‘It does,’ she replied. ‘I can’t say that I think she did the right thing by shutting us out, me and Anna, the way she did. But…’ She searched for the right words. ‘But I can understand that she didn’t dare let anybody in after that. It must have been awful for her, first being abandoned by the child’s father – because that’s what she thought had happened – and then being forced to give up the baby for adoption. She was only sixteen! I can’t even begin to imagine how painful it must have been for her. And right after losing her father, too – and in a practical sense her mother as well, from what I gather. No, I can’t blame her. No matter how much I’d like to, I just can’t.’
‘If only she had known that Hans didn’t abandon her.’ Patrik shook his head.
‘Yes, that’s almost the worst part. He never left Fjallbacka. And he never left her. Instead, somebody killed him.’ Erica’s voice broke. ‘But why? Why was he murdered?’
‘Do you want me to ring Martin and find out if they’ve been able to discover anything more?’ asked Patrik. It wasn’t just for Erica’s sake that he wanted to phone the station. The case fascinated him, even more so now that they had discovered the Norwegian was the father of Erica’s half-brother.
‘Could you do that?’ said Erica eagerly.
‘Sure, I’ll phone the station right now.’ Patrik got up. Fifteen minutes later he was back in Erica’s workroom, and she saw at once that he had news.
‘They’ve found a possible motive for the murder of Hans Olavsen,’ he told her.
Erica could hardly stay in her seat. ‘What is it?’ she said.
Patrik hesitated for a moment before telling her: ‘Hans Olavsen was not a resistance fighter. He was the son of a high-ranking SS officer, and he himself worked for the Germans during the occupation of Norway.’
Silence descended over the room. Erica stared at him, for once utterly speechless. Patrik went on:
‘Kjell Ringholm called in at the station earlier with a suicide letter from his father, which came in this morning’s post. Frans confessed that he murdered Britta. He also wrote that he was to blame for the deaths of Erik and Hans. They’re not sure whether to interpret that as an admission that he was the one who killed them.’
‘Then why did he say that he was to blame? What could that mean?’ said Erica. ‘And the fact that Hans was not in the resistance after all – I wonder if my mother knew that? How…?’ She shook her head.
‘What’s your opinion, after reading her diaries? Did she know?’ asked Patrik, sitting down again.
Erica thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t think Mamma knew. Absolutely not.’
‘The question is whether Frans found out about it,’ said Patrik, thinking aloud
‘Did Martin say anything about how they were going to proceed now?’
‘No, he just said that Paula had found a possible lead, and that they were on their way to check it out, and he would let me know as soon as they found out more. He sounded really elated,’ Patrik added, feeling a slight pang at being left out of the action.
‘I can tell what you’re thinking right now,’ said Erica, amused.
‘Well, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to be over at the station, working the case,’ Patrik told her. ‘But I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I think you know that.’
‘I know,’ said Erica. ‘And I understand how you feel. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be part of the investigation.’
As if to confirm what they had just been talking about, they heard a loud cry coming from Maja’s room. Patrik got up.
‘Aha – that’s the sound of my factory whistle.’
‘Back to the salt mines you go,’ laughed Erica. ‘But first bring that little slave-driver in here so I can give her a kiss.’
‘Be right back,’ said Patrik. As he was on his way out the door, he heard Erica suddenly gasp.
‘I know who my brother is!’ she said. She laughed as the tears ran down her face, repeating: ‘Patrik, I know who my brother is!’
While they were in the car, Martin got a call confirming that the search warrant had been issued. They’d been so confident the prosecutor would grant the request that they’d set off without waiting for an answer. Neither of them spoke. Both were lost in thought, trying to put together all the loose ends and work out the pattern that was starting to emerge.
There was no answer when they knocked on the door.
‘The place seems empty,’ said Paula.
‘How shall we get in?’ asked Martin, studying the solid door, which looked as though it would be difficult to force open.
Paula laughed and reached up to run her hand over one of the beams above the front door.
‘With a key,’ she said, holding up what she had found.
‘What would I do without you?’ said Martin, meaning every word.
‘Probably break your shoulder while attempting to get inside,’ she said, unlocking the door.
They went in. It was eerily quiet, stuffy and hot, and they hung up their jackets in the hall.
‘Shall we split up?’ asked Paula.
‘Sure, I’ll take the ground floor, you can take upstairs.’
‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Paula suddenly sounded uncertain. She was positive they were on the right track, but now that they were so close, she wasn’t convinced they would find anything to prove their theory.
‘I’m not really sure.’ Martin looked equally doubtful. ‘Let’s just take a careful look around, and see what we can find.’
‘Okay.’ Paula nodded and headed upstairs.
An hour later she came back down. ‘Nothing so far. Should I keep looking upstairs, or should we swap for a while? Have you found anything interesting?’
‘No, not yet.’ Martin shook his head. ‘It’s probably a good idea if we change places. But…’ He looked pensive and then pointed to a door in the hall. ‘We could check the basement first. Neither of us has been down there yet.’
‘Good idea,’ said Paula, opening the basement door. It was pitch black on the stairs, but she found the light switch in the hall, just outside the door, and turned it on. She went first, with Martin following, and a few seconds later she stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.
‘What a creepy place,’ said Martin when he joined her. He let his eyes roam over the walls, and what he saw made him gape.
‘Shh…’ said Paula, putting her finger to her lips. ‘Did you hear something?’
‘No,’ said Martin, listening. ‘No, I didn’t hear a thing.’
‘I thought I heard a car door slam. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s probably your imagination.’ Then he fell silent as they suddenly heard footsteps overhead.
‘Imagination, huh? I think we’d better go back upstairs,’ said Paula, putting her foot on the first step. At that moment the basement door closed with a bang, and they heard a key turn in the lock.
‘What the -?’ Paula was on her way up the stairs when the light went out. They were left in pitch darkness.
‘Let us out of here!’ yelled Paula, and Martin could hear her pounding on the door. ‘Do you hear me? It’s the police! Open this door and let us out!’
But when she paused to catch her breath, they clearly heard a car door slam and an engine start up.
‘Shit!’ said Paula as she trudged back down the stairs.
‘We need to phone for help,’ said Martin, reaching for his mobile just as he remembered that it was in his jacket pocket. ‘We’ll have to use your mobile because I left mine in my jacket, which is hanging in the hall,’ said Martin.
The only reply from Paula was silence, which made him nervous.
‘Don’t tell me…’
‘Yes,’ said Paula miserably. ‘I left my mobile in my jacket pocket too.’
‘Damn it!’ Martin climbed the stairs and tried to ram the door open. The only result was a sore shoulder. Discouraged, he went back down to join Paula.
