It was the second time Jimmy had seen the man, and although he didn’t know why, the man made him feel frightened. That was why he hoped the old lady hadn’t seen the man, because then she would be frightened too.
Suddenly the man moved. Towards the open patio door. And went inside. Jimmy inhaled sharply. What if the man was going to hurt the old lady?
Jimmy picked up his mobile; he would ring Peder. But Peder hadn’t wanted to listen last time, Jimmy recalled. Perhaps one of the staff could help him?
He couldn’t see the man any longer. Jimmy had a pain in his tummy. There was no time to think. He had to do something.
He opened his own patio door and went outside. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, but it was so warm that it probably didn’t matter. He had his socks on, after all.
It took him less than a minute to reach the old lady’s room and suddenly Jimmy didn’t know what to do. Should he knock on the door, call out and say hello? Intuitively, he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Instead he pressed himself against the wall, right by the window. He could hear the man talking.
‘If you’ve kept quiet for thirty years, you can keep quiet until you die,’ the man said. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’
The lady probably didn’t understand, Jimmy thought, because she didn’t speak.
‘I know why you’ve kept quiet,’ the man went on, lowering his voice. ‘And you know that I know, Thea. It’s to protect that boy of yours, and I have every sympathy with that.’
The man paused.
‘But if I go down, I will take him with me. I will crush him, if it’s the last thing I do. Do you hear me?’
At first, there was complete silence, then Jimmy heard the lady, who apparently was called Thea, say in a hoarse voice:
‘If you threaten my son once more, you’re a dead man.’
The words reached Jimmy outside the window. He couldn’t stop himself from calling out:
‘No, no, no!’
Then he stopped speaking and stood there rooted to the spot as the man inside slowly came closer.
47
The outside world had ceased to exist. Fredrika Bergman was making a huge effort to understand what the police officer opposite her was saying, but she was finding it impossible to process his words. Spencer had been arrested. He had put Saga in her buggy and walked to police HQ, where Fredrika worked, in order to apply for a new passport. In spite of the fact that his current passport was still valid for a few months.
‘We’re convinced he was intending to leave the country,’ the officer said.
‘That’s just ridiculous,’ Fredrika said.
‘I don’t think so. He knew we were onto him, so he decided to make a run for it.’
‘He’s innocent.’
‘Believe me, I know it’s difficult for you to sit and listen to this. But you have to face facts. Spencer Lagergren is not the man you thought he was. He’s a rapist. And men like that can have many different faces, as you well know.’
She was so angry that her fury threatened to consume her.
‘I’ve known him for over ten years.’
The police officer leaned back.
‘Interesting. And for how many of those years was he married to someone else?’
The rage was red, almost blinding her.
‘That’s totally irrelevant.’
‘To you, but not to me.’
She got up and left. Picked up her child and walked out of the room. Asked to speak to Spencer. She was informed that this was not possible under the circumstances.
‘We’re going to charge him,’ the officer behind her said.
‘You’ll regret it if you do,’ she replied.
The shock debilitated her. Hugging Saga tightly, and with tears pouring down her face, she left the police station. There wasn’t a single part of her that doubted Spencer’s innocence with regard to the student who had made an accusation against him. She obviously wanted to destroy his life, or at least his career. But Fredrika had no intention of allowing that to happen.
Over my dead body.
Her mobile rang in her pocket; her hand was shaking as she answered. The sound of Alex’s calm voice reached her.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’ve just left the police station.’
Saga dropped her dummy and began to whimper. Fredrika reacted automatically, replacing the dummy and settling the child in her buggy. She set off, walking quickly so that her daughter would be distracted by her surroundings as they whizzed by, and with a bit of luck would forget that she was no longer being carried.
‘Don’t do anything stupid, Fredrika,’ Alex said.
‘I won’t.’
‘I’m serious. You run the risk of making Spencer’s situation, and your own, even worse if you start acting on your own initiative.’
He must have realised that she wasn’t listening to a word he said, because he carried on with his exhortations until she excused herself and ended the call. She increased her speed and set off in a different direction. Along Luthagsesplanaden and off towards Rackarberget. She would go and see that bloody girl, pin her up against the wall. Make her understand what she was doing.
Her years as a student in Uppsala had been among the best of Fredrika’s life, and yet they felt so far away. Every street, every district held the memory of a particular event that meant something to her. Under normal circumstances she enjoyed walking around the city, but not today. A rage that was fierce enough to cloud her vision held her soul in an iron grip, and she knew it wasn’t about to let go. Her life had turned into a nightmare, and she had no idea how she was going to escape from it.
It was almost six o’clock, and Peder wanted to go home. The working day was over; they would carry on tomorrow.
‘Valter Lund,’ Alex said. ‘He’s coming in tomorrow, not today.’
‘Spencer Lagergren,’ Peder said.
Alex nodded pensively. The discovery of a third body had changed things.
‘Go over to Uppsala tomorrow, and ask if you can question him on our case. Get it out of the way. He doesn’t belong in this investigation, but he might be able to help fill in the background to everything that’s happened. Ask him about the film club, and Thea Aldrin. And our friend Elias Hjort.’
They were sitting alone in the Lions’ Den, finishing off a working day that had brought more twists and turns than they could count.
‘What’s your take on the information Torbjörn Ross gave us?’ Peder asked.
Alex stiffened.
‘I think we need to handle it with extreme care,’ he said slowly.
With a certain amount of hesitation, he told Peder what had happened during the fishing trip, and about their colleague’s clearly unhealthy interest in Thea Aldrin. Peder was horrified.
‘He’s still visiting her? After all these years?’
‘He seems to be obsessed with the idea of finding her son, and holding her responsible for his death.’
‘But if he’s dead, surely the crime is beyond the statute of limitations by now?’
‘Which just makes the whole thing even more peculiar, but apparently that makes no difference to Ross.’
Peder massaged his temples.
The story Torbjörn Ross had told them covered the whole case like a wet blanket. Elias Hjort had acted as the legal representative of the author who wrote Mercury and Asteroid. According to Ross, the books had been turned into a so-called snuff movie, which had been seized by the police during a raid on a strip club. Ross also maintained that it was Thea Aldrin who had written the infamous books; this, he claimed, was a clear indication that she was insane.