The Drowning (32 page)

‘They … they …’ Her teeth were chattering, and Gösta squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Martin was standing in the doorway.

‘It’s paint,’ he told Martin. Then he looked again at Sanna. She took a deep breath and made another attempt to speak.

‘Nils was calling for me. He was sitting up in bed. This … this is how they looked. Somebody had written on the wall, and some of the paint must have spattered on to their beds. I thought it was blood.’

‘But you and Christian didn’t hear anything during the night? Or this morning?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘Where is the children’s room?’ asked Gösta.

Sanna pointed out into the hall.

‘I’ll go take a look,’ said Martin, turning around to leave.

‘I’ll come too.’ Gösta forced Sanna to meet his gaze before he stood up. ‘We’ll be right back. Okay?’

She nodded. Gösta stood up and went out into the hall. From the children’s room he could hear loud voices.

‘Christian, put that down.’

‘I have to get this off …’ Christian sounded just as confused as Sanna, and when Gösta entered the room he saw him holding a big bucket of water, ready to toss the contents at the wall.

‘We need to have a look at it first.’ Martin held up his hand towards Christian, who wore only his underwear. On his chest were red flecks of paint that he’d no doubt acquired when he helped Sanna carry the boys to the bathroom.

Now he made an attempt to throw the water at the wall, but Martin leaped forward and grabbed the bucket. Christian offered no resistance. He let go of the handle and just stood there, swaying slightly.

With Christian under control Gösta could concentrate on what he’d been trying to wash away. On the wall above the boys’ beds someone had written:
You don’t deserve them
.

The red paint had dripped down from the letters, which looked as if they’d been written in blood. The same impression was made by the paint on the children’s bed. Gösta now understood the extent of the shock that Sanna must have had when she came into the room. And he also understood Christian’s reaction. His face was now expressionless as he stared at the words on the wall, but he was muttering to himself. Gösta moved a little closer to hear what he was saying.

‘I don’t deserve them. I don’t deserve them.’

Gösta cautiously took him by the arm. ‘Go and put on some clothes, Christian, and then we’ll talk.’ Gently but firmly Gösta ushered him out the door and over to the room that he had noticed belonged to Christian and Sanna.

Christian followed obediently, but then he just sat down on the bed, without making any attempt to get dressed. Gösta looked around until he found a bathrobe hanging from a hook behind the door. He handed the robe to Christian, who put it on, his movements listless and slow.

‘I need to have another look at Sanna and the children. Then we’ll go down to the kitchen and talk.’

Christian nodded. His eyes were vacant and glassy. Gösta left him sitting on the bed and went back to find Martin, who was still in the children’s room.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Gösta asked.

Martin shook his head. ‘This is sick. Whoever did this must be insane. And what does it mean? “You don’t deserve them.” Deserve what? The children?’

‘That’s what we need to find out. Patrik and Paula should be here any minute. Could you go downstairs and
let them in? And phone for a doctor too. I don’t think the kids are hurt, but the whole family has received a bad shock. It’s probably best to have a doctor look at them. I’m going to help Sanna get the paint washed off of the boys. She’s scrubbing so hard that she’s going to flay the skin off them.’

‘We need to get the crime techs out here too.’

‘Exactly. As soon as Patrik gets here, ask him to contact Torbjörn ASAP so they’ll send over a team. And we should try not to walk around in here any more than we have to.’

‘At least we managed to save the wall,’ said Martin.

‘Yes. That was damn lucky.’

They went downstairs together, and Gösta quickly managed to locate the door that led down to the basement. Only a bare bulb lit the stairs, so he descended cautiously. Like most people’s basements, the one belonging to the Thydell family was filled with all sorts of junk: cardboard boxes, discarded toys, containers labelled ‘Christmas decorations’, tools that didn’t look as if they were used very often, and a shelf holding painting equipment: cans, bottles, brushes, and rags. Gösta reached for a bottle half-filled with white spirit, but the moment his fingers closed around the bottle, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A rag was lying on the floor. Spattered with red paint.

He quickly scanned the tins of paint on the shelf. None of them held red paint. But Gösta was positive that the red colour on the rag was the same as he’d seen in the boys’ room. Whoever had painted those words on the wall must have brought the paint along and then come down here to wash up. He looked at the bottle he was holding. Shit. It might have fingerprints on it. But he needed the white spirit. The boys had to have the paint removed from their skin so they could get out of the bath.
An empty cola bottle solved the problem. Without changing his grip on the bottle of white spirit, he poured the contents into the plastic bottle and then set it back on the shelf. If he was lucky, he hadn’t ruined all the prints. And the rag might also give them something to go on.

Carrying the cola bottle, Gösta went back upstairs. Patrik and Paula hadn’t yet arrived, but they couldn’t be far away.

Sanna was still stubbornly scrubbing her sons when he came into the bathroom. The boys were crying desperately. Gösta squatted down next to the tub and said gently:

‘You’re not going to get the paint off just by scrubbing with soap. We need to use white spirit.’ He held up the bottle that he’d brought from the basement. Sanna stopped what she was doing and stared at him. Gösta took a hand towel from a hook next to the sink and poured some of the fluid on to the cloth as Sanna watched. He held up the towel to show it to her and then took hold of the older boy’s arm. There was no use trying to calm them down right now. He just had to work fast.

‘See? The paint comes right off.’ Even though the boy was wriggling like a worm, Gösta managed to wipe off a good deal of the paint. ‘This is what we need to do.’

He realized that he was speaking to Sanna as if she were a child, but it seemed to work because she was starting to look less and less distraught.

‘Okay. So he’s done now.’ Gösta put down the towel and picked up the handheld shower to rinse the solvent off the boy’s body. The child began wildly kicking when Gösta lifted him out of the tub, but Sanna reacted by swiftly wrapping her son in a bathrobe. She pulled him on to her lap and rocked him as she held him close.

‘Okay, little guy. Now it’s your turn.’

The younger boy seemed to understand that if he let
the policeman wash him off, he’d be allowed out of the bathtub and could sit on his mother’s lap. He abruptly stopped crying and sat perfectly still as Gösta poured more white spirit on the towel and then began wiping off the paint. Soon he too was only a faint shade of pink, and he was allowed to sit on Sanna’s lap, wrapped from head to toe in a big bath towel.

From downstairs Gösta could now hear voices and then footsteps approaching. Patrik appeared in the doorway.

‘What happened?’ he asked, out of breath. ‘Is everybody okay? Martin said the children didn’t seem to be hurt.’ Patrik’s eyes were fixed on the bathtub filled with crimson water.

‘The kids are fine. Just a little shocked. Like their parents.’ Gösta stood up and went out into the hall with Patrik. Briefly he told his colleague what had happened.

‘This is crazy. Who would do such a thing?’

‘Martin and I said the same thing. Something isn’t right, and that’s putting it mildly. I think Christian knows more than he’s telling us.’ He repeated what he’d heard Christian mumbling.

‘I agree,’ said Patrik. ‘I’ve had that feeling for a while now. Where is he?’

‘In the bedroom. We need to see if he’s in okay shape so we can have a talk with him.’

‘I reckon it’s high time we did just that.’

Patrik’s mobile rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered. Then he gave a start.

‘What did you say? Can you repeat that?’ He glanced at Gösta, a look of dismay on his face. Gösta tried in vain to hear what the other person was saying. ‘Okay. Understood. We’re over at the Thydell home. Something has happened here too, but we’ll deal with it.’

He ended the call.

‘Kenneth Bengtsson has been taken to the Uddevalla
hospital. He was out running this morning, and someone had set a trap for him. A cord that tripped him so he fell headlong on to a bed of broken glass.’

‘Good God,’ whispered Gösta. And for the second time that morning, he said, ‘What the hell is going on here?’

Erik stared at his mobile phone. Kenneth was on his way to the hospital. Dutiful as ever, he had persuaded the ambulance medics to ring the office to say that he couldn’t make it to work.

Somebody had set a trap that he was bound to encounter on his run. Erik didn’t even consider the possibility that it could be a mistake, a practical joke that had gone too far. Kenneth always took the same route every morning. Everyone in the area knew that, and anyone else could have found out. So there was no doubt that somebody wanted to harm Kenneth. Which meant that he too was in danger.

This was getting out of hand. Over the years Erik had taken many risks and stepped on plenty of people along the way. But he never would have foreseen something like this, or the terror that he now felt.

He turned to his computer and logged on to his bank’s web site. He needed to get an idea of the possibilities open to him. Thoughts were whirling through his mind, but he tried to focus on the amounts in his bank accounts so as to channel his fear into a plan, a means of escape. For a moment he allowed himself to ponder who could have sent those letters and most likely murdered Magnus. Evidently that person had now shifted attention to Kenneth. At least for the moment. Then Erik pushed those thoughts aside. It would serve no useful purpose to keep speculating. It could be anybody. Right now he had to save his own skin, take what funds he could and
leave the country for some warmer place where no one could touch him. And stay there until this whole thing had blown over.

Of course he would miss the girls while he was away. But they were older now, and maybe it would make Louise pull herself together if she had the primary responsibility for their daughters instead of being able to lean on him. And he wouldn’t be leaving them with nothing. He would see to it that they had enough money in the bank to live on for quite a while. But Louise would have to get a job. It would do her good. After all, she couldn’t very well expect him to support her for the rest of her life. He had every right to do this, and the money that he’d saved up over the years would be sufficient to create a whole new life for himself. And keep him safe.

He had the situation under control; all he needed to do was take care of a few practical matters. For one thing, he needed to talk to Kenneth. Erik decided to go to the hospital in the morning and hope that his colleague would be feeling well enough to review some figures. Of course it was going to be hard on Kenneth, having to leave the company so soon after Lisbet’s death, and no doubt there would be some tiresome repercussions. But Kenneth was a big boy now, and maybe Erik was actually doing him a favour by forcing him to stand on his own two feet. The more he thought about it, this was bound to be good for both Louise and Kenneth, since he would no longer be available to hold their hands.

Then there was Cecilia. But she had already told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t need his help, other than financially. And he should be able to set aside a small sum for her.

So that’s what he would do. Cecilia could take care of herself; they could all take care of themselves. And the
girls would probably understand. Over time they would understand.

It had taken a long time to remove all the pieces of glass. Two still remained. They were so deeply embedded that it would take a more serious procedure to get them out. But everyone said that he’d been extremely lucky. The glass had missed the major arteries. Otherwise things could have gone very badly. That was exactly what the doctor had so cheerfully told him.

Kenneth turned his face to the wall. Didn’t they understand that this was as bad as it could get? If he’d had his way, the glass would have sliced through one of his arteries, cutting off the pain and taking away the evil in his heart. Purging the evil memory. Because in the ambulance, while the sirens wailed in his ears and he grimaced at every jolt as the vehicle roared along at high speed, he had suddenly understood. And he knew who it was that was hunting them. Who hated all of them and wanted to harm both him and the others. And who had taken Lisbet from him. The idea that his wife had died with the truth ringing in her ears was more than he could bear.

He looked down at his arms resting on top of the blanket. They were covered with bandages. His legs were too. He had run his last marathon. The doctor said that it would be a miracle if his wounds healed properly. But that didn’t matter now. He had no desire to do any more running.

He had no intention of running away from her either. She had already taken what mattered most to him. The rest was unimportant. There was some sort of biblical justice that was impossible to combat. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Kenneth closed his eyes and saw the images that he had banished to a far corner of his memory. After so many
years, it was as if it had never even happened. Only once had the memories resurfaced. That was on that midsummer day when the whole thing had nearly fallen apart. But the walls had held, and he had suppressed those images once again, storing them away in the darkest recesses of his brain.

Now they were back. She had brought them out into the light, forcing him to look at them. And he couldn’t stand what he saw. Above all, he couldn’t bear knowing that this had been the last thing Lisbet had heard. Had it changed everything? Had she died with a black hole in her heart where her love had once been? Had he become a stranger to her at that moment?