The Girl in the Woods

Märta gave the vicar a look that Elin had not seen since misfortune had befallen them, and it made her heart ache. Per was the only one who had ever received such looks from Märta. Yet there was something about Preben that reminded her of Per. A kindness in his eyes that was soothing and invited trust.

‘Her name will be Viola,’ said Märta, ‘since violets are my favourite flowers.’

‘A splendid name,’ said Preben.

He looked at Elin. They had to hope the kitten did not turn out to be a male.

‘Märta wants to learn to read,’ said Preben, patting the girl’s blond head. ‘My parish clerk gives the children lessons twice a week.’

‘I do not see what use she would have for that,’ said Elin.

If there was one thing life had taught her, it was that womenfolk did best not to draw attention. Or to entertain great hopes. Disappointment was all they could expect in life.

‘She must be able to read her catechism,’ said Preben, and Elin felt ashamed.

How could she argue with the vicar? If he thought it beneficial or even advisable for her daughter to learn to read, who was she to object?

‘In that case, Märta may attend the lessons,’ said Elin, bowing her head.

She herself had never learned to read. She had managed to handle the repeated catechism questions because she had learned everything by rote.

‘That is decided then,’ said Preben happily, giving Märta one last pat on the head.

He stood up and brushed the straw from his trousers. Elin tried not to look at him. There was something about him that attracted her, and she was ashamed the thought had even entered her mind. Preben was her sister’s husband and the vicar of the church. To feel anything but gratitude and reverence for such a man was a sin, and she deserved God’s punishment.

‘I suppose I had better go in and help Britta with the preparations now, before she runs all the servants ragged,’ he said cheerfully. Then he turned to Märta. ‘Take care of Viola now. You have a good eye for who needs a helping hand.’

‘Thank you,’ said Märta, giving Preben such an adoring look that Elin’s heart melted.

And ached. The longing she felt for Per struck her with such force she had to turn away. Listening to Preben’s retreating footsteps, she banished the memories from her mind. Per was gone. There was nothing to be done about it. She and Märta had only each other now. And Viola.

Chapter Nine (#ulink_51566685-f733-5a61-921e-527a33c3c7c7)

‘This is a very sad day,’ said Patrik, looking around at his colleagues in the conference room.

No one spoke, no one looked at him. He supposed that, like him, they were thinking about their own children. Or grandchildren.

‘Bertil and I are cancelling all leave. As of now, everyone is back on the job,’ he said. ‘I hope you will understand.’

‘I think I speak for everybody here when I say you couldn’t keep us away,’ said Paula.

‘That’s what I thought,’ replied Patrik, moved by his colleagues’ response. Even Mellberg was eager to get to work.

‘So let’s tend to the practical matters first. I know that several of you have children who aren’t in school at the moment.’

He looked at Martin as he said this.

‘Pia’s parents will take care of Tuva while I’m at work.’

‘Good,’ said Patrik.

Since no one else spoke, he assumed that Paula and Annika had also made arrangements at home. The death of a child took priority over everything else. It was all hands on deck, and he knew they had many hours of work ahead of them.

‘Gösta, how are the parents doing?’ asked Patrik, sitting down in a chair next to the whiteboard at the front of the room.

‘As well as could be expected,’ said Gösta, blinking several times. ‘The pastor came over, and I called in the doctor as well. When I left, both parents had been given a sedative to help them sleep.’

‘Do they have any relatives who can come over?’ asked Annika, who had a big family and was used to having lots of people around, lending their support in a crisis.

‘Eva’s parents are dead. Peter’s parents live in Spain, but they’re on a plane as we speak. They should be here in a few hours.’

‘What has Torbjörn told you so far? How is their work coming along?’ asked Martin, reaching for the large Thermos jug that Annika had filled with coffee before the meeting began.

‘The girl’s body is being taken to Gothenburg for the post-mortem,’ said Patrik quietly.

The memory of lifting Nea’s small body out from underneath the tree trunk would stay with him forever. Wild animals had not been able to reach her as she lay there in the hollow, but insects had poured out when they lifted her. Images flashed through his mind in rapid progression; he knew the same sequence would be replayed in his mind every night for the foreseeable future. He had observed many post-mortems in the course of his career, so he was familiar with what went on. All too familiar. He didn’t want to picture the little girl lying naked and exposed on the steel table. He didn’t want to know where Pedersen would make the incisions, how her organs would be removed, how everything that had once given her life would be weighed and measured. He didn’t want to know how the stitches would then form a ‘Y’ on her chest.

‘How did it go at the crime scene?’ Gösta asked. ‘Did they find anything useful?’

Patrik gave a start as he tried to shake off the visions of Nea on the autopsy table.

‘They collected a lot of material, but we don’t know yet how significant it will be.’

‘What sort of things did they find?’ Martin wanted to know.

‘Footprints, though they might be from the three men who found her or the previous search parties. Everyone who took part in the search has been asked to provide footprints. Did any of you search that particular area? If so, we need footprints from you too.’

‘No, none of us was in the area where the girl was found,’ said Gösta, helping himself to a cup of coffee.

‘Okay, footprints. What else?’ asked Paula.

‘I’m not sure. The techs were putting a lot of things in plastic bags, but I won’t know the details until Torbjörn’s report comes in. He doesn’t like to give out any information until he’s had a chance to take a close look at all the collected material.’

Mellberg stood up and went over to the window.

‘Damn, it’s hot in here.’

He tugged at his shirt collar as if he couldn’t breathe. There were big patches of sweat under his arms, and his comb-over had slid down over one ear. He opened the window. The traffic noise was a little intrusive, but no one objected to having fresh air sweep through the stuffy room. Ernst, the station’s dog, had been lying at Mellberg’s feet, panting. Now he got up and padded over to the window to sniff at the air.

‘So Torbjörn didn’t tell you anything?’ asked Paula.

Patrik shook his head. ‘No, we’ll have to wait for his preliminary report. And I need to find out from Pedersen when we can expect the results of the post-mortem. I’m afraid there are other cases ahead of this one, but I’ll talk to him and see what he can do.’

‘You were there at the scene. Did you notice anything?’ Paula persisted. ‘Anything on her body or—’

Martin grimaced.

‘No. And it’s not worth speculating until Pedersen has time to examine her.’