The Stranger. Camilla Lackberg
Martin had taken the same route, and they were unsure of what they would now find. For four days Kerstin had lived with the news that her partner was gone. Four days that surely must have seemed like an eternity.
Patrik glanced at Martin and rang the doorbell. As if they’d coordinated it, they both took a deep breath and then exhaled some of the tension that had built up inside them. In a way it felt selfish to be so distressed about seeing people in the depths of grief. Selfish to feel the slightest discomfort, when things were immeasurably easier for them than for the person who was mourning the loss of a loved one. But the discomfort was based on a fear of saying something wrong, taking a false step and possibly making matters worse. But common sense told them that nothing they could say or do would worsen the pain that was already almost beyond endurance.
They heard steps approaching, and the door opened. Inside stood not Kerstin, as they had expected, but Sofie.
‘Hello,’ she said softly, and they could see definite traces of several days of tears. She didn’t move, and Patrik cleared his throat.
‘Hello, Sofie. You remember us, don’t you? Patrik Hedström and Martin Molin.’ He looked at Martin but then turned back to Sofie. ‘Is … is Kerstin at home? We’d like to talk with her a bit.’
Sofie stepped aside. She went into the flat to call Kerstin, while Patrik and Martin waited in the hall. ‘Kerstin, the police are here. They want to talk to you.’
Kerstin appeared, and her face was red from crying as well. She stopped a short distance from them without saying a word, and neither Patrik nor Martin knew how to broach the subject they had come to discuss with her. Finally she said, ‘Won’t you come in?’
They nodded, took off their shoes, and followed her into the kitchen. Sofie seemed to want to follow, but Kerstin seemed instinctively to sense that what they were going to discuss wasn’t suitable for her ears, because she shook her head almost imperceptibly. For a second Sofie looked as though she were going to ignore the dismissal, but then she shrugged and went to her room and closed the door. In time she would be told all about it, but for now Patrik and Martin wanted to speak with Kerstin in private.
Patrik got straight to the point as soon as they had all sat down.
‘We’ve found a number of … irregularities surrounding Marit’s accident.’
‘Irregularities?’ said Kerstin, looking from one officer to the other.
‘Yes,’ said Martin. ‘There are certain … injuries that may not be attributable to the accident.’
‘May not?’ Kerstin said. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘No, we’re not positive yet,’ Patrik admitted. ‘We’ll know more when the medical examiner’s final report comes in. But there are enough questions to make us want to have another talk with you. To hear whether there’s any reason to believe that someone might have wanted to harm Marit.’ Patrik saw Kerstin flinch. He sensed a thought fly through her mind, a thought that she rejected at once. But he had to find out what it was, he couldn’t ignore it.
‘If you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Marit, you have to tell us. If nothing else so that we can exclude that person from suspicion.’ Patrik and Martin watched her tensely. She seemed to be wrestling with something, so they sat quietly, giving her time to formulate what she wanted to say.
‘We’ve received some letters.’ The words came slowly and reluctantly.
‘Letters?’ said Martin, wanting to hear more.
‘Ye-e-es.’ Kerstin fidgeted with the gold ring she wore on her left ring finger. ‘We’ve been getting letters for four years.’
‘What were the letters about?’
‘Threats, filth, things about my relationship with Marit.’
‘Someone who wrote because of …’ Patrik paused, not knowing how to phrase it, ‘because of the nature of your relationship?’
‘Yes,’ Kerstin admitted. ‘Somebody who understood or suspected that we were more than just friends and who was …’ Now it was her turn to search for words. She decided on ‘offended’.
‘What sort of threats were they? How blatant?’ Martin was now writing everything down.
‘They were quite blatant. Saying that people like us were disgusting, that we went against nature. That people like us should die.’
‘How often did you get these letters?’
Kerstin thought about it. She kept twisting her ring nervously round and round. ‘We got maybe three or four a year. Sometimes more, sometimes less. There didn’t seem to be any real pattern. It was more as if somebody sent one when the mood came over them, if you know what I mean.’
‘Why didn’t you ever file a police report?’ Martin looked up from his notebook.
Kerstin gave him a crooked smile. ‘Marit didn’t want to. She was afraid that it would make matters worse. That it would turn into a big deal and our … relationship would become public knowledge.’
‘And she didn’t want that to happen?’ asked Patrik, then remembered that was precisely what Kerstin and Marit had argued about before Marit drove off that evening. The evening when she didn’t come back.
‘No, she didn’t,’ Kerstin said tonelessly. ‘But we saved the letters. Just in case.’ She got up.
Patrik and Martin stared at each other in astonishment. They hadn’t even thought to ask about something like this. It was more than they’d dared hope. Now maybe they would find some physical evidence that might lead them to the person who wrote the letters.
Kerstin came back with a thick bundle of letters in a plastic bag. She dumped them out on the table. Patrik was afraid to destroy any more evidence. Enough damage had already been done through handling in the post and by Kerstin and Marit. So he poked cautiously through the letters with his pen. They were still in their envelopes, and he felt his heart quicken at the thought that there might be additional DNA evidence under the licked stamps.
‘May we take these with us?’ Martin asked, also regarding the pile of letters with anticipation.
‘Yes, take them,’ Kerstin said wearily. ‘Take them and burn them when you’re done.’
‘But you never received any threats besides the letters?’
Kerstin sat back down and thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Sometimes the phone would ring, but when we picked up the receiver the person wouldn’t say anything, just sat there in silence until we hung up. We actually tried to have the call traced once, but it turned out to be a pay-as-you-go mobile phone. So it was impossible to find out who it was.’
‘And when did you last get such a call?’ Martin waited tensely with his pen poised over his notebook.
‘Well, let me see,’ said Kerstin. ‘Two weeks ago, maybe?’ She was fiddling with her ring again.
‘But there was nothing besides this? Nobody who may have wanted to harm Marit? How was her relationship with her ex-husband, for example?’
Kerstin took her time answering. After first glancing into the hall to make sure that Sofie’s door was closed, she said at last, ‘He used to bother us in the beginning, for quite a while, actually. But the past year it’s been calmer.’
‘What exactly do you mean by bother you?’ asked Patrik as Martin took notes.
‘He couldn’t accept that Marit had left him. They’d been together ever since they were very young. But according to Marit it hadn’t been a good relationship for many years, if ever. To tell the truth, she was rather surprised at how strongly Ola reacted when she said she was moving out. But Ola …’ she hesitated, ‘Ola is a real control freak. Everything has to be neat and in order, and when Marit left him that order was disrupted. That was probably the thing that bothered