The Chosen (10 page)

‘But that doesn’t mean boys are safe. These two are young enough to attract all kinds of perpetrators.’

Paedophiles. That was the word she had meant to say, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. The involvement of a paedophile was always the last thing they wanted, and the worst
case scenario.

She pushed aside the unwanted images in her mind and decided to think of something else. They knew where Simon had last been seen. Now she wanted to know where Abraham’s trail
ended.

T
he heat inside the centre was overwhelming. Alex automatically unbuttoned his coat and noticed that Fredrika had done the same. The situation seemed almost unchanged from the previous
evening, with several people working hard to find out where the boys had gone. However, the energy level had dropped. He could hear it in their voices, see it in their body language. They had
already phoned everyone they could think of; everyone who might be able to help was already here.

Peder Rydh met them at the door. He and Alex shook hands, but Fredrika reacted as Alex had done the previous day and gave him a hug. The memory of a time Alex could never recapture flared
up once more. He, Fredrika and Peder had been a super-troika, and those years had corresponded with the most difficult time in his private life. The loss of Lena to cancer had damaged him in so
many ways. Diana only had to mention a word like mammogram or biopsy for him to panic.

‘Darling, you can’t go around being scared of life itself,’ she would say.

As if it were life and not death he feared. He had no problem with the idea that we have a limited time on this earth; however, he did struggle to accept that death was forever. That people
don’t come back. Ever.

When had Fredrika and Peder last met? He had no idea, but they both looked quite emotional as they broke apart.

‘I heard you got married,’ Peder said. ‘Congratulations!’

So it must be quite a while ago. Fredrika had been married for over a year.

‘Thanks. We tied the knot while we were living in New York,’ she said with a smile. A big smile. It was obvious that she and Spencer were very much in love. Alex still hadn’t
had the pleasure of meeting Spencer, but he had heard a lot about him. Bloody stupid name, but he sounded like one of the good guys.

‘So you’re working here now,’ Fredrika said, changing the subject.

‘It’s my first day.’

‘Not a good start, what with the murder and the boys going missing.’

Peder nodded.

Alex looked around. ‘I see you’ve done part of our job for us,’ he said, referring to the barrage of telephone calls that had been made by volunteers.

‘It’s an impressive turnout,’ Peder said. ‘I had no idea the Solomon Community was so tight.’

Alex was in the same boat, and he wondered what the implications might be if the police found any leads that pointed towards the community itself.

‘Anything you can tell us?’ he asked.

Peder grew serious.

‘How far have you got? Are you leading the case now?’

Alex was surprised. Was Peder trying to trade information?

‘Yes, I’m leading the case, and I’ll be happy to tell the families what we know so far. Are they here?’

Peder relaxed.

‘The boys’ mothers are here; the fathers are still out looking.’

Still. Where were they looking, and what were they looking for? The families lived in Östermalm, the tennis centre where the boys played was no more than a kilometre away on
Lidingövägen. If someone had taken them, they could be anywhere.

People are never more irrational than when they are afraid, Alex knew that. He also knew that hope was the last thing to go. You only had to ask Peder. He could tell you what happened when hope
disappeared and hell became a reality.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Peder said quietly so that no one else could hear. ‘About the parents. But they’re just incapable of sitting at home and waiting. Do
you want me to call the fathers?’

‘Leave them for the time being,’ Alex said. ‘We’ll start with the boys’ mothers. It would be helpful if we could speak to them separately.’

Peder indicated that they should follow him.

‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet before you do anything else. He’s a friend of Abraham’s, and I think he has something important to tell you.’

The boy was sitting in the general secretary’s room, where Peder had asked him to wait for Alex and Fredrika to arrive. Peder introduced him to his former colleagues.

‘Tell them what you told me,’ he said.

The boy shuffled uncomfortably, obviously overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. Alex sat down opposite him.

‘There’s no need to be scared,’ he said. ‘No one thinks you’ve done anything wrong.’

‘But you think something terrible has happened to Abraham and Simon!’

His eyes were huge with anxiety. Peder knew that his parents had been heavily involved in the search.

‘We don’t know that yet,’ Alex said. ‘But we are worried that they might come to some harm if we don’t find them soon. It’s bitterly cold out
there.’

The boy automatically glanced over at the window, as if to confirm what Alex had said. He nodded, gazing at the snow.

‘I spoke to Abraham yesterday.’

‘And when was that?’

Fredrika stayed in the background, next to Peder. They had both silently reached the same conclusion; it was best if Alex handled this on his own.

Peder looked at her profile. Motherhood had made her even more attractive. Her face was more relaxed, not as stressed as it used to be. However that worked – having small children wasn’t
exactly a piece of cake. At least, not at Peder’s house.

‘I called just before he left for tennis; I’d forgotten he had a lesson.’

‘Do you play too?’

‘No, my dad wants me to play football instead.’

Alex smiled, but said nothing. Peder and Fredrika made no comment either; what kind of father forces his kid to play football?

‘And what did Abraham say?’

‘He was walking to the bus stop when I rang.’

Abraham didn’t live far from Karlavägen, where he was supposed to be meeting Simon. No more than two hundred metres in the direction of Djurgården.

The boy went on:

‘I was going to ask if he wanted to play computer games later, but he told me to ring back after his tennis lesson. I asked him if he knew whether we were going skating with the school
today, because if so I needed to ask my mum to get my ice skates down from the loft.’

He paused, and Peder noticed that Fredrika was moving her feet up and down impatiently. It took an eternity for children to get to the point; interviewing them required an enormous amount of
patience.

‘Abraham said he thought we were going to the ice rink, but then he said he had to go. He said that really, really quickly.’

‘Because he’d reached the bus stop where Simon was waiting?’ Alex asked.

‘No, because someone in a car had pulled up and offered him a lift. At least that’s what he said before he rang off.’

Alex turned to Peder and Fredrika, stunned into silence. Peder could see that they were all thinking the same thing.

The boys had accepted a lift and been abducted by someone known to them.

T
wo mothers on a journey through hell that Fredrika Bergman could not and would not begin to imagine. Their sons had been missing for just over eighteen hours. During those hours the silence had
been deafening; they hadn’t heard a word from or about their ten-year-old children.

I wouldn’t be able to cope, Fredrika thought. Without Isak and Saga I am nothing.

Before she had children, she had sometimes doubted whether she was capable of a mother’s love, a mother’s strength; of those qualities that seemed to make women capable of moving
mountains for the sake of their children. Fredrika had thought she was too egotistical, too self-centred to stand being needed all the time. She had been wrong. On the contrary, it suited her
perfectly to be so loved, so much in demand.

She looked at the woman in front of her.

Her name was Carmen Eisenberg, and her son was missing.

It seemed to be a very conservative arrangement: the men were out in their cars searching for the boys, while the women remained in the centre, engaged in a different aspect of the search.
Abraham’s mother was in the room next door, talking to Alex.

‘Have you been here all night?’ Fredrika asked.

‘Of course – where else would I be?’

‘I thought perhaps you might have other children at home.’

‘Some good friends are looking after our daughter. We have two children. Simon is the eldest.’

Fredrika already knew how many children they had. She also knew how old they were and where they had been born: Simon in Jerusalem, the year the family moved to Stockholm, and the girl in
Sweden. She thought about the elderly lady who had seen Simon at the bus stop, and said he looked angry.

‘What kind of person is Simon?’

‘Quiet. Conscientious. Popular. Maybe too nice.’

Maybe too nice? Was that possible when you were ten years old?

‘What do you mean?’

Don’t evaluate what is said, just listen and ask for clarification if you don’t understand.

‘He’s always keen to fit in with everyone else, always ready to compromise. Sometimes others take advantage.’

‘His friends, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘Abraham?’

‘Especially Abraham.’

Her tone was neutral, she didn’t look upset. Fredrika had watched the interaction between the two mothers for a little while; they seemed to know each other well, and worked together with
no friction. However, she hadn’t got the impression that they were close friends.

‘Tell me.’

Carmen crossed her legs and tilted her head on one side. She spoke with a noticeable accent, a legacy from Israel. Fredrika didn’t understand a word of Hebrew, but she recognised the language.

Israel. The country to which Spencer would be travelling on Sunday.

Without her.

‘How can I explain?’ Carmen said. ‘On the whole, Abraham is a good kid; he’s tough and confident, and nobody can tell me that those aren’t important qualities in
life. But the negative side is that he’s incredibly competitive. Every single thing is a competition. Reaching the front door first when you get out of the car; scoring the highest marks
in the maths test. Simon’s not like that at all. He won’t take on Abraham’s constant challenges; instead he just lies down, so to speak. In school he runs his own race. If Abraham
wants to make comparisons, he’s welcome to do so, but as far as Simon is concerned, thinking of every test or piece of homework as a competition does nothing to improve his
motivation.’

‘And of course Abraham is aware of this?’

‘Absolutely. So if they’re playing football or computer games or whatever, he’s very good at getting his own way. Whatever the cost. Simon can’t cope with all
that.’

Fredrika thought about Simon standing at the bus stop, annoyed and probably cold.

‘Does Simon often end up waiting for Abraham?’

‘Far too often. My husband sometimes tells him off about it; he thinks Simon should make it clear to Abraham that you can’t behave like that.’

Very wise. As long as Dad’s criticism didn’t turn into yet another problem.

‘I realise this might sound stupid, but I have to ask,’ Fredrika said. ‘Do you think there’s the slightest chance that the boys might have gone off somewhere on their own?’

‘No.’

Neither do I.

‘Abraham wouldn’t be able to persuade Simon to do something like that?’

‘The point is, if Simon ever got the idea of doing something as ridiculous as running away from home, Abraham would be the last person he would choose as his accomplice.’

Why did it have to be so hot in here? Alex thought about taking off his jacket as well, but would that look too informal? Probably.

So he kept it on as he interviewed Abraham’s mother.

Daphne Goldmann. A tall, dark woman with a steely expression. Just like Simon’s parents, Abraham’s mother and father had relocated to Sweden ten years ago. Alex wondered if this
was a coincidence, or whether the move had been a joint enterprise.

‘I understand that you’re under immense strain,’ he began. ‘Is someone helping out with your other children while you and your husband are here?’

‘Abraham is our only child.’

So if something happens to him, you have no one left.

‘Do you work outside the home?’

‘My husband and I run a company offering various kinds of security solutions for organisations involved in activities in need of protection.’

Alex had no idea what any of that meant, but didn’t really want to dig any deeper.

‘When and how did you discover that Abraham was missing?’

He already knew the answer, but he had to start somewhere.

‘We realised something had happened when he didn’t come home after tennis. We called his coach, who said that neither Abraham nor Simon had turned up for their session. He had
assumed they’d had problems because of the weather; apparently several of the children weren’t there yesterday.’

‘And what was your initial reaction?’

‘That something was wrong. That something had happened to them. If they’d got stuck somewhere because of the snow, they would have called.’

‘Why? Couldn’t they just have decided to skip tennis and do something that was more fun?’

Daphne folded her arms.

‘Definitely not.’

‘Because?’

‘Because as far as Abraham is concerned, nothing is more fun than playing tennis.’

‘Is he good?’

‘He’s good at everything he does. Tennis is no exception.’

Alex ran a hand over his chin, remembering the photographs he had seen of the boys.

‘What’s his temperament like?’

‘He’s very similar to his father. He can be hot-headed, but he can also be very considerate. Above all, he’s totally loyal.’

‘To his family? His friends?’

‘To everyone he cares about.’

‘Does he have a lot of friends?’

‘Absolutely.’

Alex thought about Simon, waiting in the cold at the bus stop.