The Intruder (13 page)

The alarm monitored that the outside door was closed and locked; four motion detectors let you know if someone was trying to get into the house any other way. Malin had sketched the floor plan and the locksmith determined that four should be enough. If more were needed it was easy to add on. They had bought a video surveillance system with three cameras that were also controlled by motion detectors. When the cameras were activated they sent images to the alarm’s own hard drive and to one or more cell phones. You programmed the numbers yourself into the server, which should be concealed in a wardrobe or cabinet, preferably on the top floor. The locksmith had demonstrated it in the store. It was like science fiction, but just as easy as changing channels on the TV.

Malin placed her right hand on Henrik’s thigh and ran her fingers along the inner seam of his jeans. There was an odor of newsprint from the newspapers that Henrik bought while they were there. They were in a thick pile alongside the plastic bags with the parts for the alarm.

Henrik leaned over and bit her lightly on the neck while he quickly touched her breasts. A little flash of heat fired off from her abdomen down between her legs. For the first time since she came home from vacation she was really turned on.

First the alarm, she thought. Henrik stroked his index finger against her nipple. Malin’s cell phone rang. She reached for her bag in the backseat and Henrik sank slowly back in the seat with a vague sigh.

“Yes, Malin,” she answered.

It was from the school, Ellen’s classroom teacher Anita Frisk. Anita got caught up in a detailed account of what the children had done during the lunch break, which finally ended in a question.

“You didn’t happen to pick Ellen up early today?”

Malin had a hard time understanding exactly what she meant.

“No, we haven’t picked her up,” she said, making a face to herself. “Why do you ask?”

It was only when she looked up at Henrik and saw his worried facial expression that it occurred to her what the teacher’s veiled question actually meant. Could mean.

“What is it?” whispered Henrik.

“What do you mean? Isn’t Ellen there?” asked Malin.

“She didn’t come into class after lunch.”

Anita Frisk’s voice sounded wobbly, but it could be poor coverage.

“Didn’t come in? What do you mean, is she gone?”

Malin held Henrik’s gaze firmly. He sat rigidly in the seat beside her.

“Yes, that is, we went out and looked in the schoolyard, but she wasn’t there and nowhere in the school, either. So then we thought that—”

“But good Lord, what time is it now?”

Malin looked at the instrument panel. Twelve thirty.

“When did lunch break end?”

“Ten after twelve,” said Anita.

“Ten after twelve. That’s twenty minutes ago. Twenty minutes. Why haven’t you called?”

Her voice was shrill. She was almost crying.

“Why the hell haven’t you called?”

“We’ve been searching and talking with the children who were with her at lunch.…”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. My daughter is missing and you only call me after twenty minutes. Don’t you understand how serious this is?”

Malin had leaned forward in the seat so that the belt was taut. She stared out the windshield at the blue sky, but saw only one thing. The family portrait where Ellen’s eyes had been replaced by two gaping holes. She felt sick.

“What’s going on?” Henrik hissed beside her.

“Malin, I’m happy to talk about what we ought to have done and when,” said Anita. “But right now it’s probably better if we concentrate on finding Ellen.”

A devastating wave of nausea almost paralyzed Malin. She wanted to kick and scream, but could not move. Fucking idiot. Fucking Anita Frisk. Then it subsided.

“Have you called the police?” she asked.

“No, we called you first. We thought she might be with you.”

“I’ll call the police. You have to go over to the day care and make sure that Axel is there. We’ve received threats. I haven’t said anything about it, but we have been subjected to threats and this may—”

She was not able to say the last words.

“We’ve already been there,” said Anita Frisk. “We thought that Ellen might have gone there, but she didn’t.”

“I’ll call the police,” Malin repeated. “We’re on our way. We’re on the ferry now, in the wrong direction. We’re on our way. Call if there’s anything.”

Then she ended the call without saying good-bye.

“What is it?” said Henrik, looking worriedly at her.

“Ellen is gone. She didn’t come in after lunch break.”

Malin held up the cell phone and tried to enter 911.

“Has something happened? What do you mean, gone?”

“I don’t know. No, nothing has happened. Not that anyone knows anyway. She’s just gone. I’m calling the police now.”

Henrik sat mute while she tapped on the green phone.

“What did they say about Axel?”

“He’s there. They were in the day care searching for Ellen. We have to go there.”

She turned around and looked up toward the bridge of the ferry, which was elevated on a frame above the car deck.

“We have to get them to turn around.”

“We’re already there,” said Henrik.

The ferry rocked as they made contact with the pier. Malin dropped the phone, which slipped in under the pedals. She leaned over between her own legs, turned double to get at it, but the seat belt made it difficult.

“Damn it shit shit shit,” she screamed and sobbed.

Then she got loose—Henrik must have undone the seat belt for her—and she could pick up the phone. The call had been interrupted. She entered the number again and pressed
SEND
, put the cell phone to her ear.

The gate opened with a buzzing sound and the signal for their lane was green. Malin moved the cell phone to her left hand and tried to turn the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. The car just stood there.

“But what the hell,” she whined.

Henrik reached out a hand. He wanted to take over the call. Malin waved his hand away and fussed with the key until she saw that the gear selector was in drive. She must have moved it without thinking about it.

The cars behind them were honking and she wanted to rush out and scream at them that her daughter was missing, kick the cars and scream at them to go to hell with their fucking worries about not getting off the ferry fast enough.

Everything collapsed and the whole time four pairs of eyes were staring at her. Four pairs of eyes that were not eyes but holes in a photograph.

20.

It was silent in the car. Gustav was driving, Sara sat beside him, and Fredrik was in the backseat. He looked out through the side window at the sun-drenched landscape rolling past. The same trip he and Sara had made three days earlier, minus the last bit on Fårö. That time it had concerned something small that might have been almost nothing. Now it concerned something big that could prove to be the worst imaginable.

Had they taken the threats against the family too lightly? Fredrik would answer that they had done what they could with the information that Malin Andersson and Henrik Kjellander had provided. They had questioned Henrik’s half sisters on Fårö. They had checked out the tenants. And these were good answers, not bad excuses. Even so he could not help thinking that they should have done more.

“It’s been such a short time.” Sara broke the silence. “It can be just about anything, that she had a falling out with one of her classmates and ran away.”

Fredrik hummed in response. Gustav remained silent behind the wheel. Of course she might be right, but Fredrik was certain that they were all mentally preparing themselves that they were on their way to a catastrophe. He had not met Ellen, only seen a picture of her, and it had lacked eyes. Even so he could easily visualize her. She was playing in the sand at Norsta Auren. His imagination even added a look full of life and delight. He tried to hold onto those thoughts. They might as well remain there on the idyllic sandy beach, not rush off to something else, something terrible.

He was feeling very ill at ease, and quite selfishly he hoped to be spared that. He hoped that he would not be the one who had to stand before a dead seven-year-old in a forest clearing somewhere, if it turned out badly after all. That he would not be the one who would have to sit with the devastated parents and with his awkward sympathy coax out information in a situation that was completely inhuman.

But he would not be spared, he knew that. It was his job. Taking care of it. Managing it. Coping.

He tried to concentrate on the view, more or less like a carsick person who fixes his gaze on the horizon.

He was not normally pursued by unpleasant thoughts like this. Not when he was on his way to a crime scene. He could usually concentrate on the task, keep his head cold and close out his emotions until later. But this time it was clearly different. Or was it simply that he had become a different person?

Gustav looked grimly resolute behind the wheel. Were his thoughts moving along the same lines as Fredrik’s?

Sara looked at her watch, took her cell phone out of her pocket, tapped on it a while, but then put it away again.

“Is Micke coming over the weekend?” Fredrik asked.

“Yes,” she said, turning away.

Fredrik sensed the trace of a contented smile. Sara was the secretive type where her personal life was concerned. There was a guy in Stockholm she had met last Christmas. That was basically all he knew.

“I was thinking about whether I should phone, but it’s probably a little too soon.”

“Wait on that,” said Fredrik. “He won’t be getting here until late, right?”

“No, the twelve-twenty boat,” she said.

“All right,” said Fredrik. “Then there’s no problem.”

But of course there was. If the worst had happened. If the girl was dead.

21.

“What car are you talking about? Do you mean someone saw Ellen drive off in a car?”

Malin was staring at Anita Frisk.

“No, a girl in the class said she saw a car stop in front of the school right before the bell rang.”

Ellen’s teacher brushed aside the silky blond hair from her face with a trembling hand. She was short and slender, small even compared with Malin. How could this little person protect a whole class of seven-year-olds from all the dangers that were lurking out in the world?

Malin had never thought along those lines before, but now when she did it seemed completely absurd. The women with whom she entrusted her children did not have a chance. And the school itself. It just sat there completely open with its playground where the children ran free as if nothing bad could happen to them. It was only a matter of stepping in and stealing a child. As easy as anything. There should be walls and guards.

“So who, who saw the car?” she asked, taking hold of Anita’s arm.

Malin had a definite feeling that more than anything Anita would like to slip away from there. Leave her in the ugly room in the school office that smelled of throat lozenges and body odor.

“It was Matilda, but…”

“I want to speak with her.”

“Of course you can speak with her, but…”

“I have to speak with her now,” said Malin, squeezing Anita’s arm.

Anita brushed back her hair again and shaded her eyes.

“I’ll get her,” she said curtly. “Wait here.”

She stopped in the doorway. The glow from a fluorescent light in the corridor ceiling outlined a long dark shadow under her nose.

“Just take it easy with her. She saw a car. That’s all. The children…”

“What the hell have they been doing here?” Malin burst out to Henrik as soon as the door had closed behind the teacher.

Soon they would probably appoint a crisis committee to take care of the children who were left. Perhaps this was more important than calling the police when her daughter disappeared.

“I can’t just stand here staring,” Malin continued before Henrik could answer. “I’ll take the car and go out and search.”

Henrik came closer, put his arm around her back.

“They didn’t know,” he said.

“No, but they know now. Even so, they’re like sleepwalkers.”

She backed out of his embrace and shook her fists in front of his face.

“Our child is gone. Isn’t there anyone who can do anything? Who at least can pretend like it means something?”

How could they have been so dense that they left the children out of sight even for a second after what she found in the mail this morning? She ought to be shot. She thought it was good for the children that everything was normal, thought they would be safe in school, that it was the house in Kalbjerga that was the target. She could not imagine that anyone would go after the children.

She sobbed, but took a deep breath and snuffled back the crying attack before it had time to start. This was not the right moment to be weak.

22.

“If Ellen were to have gone off by herself somewhere, where might she have gone? Can you imagine any place? Any place where she feels at home?”

Fredrik Broman looked seriously at Malin and Henrik.

If she had gone off by herself? Why was he even asking that? thought Malin. Nothing had happened that would have made Ellen run away from the school. No trouble. They had already gone through all of this. Actually she felt confidence in Fredrik Broman, in Sara Oskarsson, too, but right now it was as if everything around her was wrong.

“We don’t spend much time in Fårösund. Ellen has a couple of friends here, but they’re in school now.”

Malin threw out her hand toward the building behind them.

She had to exert herself not to sound angry and hostile. That was important. She could not get on the wrong side of the police. They had to like her. They had to want to do their utmost when they were searching for Ellen. Her life might depend on it. That little extra effort. The second that determined everything.

“No classmate who’s home sick?” asked Fredrik.

Malin looked quickly at Anita, who shook her head.