The Man Who Watched Women (54 page)

This was a different room. Smaller than the one they had used the first time. No windows. The same grubby pale blue walls as in the corridor. It felt like a cell that was no longer used. Two chairs and a table in the middle, nothing else. Hinde was sitting with his back to her, his hands and feet shackled to the sturdy metal table, which in turn was screwed to the floor. The police would never be allowed to go so far with someone they were holding in custody. The suspect's lawyer would see to that, if nothing else. But there were no lawyers here. This was Lövhaga. And this wasn't a normal interview. The stringent security measures had presumably been something Haraldsson had insisted on if the meeting was to go ahead. She wondered how Hinde had managed to arrange it at such short notice. Sebastian still hadn't received his visiting order. So Hinde must have given Haraldsson something. The thought that Haraldsson might be able to influence the investigation in any way was not a pleasant one.

Hinde remained motionless, in spite of the fact that he must have been aware of her presence in the room by this stage. The only sound came from the shiny chains which clanked as he gently moved his hands.

The guard handed her a small black box with a red button. ‘Panic alarm. I'm just outside. Knock when you're done.' Vanja took the alarm and looked at it with a certain degree of scepticism. The guard smiled. ‘Just to be on the safe side. According to the rules there should actually be two of you. And Haraldsson wants to see you immediately afterwards. He wants a report.'

‘Of course.' She nodded, even though she had no intention of giving Haraldsson anything. Not until she knew more about his role in all this.

The guard closed the door firmly behind him.

Vanja looked once more at Hinde's motionless back. ‘Here I am,' she said.

He replied without turning around: ‘I know.'

Vanja walked around the table, keeping her distance. Met his gaze for the first time. He looked up at her with a friendly smile, as if he were sitting in a restaurant with a cup of coffee rather than shackled to a table in a locked room.

‘I'm so glad you came. Please sit down.' He nodded at the chair opposite.

She ignored him. ‘What do you want?'

‘I don't bite.'

‘What do you want?'

‘A little chat. I don't see women anymore. So if I get the chance, at least I have to try. You would do the same if you were me.'

‘I could never be you.'

‘I'm not as terrible as Sebastian says. There are reasons for everything.'

Vanja took a step closer to him and raised her voice. ‘I'm not here for a little chat. I'm here because you said you had something to tell me. But that seems to have been little more than crap.'

She turned and walked back to the door. Raised her hand to summon the guard.

‘You'll regret it if you do that.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I know who killed those women.'

Vanja lowered her hand and turned to face him. ‘How do you know?'

‘You find things out in here.'

‘Crap.'

‘You know that I know.' For the first time Hinde turned and looked straight at her. ‘You saw it in my eyes the last time you were here.'

Vanja stiffened. Was he just guessing, or had he really seen some kind of reaction from her on her previous visit? Had he sensed the realisation she had only registered as a feeling? If he had, then he was better at reading people than anyone she had ever met. Better and more dangerous.

‘If you knew last time we were here, why didn't you say anything?'

‘I wasn't sure. I am now.'

‘How come?'

‘I spoke to the person in question. He works here. He confessed. He was boasting, actually. He idolises me. Can you imagine?'

‘No. What's his name?'

‘First of all there's something I'd like to know about you. Something personal. Are you more like your mother or your father?'

‘I have no intention of talking about personal matters with you.'

‘It's only a question.'

‘But what kind of a bloody question?'

Vanja walked around him again. He followed her with his eyes. The smile had disappeared. His expression was still friendly, but at the same time horribly intrusive. She could feel him trying to get inside her head. Read her. Examine her.

‘I'm just interested, that's all. I was most like my mother, that's what people said when I was growing up.'

Vanja shook her head. ‘My father, I think. Who's the murderer?'

Hinde looked at her, then closed his eyes. He deliberately moved away in his mind for a second and took a deep breath. Visualised the man. Her father. Tried to see the unbroken genetic line between the man he hated and his daughter, standing here with him in this room. He had to make a decision. Should he tell her? Expose the dirty little secret which was almost too obvious once you knew it? She had his eyes. His restless energy. He wanted nothing more than to take that away from her. Break her down. Defile her. He had to remind himself that slow and steady wins the race.

Planning. Patience. Determination.

The cornerstones.

‘I agree,' he said dreamily, opening his eyes. ‘I think you're most like your father too.'

‘Last chance, then I'm leaving. Give me a name.'

Hinde nodded to himself and leaned forward. ‘I wasn't just winding Sebastian up when I said I wanted to touch you,' he said in a quiet, meaningful voice.

Vanja stood over him, her arms folded. ‘You are never going to touch me.'

‘Perhaps not. But I have something you want. In my experience people are prepared to go quite a long way to get what they want. Wouldn't you agree?'

He opened his right hand, which up to that point had been clenched in a fist. On his palm lay a tiny, neatly folded piece of paper that was no bigger than a thumbnail.

‘Here he is. Just a metre or so away from you.' He smiled at her once more.

Suddenly he bent down with lightning speed and picked up the piece of paper in his mouth. Straightened up and showed her the note, firmly clasped between his front teeth.

‘It will take two seconds to swallow it,' he said through his gritted teeth. ‘Then it will be gone forever, and I won't say another word. Am I still not allowed to touch you?'

Vanja was still standing there with her arms folded, her eyes fixed on the little scrap of paper.

‘Not your breasts. Just your hair,' Hinde went on. ‘That's not such a big sacrifice for you to make, surely?'

He very deliberately opened his left hand and raised it towards her. It lifted a few centimetres before the chain stopped it. His fingers moved urgently, enticingly.

‘Please, Vanja. Put your hair here.'

Vanja didn't know what to do. Could that piece of paper really provide the answer they had been seeking for such a long time? Or was it just a trick? Sebastian had warned her against playing along with Hinde's games, and it was one piece of advice she actually felt inclined to follow.

‘How do I know you're not lying?'

‘I always keep my promises. You will know that if you've done your homework. The choice is yours.'

He gave her a big smile, the note still clearly visible, the fingers of his left hand still beckoning playfully.

Vanja quickly tried to analyse the situation. It was extreme in every way. The risk that the whole thing was a trap was considerable, but at the same time she couldn't help feeling that Hinde was telling the truth. She didn't see how this could lead to a simple hostage situation. Hinde was firmly shackled. She had the panic alarm. The unease she had felt initially was now tempered with a strange curiosity, almost recklessness. If she turned and walked away, she might regret it forever. Because if that little piece of paper between Hinde's teeth was the solution, then it would be worth it. If Hinde was telling the truth, not only would she be saving the lives of future victims, but she would be the one who had succeeded in getting crucial information out of Edward Hinde. All on her own. Just her. Nobody else. That would make Sebastian's presence in the team superfluous from now on. Because if she could solve this case, why would they ever need Sebastian Bergman again?

She moved her left thumb onto the alarm button. It would take a fraction of a second to press it. Perhaps thirty seconds before the guard was in the room. Hinde couldn't move his right hand across to hold her. One hand. She would be able to pull away easily. It might cost her a clump of hair, but she would be able to do it. She would be exposing herself to a comparatively low level of risk for a minute or so.

She decided to play along. She slowly bent forward, keeping as far away as possible from Hinde while allowing him to reach the ends of her hair with his left hand, if he stretched as far as the chains would allow. She heard the metallic rattle just before his fingers touched her blonde hair. She met his eyes. What was it she could see there?

Anticipation?

Happiness?

His fingers gently caressed the soft, silky hair. It was finer than he had imagined. It felt lighter in his hand. He picked up the scent of a fruity shampoo. Leaned forward a fraction so that he could breathe in the aroma. Suddenly he wished that she was the one chained to the table instead of him. Wished he had greater freedom of movement so that he could feel her. Properly. He got more excited than he had expected, and had to struggle to hide his feelings. His mother had also had blonde hair. Longer than Vanja's. But it hadn't been as soft. This hair made him want to pull it. Hard. But he couldn't have everything. Not at the moment.

Planning. Patience. Determination.

This would do for now. Reluctantly he withdrew his hand and spat out the piece of paper, which landed in the middle of the table. His expression was as gentle as he could make it as he looked at her.

‘You see, I do keep my promises.' He leaned back and lowered his hand to show that he was done. Vanja straightened up and grabbed the note. Without unfolding it she headed for the door.

‘See you again, Vanja.'

‘I very much doubt that.' She banged on the door. ‘I'm done here!'

The guard opened the door after a few seconds and she left the little room. Hinde sat there motionless; he could still remember the scent of her.

I always keep my promises, he thought.

See you again, Vanja.

She didn't want to show the guard the note, so asked where the toilets were. The visitors' facilities were one floor up in what seemed to be a purely administrative area. The depressing colours were the same as everywhere else in Lövhaga, but at least the toilets had been cleaned recently.

Vanja sat down on the closed seat and unfolded the piece of paper. There was a name, written in pencil in capital letters: RALPH SVENSSON.

She thought she recognised it. Not the surname, perhaps. But Ralph, with ph at the end. She had read it somewhere. But where? She took out her mobile and rang the person who might know. Billy. He answered almost right away.

‘Hi. Can you check out a name for me? Ralph Svensson. Ralph with a ph. If that's okay?' she added.

‘Did you get the name from Hinde?'

Billy didn't even appear to have heard her final caveat. She could hear him tapping away on the keyboard.

‘He says that's the murderer. I think I recognise it from somewhere.'

‘Me too. Hang on.'

Billy went quiet. The tapping continued. Vanja's fingers drummed a nervous tattoo as she waited for him to come back. The question was how reliable the tip-off would turn out to be, but she couldn't worry about that right now. The priority was to investigate it thoroughly. Find out everything they could about Ralph Svensson. Billy came back. She could hear straight away that he was excited.

‘He's not an employee, but he's on the list of those who have a pass into Lövhaga. He works for a cleaning company, LS Cleaning. We've already checked him out, but there was nothing on him.'

‘Find out all you can. I'll ring from the car. Tell Torkel.'

She ended the call and stood up. Flushed the toilet and washed her hands just to be on the safe side before she left. The guard was standing a short distance away, and immediately tried to attract her attention.

‘All done?'

‘Absolutely. I have to go.'

‘But what about Haraldsson? I've already told him we're on our way.'

‘Tell him he can ring Riksmord if it's important. I'm running late.'

Vanja set off towards what she hoped was the way out. She didn't have time for idiots anymore.