The Disappeared (6 page)

‘I’ve looked very carefully at the list of items the police took away,’ she said. ‘You turned her student room upside down, made a note of which fluoride tablets she used, her preferred brand of tampons. There’s nothing about contraceptive pills.’

Alex came into the room, walked behind Fredrika and read over her shoulder.

‘They made a note of every item of medication found in Rebecca’s room.’

‘Cough medicine, Alvedon, Panodil,’ Fredrika read. ‘Believe me, none of them work as a contraceptive.’

‘Perhaps she’d run out?’ Alex suggested. ‘And because she wasn’t in a relationship, she didn’t renew the prescription?’

‘And when she did have sex after all, they didn’t use any protection. That sounds odd to me, given how careful she had been in the past.’

Fredrika turned to face Alex.

‘I’d like to speak to Diana Trolle again. Ask if she knew where her daughter got her prescription for the pill.’

‘OK. Hopefully, that will enable us to find out when she stopped taking it.’

‘Exactly. And it should give us more information about her pregnancy, at least if she usually had her prescription filled at a clinic. There’s no reason to think that she would go somewhere completely different to discuss her pregnancy.’

‘If she did actually discuss it with anyone.’

Fredrika gathered up the documents on her desk and handed them to Alex.

‘I’ll ring Diana straight away. Then I’m going home. Have you heard anything about Håkan Nilsson from the surveillance team?’

Alex clutched the folders to his chest.

‘Nothing so far. He’s still at work. Peder and I will probably bring him in for a chat this evening.’

Fredrika nodding, trying to remember what Håkan Nilsson had looked like in the pictures she had seen in the files. Pale, thin, a lost look in his eyes. His expression seemed angry in some of the photographs. How angry do you have to be to kill someone, then dismember their body? Put the pieces in plastic bags and bury them? She shuddered. Death was never pretty, but sometimes it was so ugly that it was completely incomprehensible.

Diana Trolle knew exactly where her daughter got her contraceptive pills from: first of all from the youth clinic in Spånga, then later on – when she was too old to go there any more – from the Serafen clinic opposite City Hall.

‘She said a lot of positive things about that place,’ Diana recalled. ‘But I’ve never been there myself.’

Fredrika decided to call in at the clinic on her way home, partly because she felt like a walk, and partly because she was curious.

She tried to phone Spencer as she was leaving work. They had already spoken twice during the day. She could hear from his voice that he was tense, and she wondered if he had taken on too much. If that was the case, she would have to stay at home for a while longer, that was all there was to it. At the same time, she was frightened by the direction her thoughts were taking.

What would happen to Saga if Fredrika died, and Spencer was unable to look after his daughter? Would she go and live with Fredrika’s brother?

No chance. Spencer would never abandon his only daughter, Fredrika was sure of that.

Spencer interrupted her brooding when he finally answered his mobile. Saga was asleep, he informed Fredrika. It was fine if she came home a bit later than they had agreed.

The walk from police headquarters in Kronoberg to the clinic opposite City Hall was short but invigorating. Fredrika decided to go via Hantverkargatan, and enjoyed breathing in the fresh spring air. It always seemed lighter and cleaner than the air at any other time of year. Good for the soul.

The clinic was located on the first floor of the magnificent building that resembled a British stately home; it was right by the water. Fredrika gazed at all the mothers-to-be, sitting in the waiting room with their big bellies, several of them with older children in buggies. How could people cope with more than one child? She just didn’t get it. Neither she nor Spencer wanted any more children; at least that was how they felt at the moment.

‘One is more than enough,’ Spencer had muttered one night when Saga had a cold and kept on waking up over and over again.

Fredrika showed her ID to the nurse on reception and explained why she was there. The nurse hesitated when she asked to see any notes they might have on Rebecca.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said, and returned after a short while with an older colleague.

Fredrika explained the situation again, and the midwife listened attentively. With long fingers she searched through the suspension files in the filing cabinet. She nodded silently to herself as she took one out.

‘I was the one who saw her the last time she was here,’ she said, pointing to a note in the margin. She screwed up her eyes.

‘I see so many women every day, it’s difficult to remember them all.’

You don’t have to remember them all, Fredrika thought. Only this one.

‘But I think I know who you mean,’ the midwife said, much to Fredrika’s relief. ‘She was here to renew her prescription for the pill, but suspected she might be pregnant. She was terribly upset, if I remember rightly.’

‘So what happened?’

‘She was pregnant, of course. I think we worked out she was probably in the third month. She was terrified.’

‘Then what?’

‘She left, saying she was going to get rid of the baby. I have no idea whether she did or not; she never came back.’

Fredrika glanced through the notes.

‘Is there anything else you recall from your meeting with Rebecca?’

‘Only that she seemed anxious. And she asked me whether it was possible to have a termination even if the child’s father might want to keep it.’

Fredrika put down the file.

‘Did she, indeed?’

‘Yes. I thought it was a stupid question. It’s obvious that it’s the woman who decides whether or not she wants to be a mother.’

But it wasn’t obvious, and both Fredrika and the midwife knew it. Fredrika began to feel concerned. Why had Rebecca felt the need to ask the question? Who was the man she suspected would want to keep the child?

‘Håkan Nilsson,’ Alex said when she called him.

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘But?’

‘But that would be too easy.’

‘He’s been in touch with Diana, expressed his condolences and so on. Asked if he could come over.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said no.’

They ended the call, and Alex carried on going through the previous investigation. There was a wealth of material, but hardly any leads.

A young woman, expected at a party at the university, leaves home and gets on a bus travelling in completely the opposite direction. Secretly four months pregnant, possibly afraid that a termination will antagonise the child’s father. Did that mean she had told him about the baby?

Where were you going that evening, Rebecca?

Peder appeared in the doorway; he came in and sat down. He had spent a considerable amount of time speaking to Rebecca’s closest friends on the phone, and to her father and brother.

‘I’ve given Ellen a list of the people you highlighted in the investigation into Rebecca’s disappearance,’ Peder said. ‘I’ve asked her to check the names against our records to see if they’ve been mixed up in anything suspect since then.’

‘Good,’ Alex said. ‘And what about the interviews you and the other investigators have conducted so far – anything there?’

‘Maybe,’ Peder replied, chewing on a fingernail.

Alex gave him an encouraging look.

‘Not long after Rebecca went missing, there was a rumour that she had been selling sexual services on the Internet.’

‘We heard the same thing from her mother,’ Alex said. ‘A friend had told her.’

‘We’ll have to follow it up, but I don’t believe it.’

‘Me neither.’

‘I also heard something else that sounded more credible. Did you speak to her ex-girlfriend?’

‘Several times. Why?’

‘According to the gossip, she never got over the fact that Rebecca had dumped her, or that Rebecca regarded her as an experiment.’

Alex rubbed his hands together; it was something he often did when he was distracted, or when he was thinking. Scarred hands that had been burned, then healed. A constant memory of a case that ended in chaos, a case that had troubled their consciences for a long time.

‘There were certain indications that the ex wasn’t quite as she should be,’ Alex said. ‘She’d been in a youth psychiatric unit when she was younger; I think she’d been diagnosed as bi-polar.’

‘Any violent tendencies?’

‘Not as far as we know.’

‘We ought to check her out anyway.’

‘I agree,’ Alex said. ‘However, there is one thing I think we can be absolutely sure of.’

Peder waited.

‘She can’t possibly be the father of the child Rebecca was expecting.’

Peder grinned.

‘No, but Håkan Nilsson could have been.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘One of Rebecca’s female friends had some fairly unpleasant things to say about him. Apparently, Rebecca thought he was a real nuisance; he didn’t seem to realise they weren’t such close friends any more.’

‘In that case I think we need to have a chat with him,’ Alex said.

Peder worked late that day. He called home to let Ylva know he would be missing dinner. It was a conversation that would have triggered a huge row two years ago, but now she accepted it calmly. He and Ylva had sorted all that out when they decided not to get a divorce, but to move back in together and try again. Perhaps ‘sorted out’ was putting it too simply; the road back had been long, with many painful upsets along the way. Ylva needed time to forgive, to learn to trust him again. He also needed time to forgive himself. For all the damage he had caused. All the responsibility he had failed to accept.

The counsellor said they had to stop arguing about problems that couldn’t be solved. Peder’s job was never going to change, unless he went and did something else. However, he could try to negotiate with his employer for better terms when it came to time off in lieu, which he had done.

The reconciliation with Ylva had done him good. He had slowly begun to find his way back to the feeling of fulfilment he had enjoyed during the early years with her, when he had just joined the police and everything was going well. The birth of his twin boys had ruined everything, wrecked any attempt at a normal family life, because Ylva had suffered from serious postnatal depression. Her longing for children had turned into despair and insecurity. Peder had been unfaithful to his wife for the first time, and from then on he was caught in a downward spiral with no apparent end.

The fact that the end was not apparent did not mean it didn’t exist. It came the day he was called in to see the head of HR, and was sent on an equality course and for a programme of counselling. He had hated that old witch, punishing him for things he hadn’t done. He had hated her until the news about Alex’s wife and how ill she was became common knowledge at work, and at the same time Fredrika’s lover was involved in a serious car accident. It was as if Peder was able to gain some perspective on his own troubles, and at some point things turned around. And they had got better and better.

Peder and Alex wondered whether to bring in Håkan Nilsson right away, or wait until the following day. The prosecutor made it clear that they would be unable to hold him; the evidence was too weak and mostly circumstantial. However, they could certainly bring him in for questioning.

Peder went with a uniformed patrol to pick him up. It was almost half past five, and he was hungry. They stopped off briefly at a fast food kiosk, then carried on.

Håkan Nilsson opened the door after the second ring. It was obvious that he had been crying, and Peder felt something akin to contempt.

‘Håkan Nilsson? May we come in?’

Peder briefly outlined the reason for their visit. No doubt Håkan had heard that Rebecca’s body had been found; would he mind coming along to the police station for a short interview? Oh, no, he was no more of a suspect than anyone else, but they would like a chat with him, mainly so that they could eliminate him from their inquiries; he had been so helpful in the past.

Håkan wasn’t as easily manipulated as Peder had expected. He asked a number of questions, mainly about what had happened when they found Rebecca. What had she looked like? How had she died? He didn’t get any answers.

Eventually he agreed to accompany them, and they drove back to Kungsholmen. Alex and Peder conducted the interview together.

‘Could you tell us how you and Rebecca knew each other?’

‘You know that already.’

Alex looked amused.

‘I do,’ he said, ‘but Peder doesn’t. He’s not as familiar with Rebecca’s case as I am.’

‘We were at school together, that’s how we became friends.’

‘Were you more than friends?’

Håkan blushed.

‘No.’

‘But you would have liked to have been?’

‘No.’

‘OK,’ Peder said. ‘What did you usually do when you met up?’

Håkan shrugged his narrow shoulders.

‘We just used to hang out. Have a coffee, watch TV.’

‘How often did you see each other?’

‘Now and again.’

‘Could you be more precise?’

‘Once a week, maybe. Sometimes less often.’

Peder glanced down at his notebook.

‘How did you feel when she went off to study in France?’

Håkan looked tired.

‘I was disappointed.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought we were closer friends than that. It wasn’t so much that she went away, but that she didn’t tell me beforehand.’

Alex looked surprised.

‘She left without saying a word?’

‘No, no. Well, almost. She told me a week before she went, something like that.’

Håkan shifted on his chair.

‘But we sorted all that out,’ he went on. ‘There was no animosity between us.’

Alex gazed at him, frowning.

‘You were a great support to the police when she went missing.’

‘It was important to me to help out,’ Håkan said.

‘Did she mean a lot to you?’ Peder asked.

Håkan nodded. ‘I didn’t have all that many friends.’