaping. Now we just have to find them. Martin and I were just about to start checking the cabins.’

They each took a key card and split up. Jacobsson started with the cabins on the port side, one level up. She didn’t bother to knock, but just yanked open the doors.

‘Police!’ she shouted each time, her gun drawn.

The first cabin was empty; the second one was too. In the third, an elderly man was sound asleep. In the fourth cabin, some young guys were in the middle of playing cards and drinking beer. They stared in surprise at Jacobsson standing in the doorway. Then came a long series of cabins that all turned out to be empty.

Finally, she reached the end of the corridor. Only two cabins remained to be checked. By now she was out of breath, and her head was pounding. When she stuck the card in the door slot, the lock jammed. She tried several times without success.

Suddenly she heard a sound from inside the cabin. Someone was whimpering. It sounded like a half-stifled scream, as if someone were wearing a muzzle. Damn it all, she thought. She was alone on this level; her colleagues were on the deck below. She pulled out her mobile to ring Knutas. Shit, it wasn’t charged.

She stood there for several seconds, uncertain what to do. Should she run downstairs and get the others and maybe risk losing the Norrstroms, if they were the ones inside the cabin? They must have heard her shouting and trying to open the door.

She tried the key card again, shoving it into the slot. At last, it worked, and she pressed down the door handle.

When Karin looked into Vera Norrstrom’s panic-stricken, staring eyes, all the remembered images came back to her. Fragmentary, incoherent, but razor-sharp, they sliced into her consciousness. Assaulting her, ruthlessly, violently. As they always did. She stood in the narrow doorway, frozen to the spot. Breathing hard, with a fierce band of pressure on her forehead; her legs began to buckle and she could hardly stay on her feet. The images were familiar; she woke up to them every morning, and they were in her mind when she was about to fall asleep at night. Every day for twenty-five years she had struggled to make those memories disappear.

Vera Norrstrom lay on the narrow lower bunk. Her face was as white as chalk and contorted with pain. She was biting down on a towel, which prevented her from screaming aloud. Her legs were apart, with one foot hanging off the side of the bed. She was pressing that foot against a chair placed next to the bunk. A cotton sheet barely covered her. She was going to give birth at any moment.

Karin knew all about that. She had just turned fifteen.

The pain is wracking her body. She can hardly understand what’s happening. Both her mother and father have refused to be present at the birth. They’re waiting outside until it’s over. As if they’re pretending that she’s suffering from some serious illness. Something bad that requires an operation and has to be surgically removed, like a cancerous tumour.

A nurse dressed in green is standing next to her. Karin wants to take her hand, but she doesn’t dare. She thinks she’s going to be torn apart. Terrified. She’s only a child.

One last violent push. Her own wail is replaced by the newborn’s hesitant, tremulous voice. Hardly a scream, merely a cry. In the dimly lit room she feels the warm, alive body next to her bare skin. A piece of herself in another human being. A girl.

Karin secretly gives her the name Lydia. She closes her eyes, places her hand carefully on the baby’s back. Time stops, the world stops spinning, all activity comes to a halt. Just her and Lydia, nothing else. Just the two of them.

She doesn’t know how much time passes before the nurse dressed in green takes the baby away from her. She will never see her again. Forever miss her. Forever long for her.

Next to Vera sat her husband, Stefan, who had assaulted Karin a few hours earlier. His eyes were terrified and desperate. Karin swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together and control the dizziness.

Then she stepped inside the cabin and closed the door behind her.

THE SEARCH PROVED fruitless. After going over the ferry with a fine-tooth comb, the police officers returned to the aft salon, where they gathered to consider the situation. Jacobsson was the last to join the others. She paused in the doorway, explained that she wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home. No one even had time to react before she was gone.

The concern that Knutas felt was mixed with tenderness. She always had to be so tough and strong. Now she’d finally been forced to give in. He felt like going home himself and pulling the covers over his head. The disappointing results of the search irked him. He cursed himself for allowing the Norrstroms to get away.

He turned to his colleagues as he ran his hand through his hair and said wearily, ‘The Norrstroms’ car was apparently just found at the airport car park. They checked in for the last flight to Stockholm this evening. Our efforts here seem to have been in vain.’

Maybe the couple’s phone call to Destination Gotland was just a diversionary tactic. Maybe they’d been checking all the possible ways to flee when they realized that the police were on Stefan Norrstrom’s trail. It was a bitter feeling to have been so close to catching them; now the police would have to leave the boat empty-handed. After a two-hour delay, it would now depart for Nynashamn.

Somehow, the story had leaked out, and the usual band of journalists was waiting on the dock. They were hoping to get pictures of the arrested couple, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, the reporters showered the police with questions about the failed action. Knutas pushed his way through the crowd without even glancing at the journalists.