The Hidden Child

important thing is that he was not the one who murdered my mother. As for the rest… that’s just his grief talking.’

Martin and Paula got up. ‘Thank you for allowing us to speak with you. But there is one last thing that we need to ask,’ said Martin, turning to Herman. ‘To confirm what you’ve just said, we need to take a look at your arms. We know that Britta scratched the person who suffocated her.’

‘Is that really necessary? He says that…’ Margareta’s voice was getting louder, but Herman quietly pushed up the sleeves of his hospital gown and held out his arms for Martin, who studied them intently. No scratch marks.

‘There, you see?’ said Margareta, looking as if she would like to make good her threat to throw Martin and Paula out the door.

‘We’re finished now,’ said Martin. ‘Thank you for your time, Herman. Once again, we’re very sorry for your loss.’ Then he motioned to Margareta and Anna-Greta to show that he wanted to speak to them privately.

Out in the corridor, he explained the situation regarding the fingerprint on the button, and they willingly agreed to provide their prints so as to be ruled out of the investigation. Just as they were finishing up, Birgitta arrived, and she too complied so that the fingerprints of all three daughters could be sent off to the lab.

Paula and Martin sat in the car for a moment before setting off. ‘Who do you think he’s protecting?’ asked Paula as she put the key in the ignition.

‘I don’t know. But I get the same impression. That he knows who murdered Britta but wants to protect that person. And that he somehow feels responsible.’

‘If only he would tell us,’ said Paula, now turning the key.

‘Yes, I can’t for the life of me…’ Martin shook his head, annoyed, and drummed his fingertips on the dashboard.

‘But you do believe him?’ Paula already knew what the answer would be.

‘Yes, I believe him. And the fact that he doesn’t have any scratch marks proves that I’m right. But I can’t understand why he would want to protect his wife’s murderer. Or why he feels that he is personally to blame.’

‘Well, we may never find the answer to that,’ said Paula as she drove out of the car park. ‘But at least we have the daughters’ fingerprints. We need to send them off to the lab ASAP, then we can eliminate them and we can start trying to figure out who did leave that thumbprint.’

‘I suppose that’s all we can do at the moment,’ said Martin, sighing heavily and looking out the car window.

Neither of them noticed when they passed Erica just north of Torp.

Chapter 36

Fjallbacka 1945

It was no coincidence that Frans saw what happened. He had kept his eyes on Elsy the whole time, wanting to look at her until she disappeared from view over the crown of the hill. And so he saw the kiss. He felt as if his blood were boiling, yet an icy cold seemed to spread through his limbs. It was so painful that he thought he would fall down dead on the spot.

‘Did you see that?’ asked Erik, who had also caught sight of Hans and Elsy. ‘It looked like…’ He laughed, shaking his head. The sound of Erik’s laughter made a white light explode inside Frans’s head. He needed some way to release all the pain, so he threw himself at Erik, gripping his neck in a stranglehold.

‘Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, you fucking stupid…’ He gripped Erik’s neck tighter, making the boy gasp for air. It made him happy to see the terror in Erik’s eyes – as if that somehow diminished the size of the knot that was ever present in his stomach and seemed to have increased tenfold at the sight of the kiss.

‘What are you doing!’ Britta screamed, staring at the boys on the ground. Erik was on his back, with Frans on top of him. Without even thinking she rushed over and yanked at Frans’s shirt, but he flailed his arm at her so hard that she toppled backwards.

‘Stop it, Frans, stop it!’ she yelled, sliding away from him with tears running down her cheeks. Something in her tone brought him to his senses. He looked down at Erik, whose face had taken on an odd colour, and let go of his neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, rubbing his eyes. ‘I’m sorry… I…’

Erik sat up and stared at him, his hands feeling his bruised throat. ‘What was that all about? You just about strangled me! Are you out of your mind?’ Erik’s glasses were askew. He took them off and then put them on again properly.

Frans stared straight ahead, a blank look in his eyes, and didn’t reply.

‘He’s in love with Elsy. That’s why,’ said Britta bitterly as she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. ‘And he actually thought he had a chance with her. But you’re an idiot for thinking that, Frans! She has never so much as looked at you. And now she’s throwing herself into the arms of that Norwegian. While I…’ She burst into tears and started scrambling down the rocky hill.

Frans, expressionless, watched her go.

‘Damn it, Frans, you’re not… Is that true?’ Erik glared at him. ‘Are you in love with Elsy? I mean, if that’s the case, I can understand why you went berserk. But you can’t…’ Erik stopped and shook his head.

Frans didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His head was filled with the image of Hans leaning forward to kiss Elsy. And of Elsy kissing him back.

Chapter 37

Nowadays Erica always paid more attention when she saw a police car, and she thought she saw Martin in the one that passed her just before Torp, as she drove towards Uddevalla for the second time that day. She wondered where Martin had been.

There really wasn’t any rush with the enquiries she was making, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to write in peace until she had followed up on the new information she’d been given. And she was curious to know why Kjell Ringholm, a journalist for Bohuslaningen, was interested in the Norwegian resistance fighter.

Later, as she was waiting in the reception area at Bohuslaningen, she pondered possible reasons for his interest but finally decided to stop speculating until she had the opportunity to ask him in person. A few minutes later she was escorted to his office. He looked up with a quizzical expression on his face as she came in and shook hands.

‘Erica Falck? The author? Is that right?’ he said, motioning her towards a visitor’s chair.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, draping her jacket over the back of the chair and sitting down.

‘Unfortunately, I haven’t read any of your books, but I’ve heard that they’re very good,’ he said politely. ‘Are you here in connection with research for a new book? I’m not a crime reporter, so I’m not sure how I can help you. Unless I’m mistaken, you write true-crime books.’

‘Actually, this has nothing to do with my books,’ replied Erica. ‘The thing is, for various reasons I’ve started researching my mother’s past. And she happened to be good friends with your father.’

Kjell frowned. ‘When was that?’ he asked, leaning forward.

‘From what I understand, they were friends as children and teenagers. I’ve mostly been concentrating on the late war years, when they were about fifteen.’

Kjell nodded and waited for her to go on.

‘They were part of a group of four teenagers who seem to have been as thick as thieves. In addition to your