Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning

‘Around eight. Quarter past, I think. I realized that something must have happened. She never would have stayed out all night on purpose. But I hesitated to call the police. I thought she might have driven over to a friend’s house, or else she was out walking all night, or … I’m not sure what I thought. When you arrived I was just thinking about ringing round to the hospitals, and if I didn’t find her there I was going to call you.’

The tears had started falling again, and she had to blow her nose once more. Patrik could see how sorrow, pain, and self-reproach were whirling round inside her, and he wished there were something he could say that would at least take away the blame. But instead he was forced to make the matter worse.

‘We …’ he hesitated, cleared his throat, and then went on: ‘we suspect that she was highly intoxicated when the accident occurred. Is that something she … had a problem with?’

He took another sip of his coffee and wished for a second that he was somewhere else, far away. Not here, not in this kitchen, with these questions and this grief. Kerstin gave him a surprised look.

‘Marit never drank. Not as long as I’ve known her, at least, and that’s more than four years. She didn’t like the taste. She didn’t even drink cider.’

Patrik gave Martin a significant look. Yet another odd detail to add to the elusive feeling he’d had ever since he saw the accident site a couple of hours earlier.

‘And you’re quite sure of this?’ It seemed a stupid question; she’d already answered it, but there was no room for ambiguities.

‘Yes, absolutely! I’ve never seen her drink wine or beer or anything like that. To think that she had got drunk and then got behind the wheel … no, that just can’t be. I don’t understand.’ Kerstin looked at Patrik and then at Martin with bewilderment. There was no rhyme or reason to what they had said. Marit didn’t drink, it was as simple as that.

‘Where can we get hold of her daughter? Do you have an address for Marit’s ex-husband?’ Martin asked, taking out a notebook and pen.

‘He lives in the Kullen area of Fjällbacka. I have the address here.’ She took down a note from the bulletin board and handed it to Martin. She still looked confused, but the inexplicable news had made her stop crying for a while.

‘So you don’t want us to ring anyone for you?’ asked Patrik as he got up from the table.

‘No. I … I think I’d like to be alone for now.’

‘Okay. But do call if there’s anything we can do.’ Patrik left her his card. He turned round just before pulling the front door closed behind him and Martin. Kerstin was still sitting at the kitchen table. She sat totally still.

‘Annika! Has the new girl showed up yet?’ Mellberg yelled the question out into the corridor.

‘Yes!’ Annika shouted back without bothering to leave the reception.

‘So where is she?’ Mellberg continued, still shouting.

‘Right here,’ said a female voice, and a second later Hanna popped into the corridor.

‘Ah yes, well, yes, if you’re not too busy perhaps you’d like to come in and introduce yourself,’ he said acidly. ‘It’s customary for a person to say hello to her new boss; usually that’s the first thing one does at a new job.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Hanna solemnly, approaching Mellberg with her hand extended. ‘As soon as I arrived Patrik Hedström took me out on a call, and we just got back. I was on my way to see you, naturally. First of all, allow me to say how much I’ve heard about the great work everyone is doing here. It’s certainly to your credit how you’ve handled the homicide investigations in recent years. And there’s a lot of talk about what superb leadership you must have here, to enable such a small station to resolve those cases in such an exemplary way.’

She took his hand in a firm grip, as Mellberg gave her a suspicious glance to see whether he would find any sort of irony in what she’d just said. But her gaze held no sign of mockery, and he quickly decided to swallow the flattery whole. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a woman in uniform after all. She was easy on the eyes too. A bit too thin for his taste, but not half bad, not half bad at all. Although after the conversation he’d had that morning, with such a fortunate result, he had to admit that he didn’t feel the same tingle in the pit of his stomach at the sight of this attractive woman. To his great surprise his thoughts turned instead to Rose-Marie’s warm voice and the joy with which she had accepted his invitation to dinner.

‘Well, let’s not stand out here in the corridor,’ he said after reluctantly dismissing his recollection of the pleasant telephone call. ‘Let’s take a seat in my office and have a chat.’

Hanna followed him into his office and sat down in the chair facing his desk.

‘So, I see that you’ve already managed to get your feet wet.’

‘Yes, Inspector Hedström took me along to investigate a vehicular accident. A single-car crash. With one fatality, unfortunately.’

‘Yes, that does happen from time to time.’

‘Our first assessment indicates that alcohol was involved as well. The driver reeked of it.’

‘Damn. Did Patrik say it was someone we’d brought in for driving under the influence before?’

‘No, apparently not. He even recognized the victim. Some woman who had a shop on Affärsvägen. Marit, I think he said.’

‘I’ll be damned,’ said Mellberg, contemplatively scratching his hair, which was coiled on top of his scalp. ‘Marit? I never would have believed it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hope you didn’t have to inform the next of kin on your first day here.’

‘No,’ said Hanna, looking down at her shoes. ‘Patrik and a short, younger officer with red hair went off to do that.’

‘That’s Martin Molin,’ said Mellberg. ‘Didn’t Patrik introduce you two?’

‘No, he probably forgot. I suspect he must have been thinking about the task at hand.’

‘Hmm,’ said Mellberg. There was a long silence. Then he cleared his throat.

‘Well then. Welcome to Tanumshede police station. I hope you’ll enjoy it here. What sort of living arrangements have you made, by the way?’

‘We’re renting a house, that is, my husband and I are, in the area across from the church. We actually moved in a week ago and have been spending the time getting settled. We’re renting the house furnished, but we want to make it as cosy as possible.’

‘And your husband? What does he do? Did he find a job here too?’

‘Not yet,’ said Hanna, lowering her eyes again. Her hands moved restlessly in her lap.

Mellberg was silently sneering to himself. So, she was married to that sort of man. An out-of-work shit who let himself be supported by his wife. Well, some people could get away with it.

‘Lars is a psychologist,’ said Hanna, as if she could hear what Mellberg was thinking. ‘He’s been looking, but there aren’t many job opportunities around here. So until he finds something, he’s working on a book. A non-fiction book. And he’ll also be working several hours a week as a psychologist for the participants in Sodding Tanum.’

‘I see,’ said Mellberg in a tone that showed he’d already lost interest in what her husband did. ‘Well, once again, welcome to the station.’ He got up to indicate that she could leave now that the formalities had been concluded.

‘Thank you,’ said Hanna.

‘Please close the door after you,’ said Mellberg. For a brief moment he thought he saw an amused smile on her lips. But he was probably mistaken. She seemed to have great respect for him and his work. She had said as much, more or less, and given his deep insight into human behaviour, he could always tell when someone was being honest or not. And Hanna was definitely honest.

‘How’d it go?’ said Annika in a whisper when she entered Hanna’s office a few seconds later.

‘Well now,’ said Hanna, giving her the amused smile that Mellberg imagined he hadn’t seen. ‘A real character, that one,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Character. Yes, I suppose you could call him that,’ said Annika with a laugh. ‘In any case it looks like you can handle him. Don’t take any shit, that’s my advice. If he thinks he can mess with you, you’re done for.’

‘I’ve encountered a few other Mellbergs in my day, so I know how to handle him,’ said Hanna. And Annika had no doubt that she meant what she said. ‘Flatter him a bit, pretend you’re doing exactly what he says, but then do whatever you think is best. As long as it turns out okay in the end, he’ll pretend it was all his idea from the start – am I right?’

‘Exactly. That’s precisely how to succeed when Bertil Mellberg is your boss,’ said Annika, laughing as she returned to her desk in the reception area. She didn’t have to worry about the new girl. A mind of her own, smart and tough as nails. It was going to be a pleasure to watch her take on Mellberg.

Dejected, Dan began picking up the things scattered around the girls’ room. As usual they had left it looking as though a small bomb had gone off. He knew that he should be stricter about making them pick up after themselves, but his time with them was so precious. Every other weekend he had the girls stay over, and he wanted to extract all he could from their time together, not waste it on nagging and quarrels. He knew it was wrong; he ought to assume his parental responsibility and not dump it all on Pernilla, but the weekend went so fast, and the years also seemed to be passing with frightening speed. Belinda had already turned sixteen and was practically an adult. Malin at ten and Lisen at seven were growing so fast that sometimes it felt as though he couldn’t keep up.

Three years after the divorce the guilt still sat like a block of stone on his chest. If he hadn’t made that fateful mistake he might not be standing here picking up the girls’ clothes and toys in a house that echoed with emptiness. Maybe it had also been a mistake to keep living in the Falkeliden house. Pernilla had moved to Munkedal to be close to her family. But he hadn’t wanted the girls to lose the home they remembered. So he worked, saved, and scrimped so that the girls could feel at home every other weekend when they came to visit. But soon it would no longer be possible. The cost of paying for the house was crushing him. Before six months were over he’d be forced to make a decision. He sat down heavily on Malin’s bed and rested his head in his hands.

The ringing of the telephone roused him from his brooding. He reached for the phone by Malin’s bed.