“So at least we know that,” Wallander said, not hiding his disappointment.
“I’m heading home now,” Svedberg said.
Wallander had hardly hung up before the phone rang again. It was Birch.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “there’s no-one with the initials K.A.”
“Shit,” said Wallander.
Both of them thought for a moment.
“She could have given birth somewhere else,” Birch said. “It doesn’t have to have been in Lund.”
“You’re right,” Wallander said. “We’ll have to keep at it tomorrow.” He hung up.
Now he knew what it was that was connected with Svedberg. A piece of paper that had landed on his desk by mistake. About something going on at night in the Ystad maternity ward. Had it been an attack? Something about a fake nurse?
He called Svedberg, who answered from his car.
“Where are you?” Wallander asked.
“I haven’t even made it to Staffanstorp.”
“Come to the station. There’s something we have to check out.”
“All right,” Svedberg said. “I’m on my way.”
It took him exactly 45 minutes. It was just before 10 p.m. when Svedberg showed up in the door of Wallander’s office. By that time Wallander had already started to doubt his own idea.
It was all too probable that he was just imagining things.
CHAPTER 27
He didn’t fully comprehend what had happened until the door closed behind him. He went down the few steps to his car and got in behind the wheel. Then he said his own name out loud: Ake Davidsson.
From now on Ake Davidsson was going to be a very lonely man. He hadn’t expected this to happen to him. He had never thought that the woman he had been in a relationship with for so many years, even though they didn’t live together, would tell him that it was over, and throw him out of her house.
He started to cry. It hurt. He didn’t understand. But she had been quite firm, telling him to leave and never come back. She’d met another man who wanted to move in with her.
It was almost midnight on Monday, 17 October. He peered into the darkness. He knew that he shouldn’t drive after dark. His eyes weren’t strong enough. He could really only drive in daylight, with special glasses. He squinted through the windscreen. He could only just make out the contours of the road. But he had no choice, he couldn’t stay here all night. He had to go back to Malmo.
He started the engine and turned onto the road, still feeling upset. He was really having trouble seeing. Maybe it would get easier when he got on to the motorway. But first he had to get out of Lodinge.
He took a wrong turn. There were so many side roads, and they all looked alike in the dark. After half an hour he knew that he was completely lost. He reached a courtyard where the road seemed to come to a dead end, and started to turn around. Suddenly he caught sight of a shadow in his headlights. Someone was coming towards the car. He felt relieved at once. There was someone out there who would tell him which way to go. He opened the car door and got out.
Then everything went black.
It took Svedberg a quarter of an hour to find the paper Wallander wanted to see. Wallander had made himself quite clear when Svedberg arrived back just before 10 p.m.
“This might be a shot in the dark,” Wallander had told him. “But we’re looking for a woman with the initials K.A. who recently gave birth or will soon give birth somewhere in Skane. We thought she was in Lund, but that turned out to be wrong. Maybe she’s here in Ystad instead. I’ve been told that Ystad’s maternity ward is known even outside the country for its practices. Something strange has occurred there one night, and then a second time, and I want to know what happened.”
When Svedberg had found the paper, he went back to Wallander, who was waiting impatiently.
“Ylva Brink,” Svedberg said. “She’s my cousin, a distant cousin. And she’s a midwife at the maternity ward. She came here to report that an unknown woman had showed up one night in her ward. It made her nervous.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s simply not normal for a stranger to be in the maternity ward at night.”
“We need to take a good look at this,” Wallander said. “When was the first time it happened?”
“The night of 30 September.”
“And it made her nervous?”
“She came over here the following day, a Saturday. I talked with her for a while. That’s when I made these notes.”
“When was the second time?”
“The night of 13 October. Ylva happened to be working that night too. That’s when she was knocked to the ground. I was called out there in the morning.”
“What happened?”
“The woman showed up again. When Ylva tried to stop her, she was knocked down. Ylva said it felt like being kicked by a horse.”
“She’d never seen this woman before?”
“Just that one other time.”
“She was wearing a uniform?”
“Yes. But Ylva was positive she wasn’t on the nursing staff.”
“How could she be sure? There must be a lot of people she wouldn’t recognise who work at the hospital.”
“She was positive. I’m afraid that I didn’t ask her why.”
“This woman had an interest in the maternity ward between 30 September and 13 October,” Wallander said. “She made two visits late at night, not hesitating to knock down a midwife. So what was she really up to?”
“That’s what Ylva wants to know too.”
“She has no answer?”
“They went over the ward both times, but everything was in order.”
Wallander looked at his watch. It was almost 10.45 p.m.
“I want you to call your cousin,” he said. “Even if you have to wake her up.”
Svedberg nodded. Wallander pointed at his phone. He knew that Svedberg, generally forgetful, had a good memory for phone numbers. He dialled the number. It rang and rang. No answer.
“If she’s not home, that means she’s working,” Svedberg said.
Wallander jumped up.
“Even better,” he said. “I haven’t been back to the maternity ward since Linda was born.”
“The old wing was torn down,” Svedberg said. “The whole place is new.”
It took them only a few minutes to drive to the hospital. Wallander remembered the night several years ago when he’d woken up with violent pains in his chest and thought he was having a heart attack. Since then the hospital had been remodelled. They rang the bell and a guard came at once and opened the door. Wallander showed him his identification, and they took the stairs to the maternity ward. A woman was waiting for them at the door to the ward.
“My cousin,” Svedberg said. “Ylva Brink.”
Wallander shook her hand, catching a glimpse of a nurse in the background. Ylva took them to a small office.
“It’s calm right now,” she said. “But that can change at any minute.”
“I’ll get right to the point,” Wallander said. “I know that all information on patients is confidential, and I’m not intending to challenge that rule. The only thing I want to know is whether between 30 September and 13 October a woman gave birth here whose initials were K.A. K as in Karin and A as in Andersson.”
The woman looked uneasy.
“Has something happened?”
“No,” Wallander said. “I just need to identify someone, that’s all.”
“I can’t tell you,” she said. “That information is confidential unless the patient has signed a release form allowing details about her to be divulged. I’m certain that the rule must also apply to initials.”
“My question will be answered sooner or later,” Wallander said. “My problem is that I need to know right now.”
“I still can’t help you.”
Svedberg had been sitting in silence. Wallander saw that he was frowning.
“Is there a men’s room here?” he asked.
“Around the corner.”
Svedberg nodded to Wallander.
“You said that you needed to go.”
Wallander understood. He got up and left the room.