Unspoken (21 page)

“Hello,” said a gruff male voice after the tenth ring.

She introduced herself. “Yes, hi, this is Majvor Jansson, Fanny’s mother. Is Fanny there?”

As she spoke she realized that she didn’t know who she was talking to, or even what the place looked like. Fanny had been working at the stable for over a year, but Majvor had never set foot in the place. Why hadn’t she ever gone to visit? Now she cursed herself as it suddenly became crystal clear to her how little interest she had shown in her daughter. When was the last time she had helped Fanny with her homework? She didn’t dare even think about that.

“No, she’s not here,” replied the man, sounding friendly. “She was here yesterday afternoon. But shouldn’t she be in school right now?”

“She’s not there, and she didn’t come home last night, either.”

Now the man on the phone sounded uneasy. “That’s odd. Wait a minute,” he said, and she heard him put down the receiver, then the sound of voices in the background as he shouted to someone. After a moment he was back.

“No, unfortunately, no one has seen her. I’m sorry.”

A call to the hospital proved equally fruitless.

What about her room? Normally Majvor didn’t go in there, since she and Fanny had a mutual understanding that the room was her private space.

At first glance everything looked the same as usual. The bed was neatly made and a book lay on the nightstand, next to the alarm clock. On the desk was a jumble of pens, several schoolbooks, elastic bands for her hair, scraps of paper, and newspapers. Majvor rummaged among Fanny’s things, pulled out all the dresser drawers, then searched the bookshelf and the closet. She turned everything in the room upside down without finding any note with a message, or an address book or a phone number that might give her a clue about where Fanny had gone.

But hidden under several decorative pillows at the head of the bed she found what were obviously spots of blood on the reverse side of the bedspread. She tore off all the bedclothes. No blood on the sheet or the blanket, but under the bed she found a towel with more traces of blood. She was shaking all over as she punched in the phone number for the police.

As soon as he stepped inside, Knutas felt weighted down. He was glad that Sohlman had come with him. The whole apartment was depressing, with its cramped rooms and dreary colors. It was in a four-story building on Mästergatan in the Höken district, in the north-eastern section of Visby and about half a mile outside the ring wall.

Majvor Jansson’s eyes were red from crying when she opened the door. Since Fanny was not with her father, either, the police were taking the report of her disappearance very seriously. The bloodstains on the bedspread meant that there was reason to suspect an assault or a rape. That’s why the police had decided to do a proper crime scene investigation of the girl’s room. Sohlman immediately got to work.

Knutas noticed a faint smell of liquor on Majvor Jansson’s breath.

“When did you last see Fanny?” he asked when they were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Yesterday morning. We had breakfast together before she left for school. I didn’t have to go to work until five, but she usually goes to the stable after school, so we rarely see each other in the afternoon.”

“How did she seem?”

“Tired. She’s always tired, especially lately. That’s probably because she doesn’t eat properly. She’s awfully thin.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Nothing special. There’s not much to talk about in the morning. She ate toast for breakfast, as usual. Then she left.”

“What was the mood like between the two of you?”

“Same as always,” replied Majvor flatly. At the same time she cast a pleading glance at Knutas, as if he might be able to tell her where her daughter was.

“What did she say when she left?”

“She just said bye.”

“Is anything missing from the apartment? Clothes, a toiletry case, money?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And Fanny didn’t leave a message? You’re sure about that?”

“Yes, I’ve looked high and low.”

“Tell me about Fanny. What’s she like?”

“Well, what can I tell you? What are most kids like at that age? She doesn’t say much, but I don’t think she likes school. She’s started cutting classes a lot. Maybe she’s lonely. I don’t know. She never brings any friends home.”

“Why is that?”

“I have no idea. Maybe she’s shy.”

“Do you ever talk about these problems with your daughter?”

Majvor Jansson seemed disconcerted, as if it had never occurred to her that she was the one responsible for her daughter, and not the other way around.

“It’s not easy to talk about things when you’re a single mother and have to work all the time. I don’t have a husband to support me. I have to do everything myself.”

“I can understand that,” said Knutas sympathetically.

Suddenly she fell apart and buried her face in her hands.

“Shall we take a break?” asked Knutas tactfully.

“No, we might as well get this over with so that you can start looking for her.”

“Have you talked to anyone at her school about why she’s been cutting classes?”

“Yes, a teacher called me. That was just a few days ago. He said that she hadn’t been to his class for several weeks. We talked about the problem, but he seemed to think that she was just tired of school. I told Fanny that she had to go to school, and she promised to do better.”

“Has Fanny mentioned anything new in her life? Someone new that she met?”

“No,” replied Majvor, after giving it some thought. “I don’t think so.”

“Is there anyone in particular that she spends a lot of time with?”

“No, we don’t have a big circle of friends, as they say.”

“What about relatives?”

“My old mother lives at the Eken retirement home, but she’s so out of it that it’s almost impossible to talk to her. And I have a sister who lives in Vibble.”

“Does your sister live alone?”

“No, she’s married and has two children. Well, the son is her husband’s, from a previous marriage.”

“So they’re the only cousins that Fanny has? How old are they?”

“Lena lives in Stockholm. I think she’s thirty-two, and Stefan is forty. He lives here on Gotland, in Gerum. I was hoping that Fanny might have gone to stay with my sister.”

Majvor started sobbing again. Knutas patted her arm.

“Now, now,” he comforted her. “We’re going to do everything we can to find her. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon. Just you wait and see.”

The message on his answering machine was a long one. Emma reported in a cracked, monotone voice that Olle now knew about everything. For the time being she was staying with her friend Viveka. She asked him not to try to contact her, and she promised to call when she could. Johan immediately tracked down Viveka’s phone number, only to be told by Emma’s friend that he needed to respect her wish to be left alone.

It was a form of psychological terror, and he had a hard time coping with it. He played a game of floorball but couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. He went to a movie but left the theater without knowing what the film was about.

On Tuesday evening she called.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asked.

“My whole life has fallen apart. Isn’t that a good enough reason?” she said angrily.

“But I want to help you. I realize that this must be terribly hard for you. And I get so worried if we don’t have any contact.”

“Right now I can’t be responsible for whether you’re worried or not. I have enough to think about.”

“How did he find out?”

“Your text message. You sent it while I was in the shower, and he checked my cell phone.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have texted you on a Sunday. That was stupid.”

“The worst thing is that I still haven’t had a chance to talk to the children. He won’t answer the phone, and he’s turned off the answering machine. I’ve gone over there, but nobody was home. And he took my keys, so I can’t even get into the house.” Her voice broke.

“Take it easy,” he consoled her. “I assume he just has to let off some steam. He’s had a shock. Isn’t there anyone who could talk to him? What about your parents?”

“My parents! Not a chance. Do you know what he did? He called all of our friends and family and told them that I’d found someone else. He even called my grandmother in Lycksele! My parents are really upset with me. I’ve tried to talk to them, but they’re siding with Olle. They can’t understand how I could treat him so badly. And what about the children—why didn’t I think about Sara and Filip? Everybody is against me. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this.”

“Can’t you come here? So you can get away from things?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Should I come over there?” he asked. “I could take some time off.”

“What good would that do? Right now the most important thing is for me to have contact with my children. Do you have any idea what it’s like not to be able to talk to your own children? I told you that I needed two months to think things through, but you refused to respect my wishes. You just couldn’t let me have some time in peace and quiet. You kept calling and pressuring me, even though I told you not to. And now look what’s happened! And it’s all thanks to you, for God’s sake!”

“So this is all my fault? What about you? Don’t you think that you share some of the blame? I didn’t force you into this, did I? You wanted to meet, too.”

“All you can think about is yourself because you don’t have to take anyone else into consideration. But I do. So leave me alone,” she said, and slammed down the phone.

He noted that this was the second time she had done that recently.

That afternoon the real job got started of mapping out Fanny Jansson’s activities during the past few days before she disappeared. The search was carried out on a wide front. The police interviewed everyone who worked at the stable, as well as the few relatives that she had. They visited her school to talk to her classmates and teachers. Their image of Fanny became clearer.

She appeared to be a solitary girl who would turn fifteen on Christmas Eve. Her classmates didn’t think she was interested in being friends with any of them. When they started school together, some of them had tried to get her to join in various activities, but she always declined, and finally they gave up. She always seemed to be in a hurry to get home after school, until she started going to the stable, and then she was in a hurry to go there. No one really had much to say about her. They thought she was probably nice enough, but she never took the initiative to make contact with any of them, and that’s why she had ended up alone. She only had herself to blame. She didn’t seem to care, and that was also a bit irksome. Nothing seemed to bother her.

The teachers described her as quiet but smart—although lately something had changed. She seemed distracted for no obvious reason, and she had become even more withdrawn. At the same time, it wasn’t easy to figure out kids her age. There were so many emotions at play; new patterns emerged, they started talking back, made friends and then dropped them; the boys started using snuff, the girls began wearing makeup and padding their bras, and the hormones practically gushed out of the kids. Irritability and aggression were common, and it wasn’t always easy to keep up with all the mood swings or how a particular student was developing.

Her relatives didn’t have much to say, either. They seldom saw Fanny. Her mother drank and had an unpredictable temperament, which prevented any sort of normal socializing. Of course they realized that it must be a difficult situation for Fanny, but that didn’t mean that they wanted to get involved. They had enough problems of their own, they said dismissively.

Adult responsibility
, thought Knutas.
There is something called normal, decent adult responsibility. Isn’t there any sort of collective feeling among people anymore? Nobody is prepared to deal with a child who goes astray, not even within their own family
.

The neighbors all had the same impression of Fanny: a solitary, modest girl who seemed to carry a heavy responsibility at home. It was commonly known that her mother had a drinking problem.

The last person to see Fanny before she disappeared was a man at the stable. His name was Jan Olsson. According to him, she arrived at the stable around four, as usual, and worked with the horses. She was given permission to take one of them out for a ride. She was gone for about an hour and was elated when she returned. She didn’t get to go out riding very often, so she was thrilled whenever she had the opportunity. Both she and the horse were sweaty, and Jan Olsson said that he suspected she had galloped harder than she really should have. But he didn’t say anything because he felt sorry for the girl and thought she deserved to have a little fun.

When he was taking a cigarette break outside on the stable hill, he saw her pedaling off in the dark, heading toward home. After that there was no trace of the girl.

Knutas decided to go out to the racetrack to meet in person both the trainer who owned the stable and Jan Olsson. By now it was past seven o’clock, and when Knutas called the stable, everyone had left. He tried their home numbers, but no one answered. He would have to wait until first thing in the morning.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28

The trotting track was located about half a mile from the center of town. When Knutas and Jacobsson drove up the stable hill, they came within a hair’s breadth of colliding with a sulky. The huge gelding snorted and swerved to the side. The driver’s admonishing words calmed the horse. Knutas got out of the car and inhaled the smell of horse and manure. He looked toward the racetrack, which was partially hidden in the cold and damp haze. The grandstands were barely visible through the mist.

On both sides of the stable hill stood rows of stables. A solitary horse was jogging around in an enclosure. A steel contraption of some kind was keeping the horse on the path and regulating its pace.

“It’s called a horsewalker,” said Jacobsson when she saw Knutas’s look of puzzlement. “Horses that aren’t going to be taken out riding can still get exercise. They may have an injury or be suffering from a cold or something else that means they shouldn’t be ridden as hard as usual. Ingenious, isn’t it?”