Buried Angels. Camilla Lackberg
‘This is my chance to find out what happened,’ said Ebba.
‘Maybe we could sit down somewhere and have a little talk.’ Patrik backed away from the section of the floor that had been removed, but what he’d seen was already burned into his memory. For his part, he was convinced that it was blood. A thick layer of congealed blood, no longer red but dark with age. If his theory was right, it had to be more than thirty years old.
‘We can sit in the kitchen, that’s nice and neat,’ said Tobias, making a move to show Patrik the way. Ebba stayed where she was, along with Gösta.
‘Are you coming?’ Tobias turned to his wife.
‘You go ahead. Ebba and I will join you in a minute,’ said Gösta.
Patrik was about to say that it was Ebba, above all, that they needed to talk to. But he glanced at her pale face and realized Gösta was right. She could use a moment to herself, and there was really no hurry.
Describing the kitchen as nice and neat proved to be an overstatement. Tools and paintbrushes were scattered everywhere, and the worktop was hidden beneath piles of dirty dishes and the remains of breakfast.
Tobias sat down at the kitchen table.
‘We’re actually neat-freaks, Ebba and I. Or rather, we were,’ he corrected himself. ‘Hard to believe when you see things in this state, isn’t it?’
‘Renovating is hell,’ said Patrik, sitting down on a chair after first brushing off a few breadcrumbs.
‘It doesn’t seem so important to keep everything neat and clean any more.’ Tobias looked towards the kitchen window. It was covered with dust, as if a veil had been drawn across it to hide the view.
‘What do you know about Ebba’s past?’ asked Patrik.
He could hear Gösta and Ebba talking in the dining room, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying, although he tried. Gösta’s behaviour surprised him. Back at the station, when he had dashed into Gösta’s office to tell him what had happened, his colleague’s reaction had also seemed completely out of character. But then Gösta had closed up like a clam, remaining silent all the way out to Valö.
‘My parents and Ebba’s adoptive parents are good friends, and what happened in her past has never been a secret. So I’ve known for a long time that her family disappeared without a trace. I don’t think there’s much more to know, is there?’
‘No. The police didn’t make any progress with their investigation, despite putting in a lot of time and energy. It remains a mystery why they simply disappeared.’
‘But maybe they’ve been here the whole time.’ Ebba’s voice made them both jump.
‘I don’t think they’re lying under the floor,’ said Gösta, pausing in the doorway. ‘If someone had damaged the floorboards in any way, we would have noticed. The planks were completely untouched, and there was no trace of blood either. It must have seeped in between the boards.’
‘Well, I want to know for sure that they’re not under there,’ said Ebba.
‘The techs will inspect every millimetre when they get here tomorrow. You can be sure of that,’ said Gösta, putting his arm around Ebba.
Patrik stared. Normally when they were out on a job, Gösta made very little effort. And Patrik couldn’t recall ever seeing him touch another person.
‘Right now you need some strong coffee.’ Gösta gave Ebba a pat on the shoulder and went to turn on the coffee maker. As the coffee began dripping into the pot, he stood at the sink and washed a few cups.
‘Why don’t you tell us what you know about what happened here.’ Patrik pulled out a chair for Ebba.
She sat down, and he was struck by how thin she was. Her T-shirt seemed much too big, and her collarbone was clearly visible under the fabric.
‘I don’t think I can tell you anything that people around here haven’t already heard. I was barely a year old at the time, so I don’t remember. And my adoptive parents know only that someone called the police to report that something had happened. When the police arrived, my family were nowhere to be seen, and I was here all alone. This was on the evening before Easter. That’s when they disappeared.’ She pulled out the pendant that was hidden under her T-shirt and began tugging on it, just as Patrik had noticed her doing the day before. It made her seem even more fragile.
‘Here.’ Gösta set a cup of coffee in front of Ebba, and poured one for himself before sitting down. Patrik couldn’t help smiling. Gösta was his old self again.
‘How about some coffee for the rest of us?’
‘Do I look like a waiter?’
Tobias got up. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Is it true that you were left all alone when your family disappeared? That you had no living relatives?’ asked Patrik.
Ebba nodded.
‘Yes. My mother had no brothers or sisters, and my maternal grandmother died before I turned one. My father was much older, and his parents had died long ago. The only family I have is my adoptive family. And in one sense, I’ve been very lucky. Berit and Sture have always made me feel like their very own daughter.’
‘There were a few boys from the school who were staying here over the Easter holiday. Have you ever been in contact with any of them?’
‘No, why would I do that?’ Ebba’s eyes looked huge in her thin face.
‘We’ve had nothing to do with this place until we decided to move here,’ said Tobias. ‘Ebba inherited the house when her biological parents were declared dead, but after that it was rented out several times. Periodically it stood empty. That’s actually what prompted us to get started on the renovation. Nobody was taking care of the house. Only the most basic repairs have been done.’
‘I think we were meant to come here and tear up the floor,’ said Ebba. ‘There’s a reason for everything.’
‘Really?’ said Tobias. ‘For everything?’
But Ebba didn’t reply, and when Tobias followed Patrik and Gösta to the door, she was still sitting at the table in silence.
As they left Valö behind, Patrik was pondering the same question. What would they do if the techs confirmed that it was blood under the floor? The statute of limitations had expired. Too much time had elapsed, and there were no guarantees that answers could be found this long after the event. So what was the reason behind this discovery? Patrik’s head was filled with uneasy thoughts as he steered the boat homeward.
The doctor stopped talking and utter silence descended over the room. The only sound that Martin heard was the beating of his own heart. He looked at the doctor. How could he seem so unaffected by what he’d just said? Did he give people this sort of news several times a week? And if he did, how could he stand it?
Martin forced himself to keep breathing. He felt as if he’d forgotten how. Every breath demanded a conscious act, a specific instruction to his brain.
‘How long?’ he managed to say.
‘There are several different types of treatment, and the field of medicine is constantly making progress …’ The doctor threw out his hands.
‘But what’s the prognosis, statistically speaking?’ asked Martin, trying to remain calm. He would have liked to launch himself across the desk, grab hold of the doctor’s coat, and shake the information out of him.
Pia didn’t say a word, and Martin still couldn’t look at her. If he did, everything would fall apart. Right now all he could do was focus on the facts. Something tangible, something he could grasp.
‘It’s difficult to be precise. There are so many factors that play a role.’ The same apologetic expression, his hands raised in