The Disappeared (8 page)

‘If we think the same person killed Rebecca and the man we found yesterday, then it can hardly have been Håkan Nilsson,’ Peder said. ‘He wasn’t even born when the man was murdered.’

‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Alex said. ‘But we know too little about all this to eliminate him completely. He might have a connection with the first killer that we’re unaware of. I want to run a DNA check on him and compare it with Rebecca’s unborn child, if that’s possible. If he’s the father, we’ve got enough to bring him in.’

‘What if he refuses to co-operate?’

‘If he refuses to supply us with a DNA sample voluntarily, then we’ll go to the prosecutor. We know that Rebecca was pregnant, and that she’d expressed concern about the fact that the father would want to keep the child, even though she was keen to have a termination. We also know that Rebecca and Håkan had slept together, and that Håkan would have wanted to keep the child if she had got pregnant. That’s enough. More than enough. Even though I have to admit that I don’t really see Håkan as our killer.’

‘Any other leads?’

‘In the light of the fact that we’ve found another body, the rumours about Rebecca selling sex over the Internet have become more interesting than her pregnancy. See what you can find out; there might be more history to it; the older body might fit in somehow.’

Peder glanced at his notebook.

‘There’s the ex-girlfriend too,’ he said.’

‘I thought Fredrika could take care of her when she comes in.’

At that moment Fredrika appeared in the doorway.

‘Who am I taking care of?’

‘Rebecca Trolle’s ex-girlfriend, Daniella. Good morning, by the way.’

‘Good morning.’

Fredrika was fiddling with a pale blue scarf draped over the shoulders of her jacket.

‘We need to go through her things as well.’

Alex looked unsure.

‘Why? We already have copies of everything that was considered interesting when we went through the material two years ago.’

Fredrika frowned.

‘It struck me yesterday that it looks as if a significant amount was weeded out. For example, I can’t find any information about text books, or copies of her notes.’

‘Why would you want those?’ Peder asked.

‘She was a student when she went missing. That means she spent a large proportion of her waking hours studying, attending lectures, hanging out with friends. According to Alex, she was in the middle of writing her dissertation when she died. I can’t find any indication of what her topic was.’

Alex ran a hand through his hair, choosing his words with care.

‘As I said yesterday, we spoke to her supervisor. He told us about the topic, but to be honest we didn’t think it was relevant. I think she was writing about a children’s author: Thea Aldrin, if you remember her.’

He shrugged.

‘The topic itself didn’t suggest any exciting theories, so we left it at that.’

‘Do you mind if I take another look?’ Fredrika asked. ‘Thea Aldrin was a controversial figure, to say the least.’

Alex suppressed a sigh. How many times had he had a similar conversation with Fredrika?

‘If you have time,’ he said. ‘I want you to talk to the ex-girlfriend first; you can look at the other stuff tomorrow.’

Fredrika went back to her office; Peder stayed with Alex.

‘I’ll start with Håkan’s DNA sample, then I’ll look into the sex rumours.’

‘Good,’ said Alex. ‘I hope we hear from the pathologist pretty bloody quickly; I want an ID for the second victim as soon as possible.’

Håkan Nilsson was very annoyed when Peder rang his doorbell, accompanied by a colleague. Peder introduced his fellow officer and explained why they were there.

‘Why do you want my DNA?’ Håkan asked.

‘Rebecca was pregnant when she died, and we want to establish who the father was.’

The colour drained from Håkan’s face.

‘Pregnant? You didn’t mention that yesterday.’

His voice was weak, his eyes open wide.

‘Didn’t you know?’

Peder’s tone was harsher than it had been the previous day.

‘No.’

It was difficult to know whether he was telling the truth.

‘Do you think I did it?’

Håkan was trying to look tough, but the uncertainty shone on his face like newly polished shoes.

‘We don’t think anything,’ Peder replied. ‘And we want to keep it that way as far as you’re concerned. That’s why we want to run a DNA check, so that we can eliminate you from our inquiries.’

‘I’ve got to go to work – can I come in later?’

‘No, we’d like you to come now. Make a phone call and tell them you’ll be late for work.’

He tilted his head to one side and added in a gentler tone of voice: ‘Tell them you’re helping the police with their inquiries. That usually impresses an employer.’

Håkan gave him a long look, then went to fetch his keys and wallet.

‘It doesn’t matter whether I’m the child’s father or not,’ he said. ‘You’ve already checked my alibi, and you know I couldn’t have done it.’

‘If I remember rightly, you were at a big party the night Rebecca disappeared. Would anyone have noticed if you’d slipped away for a couple of hours?’

When Håkan didn’t reply, Peder looked more closely at him. He looked upset. Hurt.

‘It wasn’t a party,’ he said. ‘It was more of a dinner for the mentoring network. It was an all day event. Rebecca was supposed to be there too, but she didn’t turn up.’

Peder frowned.

‘Had you fallen out? Was that why she didn’t come?’

‘I answered those questions yesterday.’

Håkan grabbed his jacket.

‘You think this is all about me,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll be embarrassed when you find out how wrong you are.’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Peder.

Fredrika was accompanied by a new colleague when she went to see Rebecca’s ex-girlfriend – DC Cecilia Torsson was driving, with Fredrika in the passenger seat.

‘You’ve just come back to work, haven’t you?’ Cecilia asked.

‘Yesterday,’ Fredrika replied.

They were covering the short distance between HQ and Tegnérlunden, where Rebecca’s ex-girlfriend rented an apartment. The city looked beautiful beneath a clear blue sky; Stockholm at its very best.

‘Are you the one who’s had a baby by a married man?’

Fredrika stiffened. What kind of a question was that, for God’s sake?

‘No,’ she replied. ‘And if you have any more questions about my private life, I suggest you keep them to yourself.’

‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it was such a sensitive issue.’

Silenced descended inside the car. Fredrika breathed deeply to stop herself from boiling over. Obviously, she realised that her private life aroused a certain amount of curiosity, but surely people could be tactful? She would have been. At least she thought she would.

‘This is where she lives.’

Cecilia pulled up by the kerb.

‘We can’t park here,’ Fredrika said, pointing to a sign.

Cecilia stuck a note on the windscreen to indicate that this was a police vehicle.

‘We can now.’

That wasn’t true, but Fredrika couldn’t face making herself even more unpopular than she already was. The note could be used only when officers were involved in an operation, which was hardly the case at the moment.

Daniella lived on the second floor, and there was no lift. Fredrika had checked up on her before leaving the station. Rebecca’s ex had a colourful past. While she was still at secondary school she had spent time in both child and youth psychiatric units on a number of occasions. She also had a criminal record and had been a suspect in other cases, but these involved only minor offences such as theft and vandalism. After leaving school, she had spent a term at college, and since then she had either been working or signed off due to ill health.

Rebecca and Daniella had got together when Rebecca returned from studying in France. Fredrika found it difficult to imagine what the two girls would have had in common, apart from the desire to experiment. Rebecca was a sensible girl who lived a structured life and had clear-cut ambitions – at least on paper. Although that might have been the problem, of course. When structure and ambition become too suffocating, a desire to push the boundaries often grows stronger.

Cecilia rang the doorbell.

No reply. She tried again. They heard the sound of running feet from inside the apartment, heavy footsteps heading for the hallway. The latch clicked and the door opened.

‘Daniella?’

Fredrika edged in front of Cecilia and showed her ID.

‘Police – we’d like to speak to you.’

Daniella backed away from the door and Fredrika and Cecilia stepped inside.

‘Coffee?’

They both refused. ‘We won’t keep you for long,’ Cecilia said.

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t have a cup of coffee, does it?’

Daniella led the way into the kitchen, where she flopped down on one of the mismatched chairs. The apartment was sparsely furnished; it was obviously a sublet. The bare walls were covered in photographs, all showing the same person: a young boy staring into the camera with a defiant expression.

‘Who’s this?’ Fredrika asked, pointing to one of the photos.

‘My brother.’

‘It looks as if you’re the same age.’

‘Wrong. He was ten years older than me. He’s dead.’

Fredrika sat down at the table, well aware of Cecilia’s triumphant expression as she gloated over Fredrika’s faux pas.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly.

‘Me too.’

Daniella didn’t look the way Fredrika had expected. She was more powerfully built, bordering on fat. Her hair was spiky and as black as coal, contrasting sharply with the pale eyes.

‘I presume this is about Rebecca?’

‘Yes, we’ve found her.’

‘I saw it on TV.’

‘Are you glad she’s been found?’ Cecilia asked.

Daniella shrugged indifferently.

‘I didn’t care at the time and I don’t care now. She was a complete fucking bitch.’

The language was far removed from anything Fredrika would normally use.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She was just playing with me, making me think what we had was real.’

‘When was this?’

‘A few years ago, when she got back from France.’

A few years ago. And she was still a fucking bitch.

‘You must have really loved her,’ Cecilia said gently.

Instead of replying, Daniella got up to fetch a glass of water. This time she didn’t bother asking them if they wanted a drink.

‘How did it end?’ Fredrika asked.

‘She rang and told me it was over.’

‘That’s low, not telling you face to face,’ Cecilia said.

‘Too bloody right,’ Daniella agreed. ‘And then she came back.’

‘You got back together?’

‘Not properly, just the odd snog. She was at the university – she was too good for me. I think she was ashamed of me.’

Fredrika looked at a photograph on top of the fridge: Daniella’s brother again. He was everywhere.

‘When did you break off contact?’

Daniella shuffled uncomfortably.

‘We didn’t. I didn’t want to let go completely, if you know what I mean.’

‘Not really.’

‘If you like a person, you want to keep in touch. You don’t want them to disappear.’

Like your brother did.

‘And what did Rebecca think about that? Did she call you sometimes, or was it always you who called her?’

‘It was mostly me. She was always so fucking busy. Swimming lessons for babies and the church choir and God knows what. And then there was bloody Håkan as well.’

Fredrika straightened up.

‘Håkan?’

‘He kept on poking his nose in, saying I shouldn’t ring Rebecca. He was off his head – he couldn’t see that she didn’t want him to ring her either.’

‘Did Rebecca regard Håkan as a problem?’

Daniella gave a short, barking laugh.

‘He followed her around like a puppy. He seemed to think they were best friends, or something.’

‘But they weren’t?’

‘No fucking chance. In the end she couldn’t stand him.’

And could she stand you? Fredrika wondered.

‘When did you last speak to Rebecca?’ Cecilia asked.

‘The day before she went missing; I rang her, but she didn’t have time to chat. She was on her way to see that toffee-nosed mentor of hers. She was supposed to call me later, but she never did.’

Fredrika noted the mention of Rebecca’s mentor; it had come up several times, and she still didn’t know what it meant.

‘One last question,’ she said. ‘Do you know whether Rebecca was involved in internet dating?’

‘Everybody knew that.’

‘OK, but do you remember hearing her talk about it?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘We’ve heard rumours that she was selling sex on the internet; do you know anything about that?’

Daniella’s cheeks were burning as she looked at Fredrika.

‘No.’

Her voice was subdued, almost a whisper.

‘Daniella, it’s extremely important that you don’t keep any information from us at this stage,’ Cecilia said.

Daniella cleared her throat and looked Cecilia in the eye.

‘I’m not keeping anything from you, because I don’t know anything. OK?’

Fredrika and Cecilia glanced at one another and reached a mutual decision to bring the interview to an end.

‘She’s lying,’ Cecilia said as they were getting in the car.

‘You’re right,’ Fredrika said. ‘The question is why? And what about?’

9

Alex was trying to persuade the pathologist to work faster. He was keen to get on, to move a step closer to a definite identification of the second body discovered in the forest.

‘I’m doing the best I can,’ said the pathologist. ‘I can’t work any faster when the body is this old.’

Alex was ashamed of himself, but thanked his lucky stars that they had known each other for such a long time. Their relationship was purely professional; over the years any personal exchanges had been few and far between. If the pathologist knew that Alex had been widowed, then it was because someone else had told him. Alex himself had never mentioned it.

It’s not because I’ve forgotten you, Lena.