Unspoken (32 page)

She peered through the window but couldn’t see anything unusual. Not a sound. She stood still and waited. She pressed her body against the locked door to hear better. Then the thudding resumed, at a slower beat. It sounded almost halfhearted now.

She needed something to break the window. Her car stood where she had left it, next to Leif’s. In the trunk she found a tire iron. It was now or never. With a crash the glass shattered and fell in like confetti. Jacobsson whispered through the broken window, “Anders, are you there?”

The whimper that came in response indicated that he had been gagged. She leaned down and looked inside. There in the dark she could make out her boss lying on the floor, his hands and feet bound, a rag stuffed in his mouth.

She turned around and looked up at the house. Not a sign of life. She reached inside for the latch and opened the window, cutting her hand on the broken glass. Damn it. She was bleeding, but that didn’t matter. She climbed in.

When she looked into Knutas’s eyes, she had never seen him so helpless. Quickly she started untying the rope that held the gag in place. He gasped when at last he was free.

“Thanks. I’d almost given up hope. I thought I was going to rot in this damn place.”

“Where’s Leif?” asked Jacobsson as she wrestled with the knots that held Knutas’s wrists behind his back.

“I don’t know. How did you happen to come out here?”

“We started getting worried when we didn’t hear from you. But when I got here someone hit me over the head and tied me to a bed inside the house. I managed to get free and came out here looking for you. I heard you thumping.”

“It was Leif.”

Jacobsson paused. “What?”

“I think it was Leif who murdered both Dahlström and Fanny.”

“Are you out of your mind!”

“No, I mean it. I’ll explain later.”

Something in his voice made her realize that it was true.

“Is the car still here?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s parked outside.”

“What about the boat?”

“It’s at the dock.”

“We have to get out of here. We have to get help.”

The door was locked from the outside, so they climbed out the window and ran across the yard to the road.

After they had gone a hundred yards from the house, they heard a deafening boom. They turned around to a sea of fire. The sauna down by the water had exploded into an inferno of flames, building materials, and smoke. They watched the macabre spectacle in silence.

“He blew the whole thing up,” gasped Knutas.

They approached the burning building and saw the flames reflected in the water.

The only thing Knutas could think about was whether Leif was inside.

Neighbors who had heard the explosion came driving up. They had alerted both the police and the fire department. Knutas and Jacobsson were tended to by their colleagues. Knutas managed to convince the medics that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. He at least needed to stay at the scene long enough to see how things developed. Jacobsson felt the same. Finally they agreed to sit inside an ambulance to watch everything going on around them. Uniformed and armed police officers went into the house while others searched the area with dogs. The firefighters fought the blaze down at the dock, and several officers crept inside the boathouse with their guns drawn.
The whole scene is right out of a movie
, thought Knutas.

Gradually the police offices regrouped in the front yard. The firefighters had the fire under control, and now it was just a matter of putting it out completely. They had not yet found Leif Almlöv.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 26

The residential street was quiet and deserted, but inside the houses the Christmas dinner celebrations were fully under way. In some driveways sparklers were burning in the winter darkness, and cars were parked outside the gates.

He paused outside the fence to look at the house. There were lights in all the windows. Advent stars made of straw and wood gave off a gentle glow. In the living room a tall Advent candle in a castiron holder was visible along with two big amaryllis plants. The red flowers bore witness to much careful tending. He saw the family moving about inside. Back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. He knew that they had a dining table in the living room.

He caught a glimpse of Filip playing with a puppy. Did they have a new dog? Not a good sign. Not at all.

He opened the gate. The gravel crunched under his feet. The snow had vanished again, melting away on Christmas Eve. Now a gray haze had settled over the idyllic residential neighborhood in Roma.

He went up to the front porch and saw through the window that Olle had noticed him. Now there was no turning back. He took a deep breath and rang the bell.

EPILOGUE

The chapel stood in a secluded spot near the fishing village of Kovik on the west side of the island, about five miles south of Gnisvärd.

It was built from Gotland limestone, with a single window like a porthole facing the cow pastures, the windswept boathouses, and the sea. The chapel had been dedicated to the memory of the men who had drowned at sea.

Leif Almlöv came from a family of fishermen who for generations had fished the stormy Baltic along Gotland’s coast. That was where he was to be buried, in accordance with his last wishes. Only his immediate family were present.

Knutas sat in the back row of folding chairs that had been set up in the small space. He fixed his eyes on the flower-bedecked coffin in the front of the chapel as he pondered who Leif really was. Or rather, had become.

Everything seemed to have started with Fanny Jansson. Of course Leif had visited the stables on numerous occasions. This was confirmed by his father-in-law, with whom he shared ownership of the horse. That was where he had met the girl.

Then Leif had hired Dahlström to build the sauna out in the country, but the carpenter had discovered what Leif was doing with Fanny. Maybe Dahlström had spent the night there while he was working on the sauna and then saw something that he wasn’t supposed to see.

That was the beginning of the end for everyone involved.

No one had any doubts that Leif was the perpetrator. It was his fingerprints that had been found in Dahlström’s darkroom, in his apartment, and on the murder weapon. His hair and saliva were on Dahlström’s clothes, and on Fanny’s.

Several weeks had now passed since that fateful day out at Gnisvärd, which had ended with Leif perishing in the flames. The reason for the powerful explosion was the cylinders of gas that were kept in the storeroom next to the sauna. They could have blown up the boathouse, too; only a few yards separated the two buildings. A nasty chill spread through Knutas’s body as he thought that his friend of twenty years might have been planning to blow him up. And what about Karin? The thought was inconceivable, but it was just as unbelievable that Leif could have murdered two people.

Leif’s remains had been found in the ashes under the burned-out sauna. Whether he had committed suicide, they would never know. Knutas’s thoughts turned again to Ingrid and the children. What sort of life was in store for them after all this? Was it even possible for them to go on?

And Fanny—she was just a child. Knutas felt a deep sorrow when he thought about the fourteen-year-old girl. She hadn’t even had a chance to begin her adult life. At the same time he was weighed down by feelings of guilt. He wondered how much his friendship with Leif had interfered, and to what extent it had blinded him. He was fully aware that in his position as head of the homicide team, he was ultimately responsible for the investigation.

Outside the chapel the local press had gathered along with a number of curiosity seekers. Knutas declined to answer any questions. He slipped away and stared out at the horizon.

Three seagulls were flying low over the surface of the water. The sea was unusually still, and the new year had begun.

THE END

AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story is entirely a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters in the book and real individuals is unintentional. Occasionally I’ve taken the liberty of changing certain things to suit the narrative. This includes the TV news division of Swedish TV on Gotland, which is very much alive, although in the book it has been closed down so that the responsibility for Gotland was moved to Stockholm. I have done this simply in order to tell the story in my own way. I have the greatest admiration for the existing team in Visby and for Swedish TV’s regional news program Östnytt, which is responsible for covering Gotland in real life.

Any errors that may have slipped into the book are solely my own.

First and foremost, I want to thank my husband, the journalist Cenneth Niklasson, who is my greatest inspiration, my biggest supporter, and my most persistent critic.

Many thanks also to:

Gösta Svensson, former detective superintendent of the Visby police for his invaluable assistance with the police work.

Johan Gardelius and Bo Ekedahl, crime techs, the Visby police.

Martin Csatlos, the forensic medicine laboratory in Solna.

Neng Wanlayaphol, trotting-horse trainer, Visby Racetrack.

Mats Wihlborg, district prosecutor, Visby.

Jenny Ingårda and Eva Waltré, BRIS—Children’s Rights in Society.

Il-nam Kroon, social worker.

Mikaela Säfvenberg, archaeologist and authorized guide, Gotland.

My mother, Kerstin, and my sister Ewa Jungstedt for their assistance on research trips to Gotland.

Tove Wiklander—for her constant positive support during our speed walks.

I would also like to give a warm thank-you to my publisher, Jonas Axelsson, for his faith in me, and to my editor, Ulrika Åkerlund, for all her help with this book.

And to my advance readers for their valuable opinions:

Anna-Maja Persson, journalist, Swedish TV.

Lena Allerstam, journalist, Swedish TV.

Lilian Andersson, editor, Bonniers Educational Books.

Bosse Jungstedt, my brother, and Kerstin Jungstedt, my sister-in-law.

Last, but not least, thanks to my beloved children, Rebecka and Sebastian Jungstedt, for their good humor, love, encouragement, and genuine patience with their mother’s writing.

Älta, July 2004

Mari Jungstedt

About the Author

Mari Jungstedt has worked as a radio and television journalist for fourteen years. This is her second novel in a series set on the island of Gotland off the coast of Sweden. She lives in Stockholm with her family. Her first novel,
Unseen
, and the third novel in the series,
Unknown
, are also published by Corgi.

By Mari Jungstedt

UNSEEN

UNSPOKEN

UNKNOWN

THE KILLER’S ART

THE DEAD OF SUMMER

TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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UNSPOKEN

A CORGI BOOK: 9780552156134
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN: 9781446465813

First published in Great Britain

in 2008 by Doubleday

a division of Transworld Publishers

Corgi edition published 2009

Copyright © Mari Jungstedt 2007

English translation copyright © Tiina Nunnally 2007

Mari Jungstedt has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and

Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Map

Sunday, November 11