Just before seven thirty, she had been seen getting off the bus and walking towards Gärdet. There were no more witness statements from that point; it was as if Rebecca had been swallowed up by the earth.
Peder took out a map that had been used in the original investigation. All the people who had featured in the case in any way and who lived in the vicinity of Radiohuset had been marked on it; none had seemed more suspect than any other. There were only a handful of individuals, and they all had a viable alibi. None of them had arranged to meet Rebecca that evening. No one had seen her. Until now – if it was Rebecca’s body in those plastic bags.
The discovery had been made on the outskirts of Midsommarkransen. Was there anyone in the original investigation who had a connection with that part of the city? It was a long shot, but worth checking.
The case had been short on suspects. The analysis of Rebecca’s mobile phone traffic had been of no help; the last link to a mast merely confirmed that she had been in the vicinity of Radiohuset, after which all activity ceased. They hadn’t managed to find any enemies, but that didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t exist. Rebecca’s mother had mentioned a dispute with a colleague at the swimming baths, but that particular trail had quickly gone cold. The colleague had reacted with surprise, referring to the argument as nothing more than a trifle. In addition, he had had an alibi for the evening when Rebecca was reported missing.
Peder stopped in his tracks. Who misses a single girl the same evening she disappears? The first report showed that a male friend had called the police at eleven o’clock that night. Rebecca hadn’t turned up at the party as agreed, and she wasn’t answering her phone. The reaction from the police had been cool to begin with. Her parents were contacted as a matter of routine, but they hadn’t heard from her either. Her mother hadn’t been worried at first; her daughter was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. By two o’clock, the situation had changed. According to her mother, Rebecca still hadn’t been in touch with any of her friends, and her phone was switched off. Early in the morning, she was officially logged as missing, and the investigation was under way.
The person who had first called the police was one Håkan Nilsson. Why the police rather than Rebecca’s parents? Perhaps he didn’t know them. But why didn’t he wait? Why was he worried? Peder flicked through one document after another. Håkan Nilsson had gone out of his way to assist the police throughout the investigation: a friend who thought her disappearance was terrible, and wanted to help out. But why had Nilsson been more helpful than any of Rebecca’s other friends? He had printed posters, given an interview to the student newspaper. He kept on saying that ‘we’ were concerned, but there was no indication as to who ‘we’ might be.
Peder decided to mention it to Alex. He opened the database of residential addresses on the computer and ran a quick check on Håkan Nilsson. He had previously lived in the same student hostel as Rebecca, and his current address was Tellusgatan. In Hägersten. Which was in Midsommarkransen.
Peder stared at the screen. If it really was Rebecca Trolle in those plastic bags, then Håkan Nilsson had some explaining to do.
When Fredrika Bergman knocked on Alex’s door, he was slumped in his chair, his brow deeply furrowed. Fredrika had seen him only a few times since he was widowed, and she could have wept when she saw how much he had aged in just a few months. Although it went against the grain to admit it, she had noticed the same thing with Spencer. Both men had recently gone through difficult times, which had left their mark. She forced herself to smile.
‘Fredrika,’ Alex said as soon as he saw her.
His face broke into a warm smile that put her at ease. After a brief hesitation he got up and came around the desk to give her a hug. Strong arms around her body; she felt herself blushing.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked.
Alex shrugged. ‘Not too bad,’ he replied.
They sat down.
‘How’s your daughter?’
‘Saga’s fantastic. She’s almost walking.’
‘That’s early, isn’t it?’
‘Not really; she’ll soon be one.’
Fredrika glanced around the room. He had several photographs on the wall behind him. Photographs of his family. Of the wife who no longer existed.
Life’s a bitch and then you die.
‘We were talking about you earlier on today,’ Alex said.
‘Really?’
Alex immediately looked brighter, cautiously optimistic.
‘We miss you. We were hoping you’d be ready to come back soon, perhaps in the summer?’
Fredrika felt ridiculous.
‘Well actually… I could come back before then.’
‘Wonderful. When were you thinking of?’
Should she tell him? Should she explain that her partner had suddenly announced that he wanted to spend some time at home with Saga after all? That things were difficult at work, and he couldn’t face going in?
Suddenly she asked herself if she even wanted to come back to work. The days with Saga had been wonderful. Fredrika had been pregnant at the same time as several of her friends, and they had met up almost every week during her maternity leave. They would think she had lost her mind if she rang and told them she had started work so suddenly.
‘I could start off working part time – say seventy-five per cent?’
‘From when?’
She hesitated.
‘Tomorrow…?’
Margareta Berlin, head of Human Resources, had a meeting with Fredrika a little while later. She didn’t normally concern herself with routine matters, but when she realised it was to do with the staffing of Alex Recht’s team, she sent for Fredrika.
‘Thank you for coming.’
Fredrika smiled and sat down.
‘I was just on my way home, so I hope this won’t take too long…’
‘No, of course not.’
Margareta gathered up some papers and placed them in the filing cabinet behind her. She was tall and strong, or rather powerfully built. Fredrika didn’t want to describe her as fat, but she gave an impression of sturdiness.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
The question gave Fredrika a bad feeling.
‘Fine. Thank you.’
Margareta nodded.
‘You look well. I just wanted confirmation, really. How’s Alex?’
‘You’ll have to ask Alex about that.’
‘But I’m asking you.’
There was a brief silence as Fredrika considered the question.
‘I think he seems OK. Better, anyway.’
‘I think so too. But I have to admit that things weren’t too good for a while.’
She leaned across the desk.
‘I’ve known Alex for over twenty years, and I want nothing but the best for him.’
She paused.
‘But if he’s guilty of misconduct, if he turns out not to be up to the job, then I will have to act.’
‘Who says he’s not up to the job?’ Fredrika asked, sounding more confused than she would have wished.
‘Nobody, so far. But I’ve been told on the quiet that he’s been unnecessarily hard on certain colleagues. You could say he’s been doing my job.’
She laughed softly.
Fredrika wasn’t laughing. She had the greatest respect for Margareta Berlin, not least because she had finally put a stop to Peder Rydh’s nonsense. But Fredrika’s loyalty lay with Alex, not with the head of HR. She hadn’t expected this to cause any kind of conflict.