Is that the right term when you’re informing someone that a person who has been missing for two years has been found dead? Fredrika wondered. She decided it probably was. Even if death was the only logical assumption, there was no reason to give up hope. Not if you really loved the person who was missing, not if you needed that hope. If Saga disappeared, how many years would it be before Fredrika gave up? A hundred? A thousand?
‘We will be informing her that her daughter has been found dead,’ Alex said. ‘I’m going to do it myself when the meeting is over. Fredrika can come with me.’
‘But there’s something I wanted to ask her,’ Peder objected. ‘The mother, I mean.’
‘There will be plenty of opportunities to speak to her, Peder. I’ve kept in touch with her since Rebecca disappeared, and I think this news will bring her peace of mind. She already suspects that her daughter is dead, but she wants that confirmation. And of course she’ll want to know what happened.’
Alex took a deep breath.
‘It’s difficult to establish the exact cause of death because the body has been lying there for such a long time. There is nothing to indicate bullet wounds or other physical trauma – broken ribs as a result of a struggle, for example. She might have been strangled, but we can’t be sure.’
He opened a folder and took out a number of photographs.
‘However, the pathologist was able to establish that she was pregnant at the time of her death.’
Fredrika looked up in surprise.
‘Did we know that?’
‘No, it didn’t come to light in any of the interviews during the course of the original investigation. And we spoke to every single person Rebecca knew. We went through everyone she’d been in touch with on the telephone, we checked out every friend listed as a contact in her email address book, but nobody mentioned the fact that she was pregnant.’
‘So no one knew?’ Fredrika said.
‘It looks that way,’ Alex replied. ‘In which case we have to ask why. Why doesn’t a young girl tell anyone she’s four months pregnant?’
‘Four months,’ Peder echoed. ‘Wouldn’t it have shown?’
‘If it had, somebody would have told us,’ Alex said.
‘She must have confided in someone,’ Fredrika insisted.
‘The father, perhaps?’ said Peder. ‘Who wasn’t very pleased to hear the news, and killed her?’
‘Then chopped up the body,’ said Alex.
He pointed to the photographs.
‘There are two main reasons why a perpetrator dismembers the body of his victim. One: to make identification more difficult. Two: because he’s a sick bastard who enjoys sadistic activities. But in that case he would probably bury the whole lot in one place.’
‘Perhaps both reasons apply,’ Fredrika suggested.
Alex looked at her.
‘Maybe. In which case we’re in real trouble. Because Rebecca might not be the only victim.’
‘But if we bring the pregnancy into our hypothesis, that makes it personal,’ Peder said.
‘Absolutely, which is why we’re going to start from there,’ Alex said. ‘Who was the child’s father, and why did nobody know she was pregnant?’
‘What happened in the original investigation?’ Fredrika asked. ‘Did you manage to narrow down a list of suspects?’
‘There was talk of a new boyfriend, and we threw everything into looking for him, but we never found him. It was a peculiar story from start to finish. We couldn’t find any trace of him – not in phone calls or in her emails. Nobody knew his name, but several people claimed they had “heard about him”. He hovered over the entire investigation like an evil spirit, but we never saw him. We didn’t find any other credible suspects.’
Peder frowned.
‘There was also an ex-girlfriend.’
‘Daniella.’
‘Exactly, so how come Rebecca suddenly had a boyfriend?’
Alex looked weary.
‘How the hell should I know? Her mother described her as a seeker. She’d had several boyfriends, but only one girlfriend.’
‘Was this Daniella ever a suspect?’ Fredrika asked.
‘We considered that as a working hypothesis for a while,’ Alex replied. ‘But she had an alibi, and we couldn’t really come up with a motive.’
‘And what about Håkan Nilsson?’ Peder wondered.
A smile flitted across Alex’s face, got lost among the lines and disappeared. That short-lived smile had become the characteristic sign of his grief.
‘We looked very carefully at Håkan. Not at first, but later on when we had no other leads to follow. His eagerness to help, his campaign to make sure she was found at any price – it all seemed to indicate rather more than friendship. It was almost manic. When her other friends just couldn’t go on any longer, Håkan was still there all on his own, still searching.’
‘The person who has the most to hide…’
‘… is the most keen to show he cares. I know. But in Håkan’s case, I don’t think that was true.’
When Alex paused, Peder spoke up.
‘He lives in Midsommarkransen, Alex. We need to take another look at him.’
Alex straightened up. That was something he hadn’t been aware of.
‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘We have to look at everyone again, but particularly Håkan. Put him under surveillance and see where he goes.’
Alex glanced at Fredrika.
‘And you and I will go and see Diana Trolle, Rebecca’s mother.’
They hardly spoke on the way to Diana Trolle’s house. Alex could feel Fredrika’s questions hanging in the air – how were things, was he lonely, how did it feel to be back at work? He had questions of his own – how was Saga? Did she sleep through the night, or did she keep her parents awake? Was she eating well, was she teething? But he couldn’t get a word out. It was as if he had been transformed into a mussel that was impossible to prise open. The kind of mussel that was easily disposed of.
It wasn’t far to Spånga, where Diana lived. He had often been there in the past, but it was a long time ago. He remembered that he had liked her, found her attractive. An artistic soul, lost in a boring job at County Hall.
To begin with, she had been optimistic as they searched for Rebecca. Alex had been honest with her: the first few days were critical. If her daughter was not found at that point, the prospect of finding her alive at a later stage was minimal. She had accepted his words calmly, not because her daughter was an insignificant part of her life, but because she had decided not to meet trouble halfway. She had stuck to that point of view for a long time.
‘As long as she’s not dead, she’s alive,’ she had said, giving Alex a phrase he could use in similar situations.
But now there was no avoiding the truth. Rebecca was dead, desecrated and buried. The piece of jewellery from her navel was in his jacket pocket. There was nothing merciful about the news Alex and Fredrika must now deliver. Perhaps there might be a chance of closure, but only if they could also explain what had led to Rebecca’s death. And they weren’t there yet.
Diana opened the door before they had time to ring the bell. It was Alex who told her when they sitting in the living room. Diana wept as she sat alone in a big armchair.
‘How did she die?’
‘We don’t know, Diana. But I promise you we’ll find out.’
Alex looked around. Rebecca lived on in this room, in photographs with her brother and in a picture her mother had painted when she was confirmed.
‘I knew as soon as I saw you getting out of the car. But I still hoped you might have come to tell me something else.’
Fredrika got to her feet.
‘I could make us all a drink, as long as you don’t mind me rummaging around in your kitchen?’
Diana nodded silently, and Alex caught himself wondering if he had ever heard Fredrika offer to do something like that. He didn’t think so.
They could hear the sound of the kettle and the clatter of cups being set out on a tray. Alex chose his words with care.