The Preacher

‘I want ice creeeeeeam!!!’ The boy whined and jumped up and down, and now his face was bright red.

‘We don’t have any, I tell you!’ Patrik’s patience was starting to wear thin.

‘ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM …’

Victor wasn’t going to give up easily. But he must have seen from Patrik’s eyes that a limit had been reached, because he quieted down and slowly backed out of the kitchen. Then he ran crying to his parents who were sitting out on the veranda, ignoring the tumult in the kitchen.

‘PAPPAAA, Uncle Patrik is mean! I want some ICE CREEEAM!’

With the coffee pot in his hand Patrik tried to turn a deaf ear and went out to greet his guests. Conny stood up and held out his hand. When Patrik greeted Britta he too experienced her cold-fish handshake.

‘Victor’s going through a phase right now,’ she said. ‘He’s testing the limits of his own will. We don’t want to hamper his personal development, so we’re letting him find out where the dividing line runs between his own wishes and those of other people.’

Britta gave her son a tender look, and Patrik remembered Erica telling him that she was a psychologist. But if this was her idea of raising children, then psychology was a profession that little Victor would be in close contact with when he grew up. Conny hardly seemed to notice what was going on, and he shut his son up by stuffing a good-sized piece of cake in the boy’s mouth. Judging by Victor’s rotundity, this was a frequent tactic. But Patrik had to admit that it was effective and appealing in all its simplicity.

By the time Erica came downstairs, freshly showered and with a much more alert expression on her face, Patrik had set the shrimp and other dishes on the table. He’d also managed to fix the children each a pizza after realizing that it was the only way to avoid a total catastrophe at dinner.

They all sat down and Erica was just about to open her mouth to say ‘bon appetit’ when Conny dug into the bowl of shrimp with both hands. One, two, three big fistfuls of shrimp landed on his plate, leaving barely half of the original amount in the bowl.

‘Mmm, delicious. Now I’m a guy who knows how to eat shrimp.’ Conny proudly patted his stomach and dug into his mountain of shrimp.

Patrik, who had put in the serving bowl fully two kilos of ruinously expensive shrimp, merely sighed and took a small handful that hardly took up any space on his plate. Erica without a word did the same and then passed the bowl to Britta, who morosely took the rest.

After the unsuccessful dinner they made the beds for their visitors in the guest room and excused themselves early, on the pretext that Erica needed to rest. Patrik showed Conny where the whisky was and escaped in relief upstairs to peace and quiet.

When they finally got into bed, Patrik told Erica what he’d been doing all day. He had long since given up trying to keep his police activities a secret from Erica, but he also knew that she kept her mouth shut about what he told her. When he got to the episode with the two missing women, he could see that she pricked up her ears.

‘I remember reading about that. So you think they might be the ones you found?’

‘I’m fairly sure of it. It would be too big a coincidence otherwise. But as soon as we get the report from the ME we can start investigating the matter properly, but for the time being we have to keep as many options open as possible.’

‘You don’t need any help digging up background material, do you?’ She turned eagerly towards him and he could see the gleam in her eyes.

‘No, no, no. You have to take it easy. Don’t forget that you’re actually on sick leave.’

‘Sure, but my blood pressure was back down at the last check-up. And I’m going stir crazy being at home all the time. I haven’t even been able to start writing a new book.’

The book about Alexandra Wijkner and her tragic death had been a big seller, and in turn had brought Erica a contract for another true crime book. The writing had demanded enormous effort on her part, both in research and emotion, and after sending it off to the publisher in May she hadn’t felt like starting a new project. High blood pressure followed by sick leave had tipped the scales against her, so she had reluctantly postponed all work on a new book until after the baby arrived. But it wasn’t in her nature just to sit at home and twiddle her thumbs.

‘Annika is on holiday, so she can’t do it. And it isn’t as easy as you might think to do research. You have to know where to look, and I do. Can’t I just take a quick peek –’

‘No, out of the question. Hopefully Conny and his wild bunch will leave early in the morning, and then you can take it easy. Now be quiet so I can talk to the baby a minute. We have to get started planning his football career –’

‘Or hers.’

‘Or hers. Although then it would probably be golf instead. There isn’t any money in women’s football yet.’

Erica just sighed, but obediently lay down on her back to facilitate the conversation.

‘Don’t they notice when you sneak out?’ Stefan was lying on his side next to Linda and tickling her face with a straw.

‘No, because Jacob “trusts” me.’ She frowned, mimicking her brother’s serious tone of voice. ‘It’s something he picked up from all those courses on how to create good contact with young people. The worst thing is that most of the kids seem to lap it up; for some of them Jacob is like God. Although if you’ve grown up without a father you probably take whatever you can get.’ Annoyed, she slapped away the straw Stefan was tickling her with. ‘Cut that out.’

‘What’s the matter, can’t I tease you a little?’

She could see that he was offended, and she leaned over and kissed him, as if putting a plaster on a cut. It just wasn’t a good day today. She’d got her period that morning, so she wouldn’t be able to make love with Stefan for a week. And then it was getting on her nerves to be living in the same house with her splendid brother and his equally splendid wife.

‘Oh, if only the year would be over fast so I could leave this fucking hole!’

They had to whisper so they wouldn’t be discovered in their hiding place in the hayloft, but she slapped her hand on the boards to punctuate her words.

‘Do you wish you could leave me too? Is that what you want?’

The hurt expression on Stefan’s face deepened, and she bit her tongue. If she ever got out in the wide world, she would never look at someone like Stefan. As long as she was stuck here at home he was amusing enough, but that was all. But he didn’t need to know that. So she curled up like a cuddly little kitten and snuggled closer. When she got no response, she took his arm and put it around her. As if of their own accord his fingers began to wander over her body, and she smiled to herself. Men were so easy to manipulate.

‘You could come with me, couldn’t you?’ She said this knowing full well that he would never be able to tear himself away from Fjällbacka, or rather from his brother. Sometimes she wondered whether he even went to the toilet without asking Robert’s permission.

He didn’t answer the question. Instead he said, ‘Have you talked to your father? What does he say about your idea of leaving town?’

‘What can he say? In a year he won’t be able to tell me what to do. As soon as I turn eighteen he’ll have fuck-all to do about it. And that will drive him crazy. Sometimes I think he wishes that he could enter us in one of his fucking account books. Jacob debit, Linda credit.’

‘What do you mean, debit?’

Linda laughed. ‘Those are financial terms, nothing you need to worry about.’

‘I just wonder how things would have been if …’ Stefan fixed his gaze somewhere behind her as he continued to chew on a straw.

‘How things would have been if what?’

‘If Pappa hadn’t lost all the money. Then maybe we would have been the ones living in the manor house, and you’d be in the cabin with Uncle Gabriel and Aunt Laine.’

‘Oh yeah, that would have been a sight. Mamma living in a shabby cabin. Poor as a churchmouse.’

Linda tilted her head back and laughed so loud that Stefan had to shush her so she wouldn’t be heard over in Jacob and Marita’s house, only a stone’s throw from the barn.

‘Maybe Pappa would have still been alive today, in that case. And then Mamma wouldn’t spend her days poring over those sodding photo albums,’ said Stefan.

‘But it wasn’t because of the money that he –’

‘You don’t know that. What the hell do you know about why he did it?’ His voice rose an octave and turned shrill.

‘Everybody knows.’

Linda didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken, and she didn’t dare look Stefan in the eye. The family feud and everything connected with it had always been off limits, by tacit agreement.

‘Everybody thinks they know, but nobody knows fucking shit,’ Stefan went on. ‘And there’s your brother, living on our farm – that’s too fucking much!’

‘It’s not Jacob’s fault things turned out the way they did,’ said Linda. It felt odd to defend the brother she usually showered with abuse, but blood was thicker than water. ‘He got the farm from Grandpa, and besides, he’s always been the first to defend Johannes.’