Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1-3: The Ice Princess, The Preacher, The Stonecutter

The person on the other end of the line affirmed that it was going well. After the introductory pleasantries Patrik got down to business.

‘Vicky, I wonder if you could do me a favour. I’m checking on a guy who must have entered the rolls at social services in about 1975. Ten years old, called Jan Norin back then. You think you might have anything on the case? Okay, I’ll hang on.’

He drummed impatiently with his fingers on the desktop as Vicky Lind at the social services office checked her computer records. After a while he heard her come back on the line.

‘You have the data there? Fantastic. Can you see who the social worker was on the case? Siv Persson. That’s great. Do you have her phone number?’

Patrik quickly wrote down the number on a Post-It note and hung up after promising to take Vicky to lunch one day. He punched in the number she’d given him and instantly heard a brisk voice on the line. It turned out that Siv did remember the case of Jan Norin, and it was fine if he came over right away.

Patrik grabbed his jacket from the coat rack with such eagerness that he managed to tip over the whole rack in the process. Even worse, on its way to the floor the rack had pulled down both a picture from the wall and a vase of flowers from the bookshelf, all of which created a tremendous crash. For the time being Patrik left everything where it landed. When he got to the corridor he saw heads poking out of every doorway. He just waved and ran out the front door as curious pairs of eyes stared after him.

The social service office was no more than a couple of hundred yards from the police station. Patrik trudged through the snow down the main street. At the end of the street he turned left at Tanumshede Inn and continued halfway down the block. The office was in the same building as the community administration, and he took the stairs. He was shown into Siv’s office after cheerfully greeting the receptionist, a girl from his class in high school. Siv Persson didn’t bother to get up to shake hands when he came in. Their paths had crossed many times during Patrik’s years as a cop, and they respected each other’s professional expertise even though they didn’t always share the same opinion on how best to handle a case. Part of the reason was that Siv was one of the nicest people he knew, but social workers couldn’t always get by with seeing only the best in people. At the same time he admired her for being able to retain her basically positive view of human nature despite all examples to the contrary that she had encountered over the years. Patrik felt that he seemed to have gone in the opposite direction.

‘Hi, Patrik. So you managed to make it here in spite of all the snow.’

Patrik reacted instinctively to the unnatural cheerfulness of her voice.

‘Yes, but a snowmobile would have helped.’

She raised her eyeglasses dangling on a cord around her neck and set them on the tip of her nose. Siv loved bright colours, and today her red glasses matched her clothing. She’d had the same hairdo as long as he’d known her. A page-boy style cut straight as an arrow that reached to her jawline, and a short fringe cut just above the eyebrows. Her hair was a shiny copper-red, and the bright colours made Patrik feel more lively just by looking at her.

‘It was one of my old cases you wanted to look at, you said? Jan Norin?’

Her voice was still sounding strained. She had already fetched the material before he arrived, and a thick folder lay on the desk.

‘Well, we have a good deal of material on this individual, as you see,’ she went on. ‘Both parents were addicts, and if they hadn’t died in an accident we would have had to intervene sooner or later. They let the boy run wild, and he basically had to raise himself. He showed up at school in dirty, ragged clothes and was bullied by his schoolmates because he smelled bad. Apparently, he had to sleep in the old stable and then go to school in the same clothes he slept in.’

She looked at Patrik over the top of her glasses.

‘I assume you’re not coming here to abuse my trust, but to procure the requisite authorization, if only after the fact, so that you can acquire the data on Jan?’

Patrik merely nodded. He knew that it was important to follow regulations, but sometimes investigations required a certain efficiency, and then the wheels of bureaucracy would have to turn after the fact instead. Siv and he had always had a good, pragmatic working relationship, but he knew she had to ask that question.

‘Why didn’t you step in earlier?’ Patrik asked. ‘How could the situation have been allowed to get so bad? It sounds as if Jan had been neglected since birth, and yet he was ten years old when his parents died.’

Siv gave a deep sigh. ‘Yes, I know what you mean, and believe me, I’ve had the same thought many times. But times were different when I started working here, no more than a few months before the fire actually. It took extreme circumstances before the state would step in and restrict the right of parents to raise their children as they saw fit. Many people were advocating a liberal form of child-rearing as well, and unfortunately it was children like Jan who suffered. There were never any traces of physical abuse found on him. To be crass, perhaps the best thing would have been if he were beaten, so that he could have gone to the hospital. Then at least we would have started to keep an eye on the family situation. But either he was abused so that it was never outwardly visible, or else his parents “simply” neglected him.’ Siv wiggled her fingers to indicate quotation marks around the word ‘simply’.

Patrik felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the boy Jan. How the hell could somebody be a normal human being after growing up under such circumstances?

‘But you haven’t heard the worst of it. We never had any proof, but there were indications that his parents let men abuse Jan in return for money, or narcotics.’

Patrik felt his jaw drop. This was much worse than he could ever have imagined.

‘As I said, we could never prove anything, but today we can see that Jan followed the standard pattern that we now know is associated with children who have been sexually abused. For one thing, he had big disciplinary problems at school. The other children may have bullied him, but they were also afraid of him.’

Siv opened the folder and leafed through the papers until she found what she was looking for.

‘Here it is. In the fourth grade he brought a knife to school and used it to threaten one of the worst bullies. He actually cut him in the face, but the school administration hushed the whole thing up. As far as I can see, he wasn’t punished. Several such incidents followed when Jan displayed excessive aggression towards his classmates, but the incident with the knife was the most serious. He was also reported to the principal on several occasions because he had acted inappropriately towards the girls in the class. For such a young boy, he showed a knowledge of extremely advanced sexual behaviour and allusions. The reports never resulted in any actions either. No one knew quite what to do with a child with such disturbing ways of relating to the people around him. Today, we would definitely react to such blatant signals and take action of some sort, but you must remember that this was in the early Seventies. It was a whole different world back then.’

Patrik felt nearly faint with sympathy and rage. How could anyone treat a child that way?

‘After the fire … were there other incidents like this?’ he asked.

‘No, that’s the strange thing. After the fire he was placed immediately with the Lorentz family, and after that we had no reports that Jan ever had a problem again. I drove over to their house a few times to follow up on the situation, and I found a completely different boy. He sat there in his suit with his hair slicked down and stared at me without blinking as he replied politely to all my questions. It was quite horrible, actually. A person doesn’t change overnight like that.’

Patrik gave a start. It was the first time he’d ever heard Siv hint at anything negative regarding one of her cases. He understood there was something worth digging into further. There was something she wanted to say, but he would have to ask the right question.

‘With regard to the fire …’

He let the words dangle in the air a moment and saw that Siv sat up straighter in her chair. That meant he was on the right track.

‘I heard certain rumours about the fire.’ He gave Siv a questioning look.

‘I can’t be responsible for rumours. What was it you heard?’

‘That the fire was arson. In our investigation it’s even listed as “probable arson”, but no trace of the perpetrator was ever found. The fire started on the ground floor of the house. The parents were asleep in a room upstairs and never had a chance. Did you ever hear anything about who might have hated the Norins enough to do something like that?’

‘Yes.’ Her reply was monosyllabic and so quiet that he wasn’t sure he’d really heard it.

She repeated in a louder voice, ‘Yes, I know who hated the Norins enough to want to set fire to them.’

Patrik sat silently and let her continue at her own pace.

‘I accompanied the police out to the house. The fire department were the first on the scene. One of the fire-fighters had gone to examine the site, to check whether any sparks had blown away from the house and might be smouldering somewhere else. The fireman found Jan in the stable. When the boy refused to leave, they contacted us here at social services. I was a new social worker, and in retrospect I have to admit that I thought it was very exciting. Jan was sitting in the stall, all the way at the back, leaning against the wall, under the watchful eye of a fireman, who was extremely relieved to see us arrive. I shooed off the police and went in to try to console Jan, as I thought I should, and then take him out of there. His hands kept moving in the dark where he was sitting, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. When I got closer I saw that he was sitting there fidgeting with something in his lap. It was a box of matches. With undisguised glee he was sorting the matches: burned black ones in one half of the box and new red ones in the other half. The expression on his face was sheer joy. He actually seemed to be glowing from within. It was the most horrid thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Patrik. I can still see that face before me sometimes when I go to bed at night. I went over to him and carefully took the box of matches away. Then he looked up at me and said, “Are they dead now?” That was all. “Are they dead now?” Then he giggled and willingly let me lead him out of the old stable. The last thing I saw as we left was a blanket, a pocket torch and a pile of clothes in a corner of the barn. That’s when I understood that we were complicit in his parents’ death. We should have taken action many, many years earlier.’

‘Have you ever told anyone about this?’

‘No, what would I say? That I thought he murdered his parents because he was playing with matches? No, I’ve never said anything until you came and asked me just now. But I’ve always suspected that he would have a run-in with the police sooner or later. What is he mixed up in?’

‘I can’t say anything yet, but I promise to tell you as soon as I can. I’m incredibly grateful that you told me all this, and I’ll get busy with the paperwork so that you won’t have any problems.’

He waved and left.

After he was gone Siv stayed at her desk. Her red glasses hung on their cord round her neck, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she closed her eyes.

At the same moment that Patrik stepped out into the snowdrifts on the pavement, his mobile phone rang. His fingers had already grown stiff in the bitter cold, and he had a hard time getting the little lid of his mobile open. He hoped it was Erica but was disappointed when he saw that it was the station’s dispatch number blinking on the display.

‘Patrik Hedström. Hi, Annika. No, I’m right outside social services. Okay, but give me a minute or two and I’ll be back at the station.’

He snapped the lid shut. Annika had done it again. She had found something that didn’t add up in Alex’s CV.

The snow squeaked under his feet as Patrik jogged in the direction of the station. The snowplough had passed by while he was visiting Siv, and the return wasn’t the same struggle as before. Few brave souls were venturing out in the cold weather, and the main street was deserted except for an occasional passer-by hurrying along with collar turned up and cap pulled down as protection from the cold.

Inside the door of the station Patrik stamped off the snow that had collected on his shoes. He made a note that snow in combination with street shoes made socks unpleasantly wet. He should have been able to figure that out in advance.

He went straight to Annika’s office. She was clearly waiting for him, and from the pleased expression on her face he could see that what she’d found was good, really good.

‘Are all your clothes in the wash, or what?’