The Girl in the Woods

‘And you didn’t see her after that? She didn’t wake up during the night? Neither of you went to check on her? You didn’t hear anything?’

Gösta’s voice was so gentle, she could almost ignore the fact that his colleague had helped himself to another biscuit.

Peter cleared his throat.

‘No. She always sleeps through the night. I was the first one up this morning. I was going to drive the tractor over to the woods, so I just had a quick cup of coffee and a piece of toast. Then I left.’

There was a pleading tone to his voice. As if there might be some answer to be found in what he’d said. Eva reached out to put her hand on his. It felt as cold as her own.

‘And you didn’t see Linnea at that time? In the morning?’

Peter shook his head.

‘No, the door to her room was closed. I tiptoed past as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake her. I wanted Eva to be able to sleep a little longer.’

She squeezed his hand. That was Peter in a nutshell. Always so considerate. Always thinking of her and Nea.

‘What about you, Eva? Tell us about your morning.’

Gösta’s gentle voice made her feel like crying.

‘I woke up late, it was already half past nine. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late. The whole house was quiet, and the first thing I did was go to check on Nea. The door to her room was open, and her bed was unmade. She wasn’t there, so I just assumed …’

Eva couldn’t hold back a sob. Peter placed his other hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze.

‘I assumed she must have gone with Peter out to the woods. She loves doing that, and she often goes with him. So it wasn’t strange and I didn’t think for a second …’

Eva could no longer hold back the tears. She reached up to wipe them away.

‘I would have assumed the same thing,’ said Peter, and again squeezed his wife’s hand.

She knew he was right. And yet. If only she had …

‘Could she have gone to visit a friend?’ asked Gösta.

Peter shook his head.

‘No, she always stays here on the farm. She has never even tried to go beyond our property.’

‘There’s always a first time,’ said the fat officer. He’d been sitting so quietly as he ate one biscuit after another that Eva practically jumped when he spoke. ‘Maybe she ran into the woods.’

Gösta gave Bertil Mellberg a look that Eva couldn’t decipher.

‘We’ll organize a search party,’ he said.

‘Do you think that’s what happened? She got lost in the woods?’

The woods went on forever. The very thought of Nea lost in there made Eva feel sick with apprehension. They had never worried such a thing might happen. And Nea had never gone off on her own. But maybe they’d been naive. Naive and irresponsible. Allowing a four-year-old girl to run free on the farm when it was right next to a big woods. Nea was lost, and it was all their fault.

As if Gösta could read Eva’s mind, he said:

‘If she’s in the woods, we’ll find her. I’m going to make a few phone calls right now, and we’ll start the search in no time. We’ll have a search party organized within the hour, so we can make maximum use of the daylight.’

‘Will she make it through a night out there on her own?’ asked Peter in a toneless voice.

His face was deathly pale.

‘The nights are still warm,’ Gösta assured him. ‘She’s not going to freeze, but we’ll do everything we can to find her before it gets dark.’

‘What was she wearing?’ asked Mellberg, reaching for the last biscuit on the plate.

Gösta looked surprised.

‘That’s a good question. Do you know what clothes she had on when she disappeared? Even though you didn’t see her this morning, maybe you could check to see if any of her clothes are missing.’

Eva nodded and stood up to go to Nea’s room. At last, here was something concrete she could contribute.

But at the door to the bedroom she hesitated. She took several deep breaths before she could push it open. Everything looked exactly the same as always, which made it even more heartbreaking. The wallpaper with pink stars, with little pieces missing where Nea had picked at the paper. The teddy bears piled up at the end of the bed. The bedclothes decorated with pictures of Elsa from the film Frozen. The Olaf doll that always lay on the pillow. The hanger with … Eva stopped short. She knew exactly what Nea had on. To make sure she peeked inside the wardrobe and then looked around the room. No, she didn’t see it anywhere. She hurried back downstairs.

‘She’s wearing her Elsa dress.’

‘What does an Elsa dress look like?’ asked Gösta.

‘It’s a blue princess dress. With a picture of the princess on the front. Elsa, from Frozen. She loves Frozen. And she probably has on her Frozen knickers too.’

Eva realized that things she took for granted, as the parent of a young child, might be completely foreign to someone else. She’d watched that film at least a hundred times. It was on twice a day, every day, year round. Nea loved it more than anything, and she could perform the whole ‘Let It Go’ scene. Eva forced back a sob. She could picture Nea so clearly as she whirled around wearing her blue dress and the long white gloves, dancing as she sang all the lyrics. Where was she? And why were they just sitting here?

‘I’ll go and make those phone calls. Then we’ll start the search,’ said Gösta, as if he’d heard her silent scream.

All she could muster was a nod. She looked at Peter. Both of them were thinking the same dark thoughts.

BOHUSLÄN 1671 (#u4e4d6917-bc87-5782-8ded-f88f05357b4f)

It was an overcast November morning, and Elin Jonsdotter shivered as she sat next to her daughter in the clattering wagon. The vicarage, which they were gradually approaching, was beginning to look more like a castle compared with the little house where she and Per had lived in Oxnäs.

Britta had been fortunate. That had always been true. As their father’s favourite, Elin’s little sister had received all manner of advantages during their childhood, and there had never been any doubt that she would find a good husband. And their father had been right. Britta had married the vicar and moved into the vicarage, while Elin had been forced to settle for Per the fisherman. But Elin had no complaints. Per might have been poor, but a kinder person could not be found on this earth.

A heavy feeling settled in her chest at the thought of Per. But she gave herself a shake and plucked up her courage. There was no use shedding any more tears over something she could not change. God had wanted to test her, and now she and Märta would have to try to survive without Per.

She had to admit, it had been most generous of Britta to offer her a position as a maid at the vicarage, as well as a roof over their heads. Even so, Elin felt a great sense of unease as Lars Larsson drove into the yard, their few possessions piled in the wagon. Britta had not been a particularly nice child, and Elin doubted that age would have made her any kinder. But she could ill afford to turn down the offer. As tenants in the coastal area they had merely leased the fields. When Per died, the farmer had said they could stay until the end of the month, but then they would have to leave. As a poor widow without a home or any means of support, she would have to rely on the goodwill of others. And she had heard that Britta’s husband Preben, who was the vicar in Tanumshede, was a pleasant and amiable man. She had seen him only at church services. She had not been invited to Britta’s wedding, and of course she and her family had never been invited to visit the vicarage. But she recalled that he had kind eyes.

When the wagon came to a halt and Lars muttered that they should climb down, she pulled Märta close for a moment. Everything would be fine, she told herself. But a voice inside her was saying something else entirely.

Chapter Four (#ulink_ef1927ce-dabb-522a-8873-7dac6d0196ba)

Martin gave the swing another push. He couldn’t help smiling at Tuva’s happy shriek.

He was feeling better with every day that passed, and he realized this was largely due to his daughter Tuva. Right now she was on summer holiday from pre-school, and he had a couple of weeks off, so they were spending every second together. And it had done both of them a world of good. Ever since Pia died, Tuva had slept in his bed, and every night she fell asleep leaning against his chest, often in the middle of a story. He would slip out of bed when he was sure she was sleeping and go sit in front of the TV for another hour or two, drinking a cup of the calming tea he’d bought at a health-food shop. Annika was the one who had suggested in the wintertime he should try to find some soothing natural herb or supplement for those times when sleep evaded him. He didn’t know whether it was a placebo effect or the tea was actually working, but he’d been able to get some sleep. And maybe that’s what had made all the difference, enabling him to cope with the loss. It never went away entirely, but the edges had gradually worn smooth, and he could even allow himself to think of Pia without falling apart. He tried to tell Tuva about her mother. They would talk about her and look at photographs. Tuva was so young when Pia died that she had very few memories of her mother. He wanted to tell her as much about Pia as he could.