for why no one intervened. And the fact that “times were different” back then,’ Patrik added without concealing the sarcasm in his voice.
‘One day when Christian was three years old, another tenant reported to the welfare office that he’d noticed a stench coming from Anita’s flat. The authorities obtained a master key, and when they went in they discovered Christian alone with his dead mother. Presumably she’d been dead about a week, and Christian had survived by eating whatever he could find in the kitchen, and drinking water from the tap. But the food had apparently run out after a few days, because when the police and medics arrived, the boy was starving and weak. They found him huddled close to his mother’s body, only semi-conscious.’
‘Good Lord,’ said Annika, and her eyes filled with tears. Gosta was also blinking away tears, and Martin’s face had turned green. He looked like he was fighting hard not to be sick.
‘Unfortunately, Christian’s troubles didn’t end there. He was placed very quickly with a foster family, a couple by the name of Lissander. Paula and I paid them a visit today.’
‘Christian couldn’t have had an easy childhood with them,’ said Paula quietly. ‘To be honest, I got the impression that something wasn’t quite right with Mrs Lissander.’
Gosta felt something flash through his mind. Lissander. Where had he heard that name before? He somehow associated it with Ernst Lundgren, their former colleague who had been fired from the police force. Gosta tried to think what the connection could be. He considered telling everyone that the name sounded familiar, but then decided to wait until the explanation came to him on its own.
Patrik went on: ‘The Lissanders say that they’ve had no contact with Christian since he turned eighteen. That was when he apparently broke off the relationship with them and left.’
‘Do you think they’re telling the truth?’ asked Annika.
Patrik looked at Paula, who nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Unless they’re very good liars.’
‘And they didn’t know of any woman who might bear some sort of grudge against Christian?’ Gosta asked.
‘They said they didn’t. But on that point I’m not sure they were being completely truthful.’
‘Did he have any brothers or sisters?’
‘They didn’t mention any, but maybe you could find out, Annika. That ought to be easy enough to research. I’ll give you all the names and information you need. Could you work on it right away?’
‘I can do it now, if you like,’ said Annika. ‘It won’t take long.’
‘Okay, great. There’s a yellow Post-it note with everything you need on the folder that’s lying on my desk.’
‘I’ll be back,’ said Annika, getting to her feet.
‘What about having a chat with Kenneth? Now that Christian is dead, he might decide to start talking,’ said Martin.
‘Good idea. So that means we have the following items on our to-do list: talk with Kenneth, and conduct a thorough search of Christian’s house. We also need to find out all the details of Christian’s life before he came to Fjallbacka. Gosta and Martin, I’d like you to talk with Kenneth, okay?’ They both nodded, and Patrik then turned to Paula. ‘You and I will drive over to Christian’s house. If we find anything of interest, we’ll call in the tech team.’
‘That sounds good,’ she said.
‘Mellberg, you’ll stay here at the station to answer any questions from the media,’ Patrik went on. ‘And Annika will keep digging into Christian’s past. At the moment we have a few facts to go on, at least.’
‘More than you thought,’ said Annika, appearing in the doorway.
‘Did you find out anything?’ asked Patrik.
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, giving her colleagues an excited look. ‘The Lissanders had a daughter two years after they took in Christian as a foster child. So he has a sister. Alice Lissander.’
‘Louise?’ Erik called, standing in the front hall. Could he be so lucky that she wasn’t at home? In that case, he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse to get her to leave for a while. Because he needed to pack his suitcase. He felt as if he had a fever, as if his whole body was screaming at him to get out of town.
He’d taken care of all the practical matters. He’d made a reservation under his own name for a plane departing tomorrow. He hadn’t bothered to set up a false identity. That would take far too much time, and to be honest, he really had no idea how to go about it. But there was no reason to believe that anyone would try to stop him from leaving. And after he reached his destination, it would be too late.
Erik hesitated outside the upstairs rooms belonging to his daughters. He wished he could go in and have a look around, as his way of saying goodbye. At the same time, he couldn’t get himself to do it. It was easier just to focus only on what he needed to get done.
He put the big suitcase on top of the bed. It was always stored downstairs in the basement, so by the time Louise noticed it was missing, he would be far away. He planned to leave tonight. What he’d learned from talking to Kenneth had shaken him badly, and he didn’t want to stay here even a minute longer. He’d write a note to Louise saying that he had to leave on an urgent business trip. Then he’d drive to Landvetter airport in Goteborg and get a room at a nearby hotel. Tomorrow afternoon he’d be sitting in a plane, heading for southern climes. Unreachable.
Erik tossed one item of clothing after another into the suitcase. He couldn’t take much. If the chest of drawers and wardrobe were noticeably empty when Louise came home, she’d know what he was up to. But he took as much as he could. Later he could buy new clothes. Money was not going to be a problem.
While he packed, he was on the alert for Louise’s arrival, not wanting her to surprise him. If she came home now, he’d have to shove the suitcase under the bed and pretend to be packing the small carry-on bag that he kept in the bedroom. That was the one he always took on business trips.
For a moment he paused. The memory that had surfaced now refused to sink back into oblivion. He couldn’t say that it particularly upset him. Everybody made mistakes; that was only human. But he was fascinated by the fact that someone could be driven by such a single-minded purpose. After all, it had happened so long ago.
Then he shook himself. It would do no good to brood over things. The day after tomorrow he would be safe.
The ducks came rushing towards him. By now they were old friends. He always stopped here, bringing a sack of stale bread. Now they flocked around his feet, eager for what he had to offer.
Ragnar thought about the conversation with the two police officers, and about Christian. He should have done more. He should have known, even back then. All his life he had been little more than a bystander, weak and silent, watching without intervening. Her bystander. That’s how it had been between them from the very beginning. Neither of them had been able to break the pattern they’d created.
Irene had always been preoccupied with her own beauty. She had loved the good things in life: parties, drinks, and men who admired her. He knew all about them. Just because he’d hidden behind his inadequacies didn’t mean that he was unaware of the affairs she’d had with other men.
And that poor boy had never had a chance. Christian could never measure up, never give her what she wanted. The boy had probably thought that Irene loved Alice, but he was wrong. Irene was incapable of loving anyone. She had merely seen her own reflection in her daughter’s beauty. Ragnar wished that he had spoken to the boy before they chased him away like a dog. He wasn’t sure what really happened, or what was the truth. He wasn’t like Irene, who had accused and condemned him all in one breath.
Doubt had been gnawing at Ragnar, and it still was. But over the years the memories had faded. They had gone on living their lives. He stayed in the background while Irene continued to believe that she was still beautiful. No one had dared tell her that her looks were gone, so she kept on behaving as if she could again be the life of the party at any moment. The woman who was both beautiful and desirable.
But it had to end. At that moment Ragnar understood why the police had come, and he realized that he’d made a mistake. A huge, fateful mistake. And now it was time to put things right.
Ragnar took Patrik’s business card out of his pocket. Then he got out his mobile and punched in the number on the card.
