‘And what did Abraham say?’
‘He was walking to the bus stop when I rang.’
Abraham didn’t live far from Karlavägen, where he was supposed to be meeting Simon. No more than two hundred metres in the direction of Djurgården.
The boy went on:
‘I was going to ask if he wanted to play computer games later, but he told me to ring back after his tennis lesson. I asked him if he knew whether we were going skating with the school today, because if so I needed to ask my mum to get my ice skates down from the loft.’
He paused, and Peder noticed that Fredrika was moving her feet up and down impatiently. It took an eternity for children to get to the point; interviewing them required an enormous amount of patience.
‘Abraham said he thought we were going to the ice rink, but then he said he had to go. He said that really, really quickly.’
‘Because he’d reached the bus stop where Simon was waiting?’ Alex asked.
‘No, because someone in a car had pulled up and offered him a lift. At least that’s what he said before he rang off.’
Alex turned to Peder and Fredrika, stunned into silence. Peder could see that they were all thinking the same thing.
The boys had accepted a lift and been abducted by someone known to them.
Two mothers on a journey through hell that Fredrika Bergman could not and would not begin to imagine. Their sons had been missing for just over eighteen hours. During those hours the silence had been deafening; they hadn’t heard a word from or about their ten-year-old children.
I wouldn’t be able to cope, Fredrika thought. Without Isak and Saga I am nothing.
Before she had children, she had sometimes doubted whether she was capable of a mother’s love, a mother’s strength; of those qualities that seemed to make women capable of moving mountains for the sake of their children. Fredrika had thought she was too egotistical, too self-centred to stand being needed all the time. She had been wrong. On the contrary, it suited her perfectly to be so loved, so much in demand.
She looked at the woman in front of her.
Her name was Carmen Eisenberg, and her son was missing.
It seemed to be a very conservative arrangement: the men were out in their cars searching for the boys, while the women remained in the centre, engaged in a different aspect of the search. Abraham’s mother was in the room next door, talking to Alex.
‘Have you been here all night?’ Fredrika asked.
‘Of course – where else would I be?’
‘I thought perhaps you might have other children at home.’
‘Some good friends are looking after our daughter. We have two children. Simon is the eldest.’
Fredrika already knew how many children they had. She also knew how old they were and where they had been born: Simon in Jerusalem, the year the family moved to Stockholm, and the girl in Sweden. She thought about the elderly lady who had seen Simon at the bus stop, and said he looked angry.
‘What kind of person is Simon?’
‘Quiet. Conscientious. Popular. Maybe too nice.’
Maybe too nice? Was that possible when you were ten years old?
‘What do you mean?’
Don’t evaluate what is said, just listen and ask for clarification if you don’t understand.
‘He’s always keen to fit in with everyone else, always ready to compromise. Sometimes others take advantage.’
‘His friends, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘Abraham?’
‘Especially Abraham.’
Her tone was neutral, she didn’t look upset. Fredrika had watched the interaction between the two mothers for a little while; they seemed to know each other well, and worked together with no friction. However, she hadn’t got the impression that they were close friends.
‘Tell me.’
Carmen crossed her legs and tilted her head on one side. She spoke with a noticeable accent, a legacy from Israel. Fredrika didn’t understand a word of Hebrew, but she recognised the language.
Israel. The country to which Spencer would be travelling on Sunday.
Without her.
‘How can I explain?’ Carmen said. ‘On the whole, Abraham is a good kid; he’s tough and confident, and nobody can tell me that those aren’t important qualities in life. But the negative side is that he’s incredibly competitive. Every single thing is a competition. Reaching the front door first when you get out of the car; scoring the highest marks in the maths test. Simon’s not like that at all. He won’t take on Abraham’s constant challenges; instead he just lies down, so to speak. In school he runs his own race. If Abraham wants to make comparisons, he’s welcome to do so, but as far as Simon is concerned, thinking of every test or piece of homework as a competition does nothing to improve his motivation.’
‘And of course Abraham is aware of this?’
‘Absolutely. So if they’re playing football or computer games or whatever, he’s very good at getting his own way. Whatever the cost. Simon can’t cope with all that.’
Fredrika thought about Simon standing at the bus stop, annoyed and probably cold.
‘Does Simon often end up waiting for Abraham?’
‘Far too often. My husband sometimes tells him off about it; he thinks Simon should make it clear to Abraham that you can’t behave like that.’
Very wise. As long as Dad’s criticism didn’t turn into yet another problem.
‘I realise this might sound stupid, but I have to ask,’ Fredrika said. ‘Do you think there’s the slightest chance that the boys might have gone off somewhere on their own?’
‘No.’
Neither do I.
‘Abraham wouldn’t be able to persuade Simon to do something like that?’
‘The point is, if Simon ever got the idea of doing something as ridiculous as running away from home, Abraham would be the last person he would choose as his accomplice.’
Why did it have to be so hot in here? Alex thought about taking off his jacket as well, but would that look too informal? Probably.
So he kept it on as he interviewed Abraham’s mother.
Daphne Goldmann. A tall, dark woman with a steely expression. Just like Simon’s parents, Abraham’s mother and father had relocated to Sweden ten years ago. Alex wondered if this was a coincidence, or whether the move had been a joint enterprise.
‘I understand that you’re under immense strain,’ he began. ‘Is someone helping out with your other children while you and your husband are here?’
‘Abraham is our only child.’
So if something happens to him, you have no one left.
‘Do you work outside the home?’
‘My husband and I run a company offering various kinds of security solutions for organisations involved in activities in need of protection.’
Alex had no idea what any of that meant, but didn’t really want to dig any deeper.
‘When and how did you discover that Abraham was missing?’
He already knew the answer, but he had to start somewhere.
‘We realised something had happened when he didn’t come home after tennis. We called his coach, who said that neither Abraham nor Simon had turned up for their session. He had assumed they’d had problems because of the weather; apparently several of the children weren’t there yesterday.’
‘And what was your initial reaction?’
‘That something was wrong. That something had happened to them. If they’d got stuck somewhere because of the snow, they would have called.’
‘Why? Couldn’t they just have decided to skip tennis and do something that was more fun?’
Daphne folded her arms.
‘Definitely not.’
‘Because?’
‘Because as far as Abraham is concerned, nothing is more fun than playing tennis.’
‘Is he good?’
‘He’s good at everything he does. Tennis is no exception.’
Alex ran a hand over his chin, remembering the photographs he had seen of the boys.