The Ice Child. Camilla Lackberg

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СКАЧАТЬ I said, we are investigating all possible leads. We are not ruling out anything.’

      He allowed the reporters to ask questions for another fifteen minutes, but he was unable to answer most of them, either because he didn’t know the answer or because he didn’t want to release more details. Unfortunately, the more questions thrown at him, the clearer it became just how little the police actually knew. It had been four months since Victoria disappeared, and even longer since the girls in the other districts had gone missing. Yet there was so little to go on. Frustrated, Patrik decided the time had come to stop taking questions.

      ‘Bertil, is there anything you’d like to say in conclusion?’ Patrik adroitly moved aside to make Mellberg feel that he was the one who had been conducting the press conference.

      ‘Yes, I’d like to take this opportunity to say it was a blessing in disguise that it was in our district that the first of the missing girls was found, given the unique expertise available at our station. Under my leadership, we have solved a number of high-profile murder cases, and my list of previous successes shows that …’

      Patrik interrupted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

      ‘I wholeheartedly agree. We’d like to thank all of you for your questions, and we’ll stay in touch.’

      Mellberg glared at him, angry at missing an opportunity for a little self-promotion, but Patrik steered him out of the room while the journalists and photographers gathered up their things. ‘Sorry about cutting in like that, but I was afraid they would miss their deadline if we kept them here any longer. After that great presentation you gave, we want to be certain they’ll file their reports in time for the morning editions.’

      Patrik was ashamed of the drivel he was spouting, but it seemed to work because Mellberg’s face lit up.

      ‘Of course. Good thinking, Hedström. You do have your useful moments.’

      ‘Thanks,’ said Patrik wearily. Handling Mellberg took as much effort as running the investigation. If not more.

      ‘Why are you still unwilling to talk about what happened? It was so many years ago.’ Ulla, the prison therapist, peered at Laila over the rims of her red-framed glasses.

      ‘Why do you keep asking me about it? After so many years?’ replied Laila.

      Back when she started serving her sentence she’d felt pressured by all the demands to describe everything, to open her soul and reveal the details from that day as well as the preceding period. Now it no longer bothered her. No one expected her to answer those questions; they were both just going through the motions. Laila knew that Ulla had to continue to ask about that time, and Ulla knew that Laila would continue to refuse to answer. For ten years Ulla had been the prison therapist. Her predecessors had stayed for varying lengths of time, depending on their ambitions. Tending to the psychological well-being of prisoners wasn’t particularly rewarding monetarily or in terms of career development or satisfaction at receiving good results. Most of the prisoners were beyond saving, and everybody knew it. Yet someone still had to do the job, and Ulla seemed to be the therapist who felt most content with her role. And that in turn made Laila feel calmer about being with her, even though she knew the conversation would never lead anywhere.

      ‘You seem to look forward to Erica Falck’s visits,’ said Ulla now, startling Laila. This was a new topic. Not one of the usual, familiar subjects that they danced around. She felt her hands start to shake as they lay on her lap. She didn’t like new questions. Ulla was aware of this and she fell silent, waiting for a reply.

      Aware that her usual replies, which she could rattle off in her sleep, wouldn’t suffice, Laila couldn’t decide whether to respond or keep quiet.

      ‘It’s something different,’ she said at last, hoping that would be enough. But Ulla seemed unusually persistent today. Like a dog refusing to let go of a bone.

      ‘In what way? Do you mean it’s a break from the daily routines here? Or something else?’

      Laila clasped her hands to keep them still. She found the questions confusing. She hadn’t a clue what she was hoping to achieve by meeting with Erica. She could have gone on declining Erica’s repeated requests to visit her. She could have gone on living in her own world while the years slowly passed and the only thing that changed was her face in the mirror. But how could she do that now that evil had forced its way in? Now that she realized it wasn’t simply a matter of taking new victims. Now that it was happening so close.

      ‘I like Erica,’ said Laila. ‘And of course her visits are a break from all the dreariness.’

      ‘I think there’s more to it than that,’ said Ulla, pressing her chin to her chest as she studied Laila. ‘You know what she wants. She wants to hear about what we’ve tried to talk about so many times. What you don’t want to discuss.’

      ‘That’s her problem. No one is forcing her to come here.’

      ‘True,’ said Ulla. ‘But I can’t help wondering whether deep down you’d like to tell Erica everything and in that way lighten the burden. She seems to have somehow reached you, while the rest of us have failed, in spite of all our attempts.’

      Laila didn’t answer. They had tried so often, but she wasn’t sure she could have told them even if she had wanted to. It was too overwhelming. And besides, where should she begin? With their first meeting, with the evil that grew, with that last day when it happened? What sort of starting point could she possibly choose so that someone else would understand what even she found inexplicable?

      ‘Is it possible that you’ve fallen into a pattern with us, that you’ve kept everything inside for so long that you just can’t let it out?’ asked Ulla, tilting her head to one side. Laila wondered whether psychologists were taught to adopt that pose. Every therapist she’d ever met did the same thing.

      ‘What does it matter now? It was all so long ago.’

      ‘Yes, but you’re still here. And I think in part that’s your own doing. You don’t seem to have any desire to lead a normal life outside these prison walls.’

      If Ulla only knew how right she was. Laila did not want to live outside of the prison; she had no idea how she would manage that. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She didn’t dare. She didn’t dare live in the same world as the evil she had seen close-up. The prison was the only place where she felt safe. Perhaps it wasn’t much of a life, but it was hers, and the only one she knew.

      ‘I don’t want to talk any more,’ said Laila, standing up.

      Ulla’s gaze didn’t waver, seeming to go right through her. Laila hoped not. There were certain things she hoped no one would ever see.

      Normally it was Dan who took the girls to the stable, but today he was busy at work, so Anna had driven them there instead. She felt a childish joy that Dan had asked her to step in, that he had asked her anything at all. But she wished she could have avoided the stable. She had a deep-seated dislike of horses. The big animals frightened her. It was a fear stemming from her childhood when she had been forced to take riding lessons. Her mother Elsy had decided that she and Erica should learn to ride, leading to two years’ torment for both sisters. It had been a mystery to Anna why the other girls at the stable were so obsessed with horses. Personally she found them totally unreliable, and her pulse would still race at the memory of how it felt to cling to a rearing animal. No doubt the horses could sense her fear from far away, but that made no difference. Right now she was thinking СКАЧАТЬ