Dark Secrets Read online

  Billy found camera 1.14 in the various subfolders and started the video with a double click. The quality of the video was better than usual: the CCTV system was less than six months old, and the company hadn’t cut corners when it had come to the cost. This cheered Billy up to no end. Most of the time the material from surveillance cameras was so poor and blurry that it was of very little help in their investigations. But this was a different matter. Practically Zeiss optics, thought Billy as he scrolled through to 9:00 p.m. After only half an hour he phoned Torkel, who came right away.

  Torkel sat down next to Billy. On the ceiling the projector linked to Billy’s computer was whirring away. The images from camera 1.15 were being projected onto the wall. From the angle it was easy to figure out that the camera was located some thirty feet off the ground. It was staring down at an open square, and in the center a road disappeared between two tall buildings. The building on the left was the college, the other a school. The empty open square directly in front of the camera looked cold and windy. A digital clock marked the time in one corner of the screen. The silence was suddenly broken as a moped appeared. Billy froze the image.

  “There. Leo Lundin passes by at nine oh two. Shortly afterward Roger appears, walking from the west.”

  Billy pressed a key and the recording continued. A minute or so later another figure appeared. He was wearing a green jacket and walking quickly and purposefully. Billy froze the image again and they gazed at the figure. Even though he was wearing a baseball cap with the peak hiding his face, it was definitely Roger Eriksson, without a shadow of doubt. The height, the medium-length hair, and that jacket, the one that was now hanging in the police evidence lockup, brown with dried blood, was undamaged and unmarked.

  “He appears at precisely nine oh two and forty-eight seconds,” said Billy, restarting the video. Roger gave a little jump and carried on walking. There was something about moving images of a person who had only hours to live. It was as if the knowledge of the impending catastrophe meant that every step was scrutinized more closely, every movement acquired a greater significance. Death was lurking just around the corner, but in fact this ordinary walk carried nothing of it. The knowledge of what was to come lay with the person watching, not with the sixteen-year-old boy quietly moving past camera 1.15. He knew nothing of what was waiting for him.

  Torkel saw Roger stop and look up. A second later the moped reentered the picture. From Roger’s body language Torkel and Billy could see that he knew the rider and was aware that the appearance of the moped would cause him problems. Roger stiffened and looked around, as if seeking a way out. He seemed to decide quickly to ignore the moped, which was now circling around him like an irritating wasp. Roger tried to move on but the circling moped prevented him, coming closer and closer, around and around. Roger stopped, and after a few more circuits, so did the moped. Leo got off. Roger looked at the other boy as Leo removed his helmet and straightened up, as if to make himself look bigger. Roger looked as if he knew there was going to be trouble and was preparing himself. Steeling himself for what he knew was bound to happen.

  This was Torkel’s first real encounter with the dead boy, and it gave him some idea of who he had been. He hadn’t run away. Perhaps he hadn’t been just a victim. It looked as if he too was trying to make himself look a little taller. Leo said something. Roger replied, and then came the first shove. Roger stumbled backward and Leo followed. As Roger regained his balance, Leo grabbed hold of his left arm and tugged at the jacket, exposing his watch. Presumably Leo said something, because Roger made an attempt to pull his arm away. Leo responded by punching him in the face.

  Hard and fast.

  With no warning.

  Torkel could see the blood trickling down Roger’s right hand when he raised it to his face. Leo hit him again. Roger wobbled, grabbing Leo’s T-shirt as he fell to his knees.

  “That’s how Leo got blood on his T-shirt,” Billy commented briefly. Torkel nodded to himself; that explained it. Seeing the blood on his T-shirt seemed to be the trigger, the impetus Leo needed to justify an increased level of violence. He hurled himself at Roger in a fury. It wasn’t long before Roger was lying on the ground, suffering a barrage of kicks. The clock on the screen mechanically registered the time as Roger lay there curled up in the fetal position, taking what Leo thought he deserved. Eventually, at 9:05, Leo stopped kicking, bent over Roger, and ripped the watch off his arm. With one last look at the boy lying on the ground, he put on his helmet with exaggerated slowness, as if to emphasize his superiority, got back on his moped, and rode out of the picture. Roger stayed where he was for a while. Billy looked at Torkel.

  “He wasn’t watching Let’s Dance with his girlfriend.”

  Torkel nodded. Lisa was lying. But the information Leonard had given during questioning was also incorrect. Roger hadn’t started something by knocking Leo off his moped.

  They hadn’t had a quarrel.

  As far as Torkel knew, a quarrel required two active participants.

  He reached back and put his hands behind his head. They could certainly do Leo Lundin for robbery with violence.

  But not murder. At least not there and then. And not later either, Torkel was sure of it. Leo was a thug. But cutting out someone’s heart… No, he didn’t have it in him. In a few years maybe, if his life really went down the pan, but not right now.

  “Where does Roger go next?”

  “I don’t know. Look.” Billy got up and went over to the map on the wall.

  “He carries straight on and reaches Vasagatan, where he can go right or left. If he goes left he eventually comes to Norra Ringvägen. There’s a camera at the junction there, but he never appears on it.”

  “So he must have gone right?”

  “In that case he would have turned up on this camera here.” Billy pointed to a spot outside the sports ground, a fraction to the north on the map. A couple hundred yards, in reality. “But he doesn’t.”

  “So he turned off somewhere before he got there.”

  Billy nodded and pointed to a smaller road leading off Vasagatan at an angle.

  “Probably here. Apalbyvägen. Straight into a residential area. No cameras. We don’t even know which direction he went in.”

  “So check them all. He might reappear on one of the bigger roads. Get a team knocking on doors in the area. Someone must have seen him. I want to know where he went.”

  Billy nodded, and both men picked up their phones.

  Billy called the slightly hungover birthday boy at the security company to request more CCTV footage.

  Torkel called Vanja. She answered immediately, as always.

  Vanja and Sebastian were just leaving Palmlövska High when Torkel called. The bell had rung for lunch and many of the students were outside. Torkel briefed her quickly; he liked to be efficient when he was speaking on the telephone, and the conversation lasted less than a minute. Vanja ended the call and turned to Sebastian.

  “They’ve seen the video from Gustavsborgsgatan. Roger was there just after nine.”

  Sebastian considered this new information. Vanja had stubbornly maintained that Lisa Hansson, Roger’s sixteen-year-old girlfriend, had lied repeatedly about where Roger was on the night of the murder. Now they had proof that this was indeed the case. It seemed more important to Lisa to hide the truth than to solve the murder of her boyfriend. That kind of secret interested Sebastian. In fact, the whole goddamn case was starting to interest him more and more. He had to admit that a little break from his own brooding had been welcome. He might as well stick with it for as long as he needed to, make the best of the situation. Make new decisions about his collaboration and the future when the opportunity arose.

  “Shall we go and have a little chat with Lisa?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  They headed back into the school. Lisa had gone home after English; this was her shortest day. Hopefully she would be home by now. Vanja didn’t feel like calling to check; that would j
ust mean her parents would be ready with their line of defense. They got in the car and Vanja put her foot down, ignoring the speed limit.

  Chapter Eleven

  THEY DROVE in silence, which suited Vanja very well. She felt no compulsion whatsoever to get to know the partner who had been forced upon her, and hoped this would be a very temporary arrangement. She already knew Sebastian wouldn’t make small talk to pass the time. Ursula had called him a “social meltdown.” She had also said it was much better when he kept quiet. As soon as he opened his mouth he was crass, sexist, critical, or just plain nasty. As long as he kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t infuriate you.

  Just like Ursula, Vanja had been very annoyed when Torkel had introduced Sebastian and said that he would be working with them on this investigation. Not so much because it was Sebastian. True, she had heard more crap about him than the rest of the police service put together, but what bothered her most was that Torkel had made his decision without asking her. She knew he had no obligation to consult her on such matters, but even so… She felt as if they worked together so closely, and meant so much to each other in a professional capacity, that her views ought to be considered before a decision that would affect the entire team was made. Torkel was the best boss she had ever had, which was why she was so surprised when he made such major changes over her head. Over all their heads. Surprised and, to be honest, disappointed.

  “What are the names of her parents?”

  Vanja’s train of thought was interrupted. She turned to Sebastian, who hadn’t moved. He was still staring out of the side window.

  “Erik and Ann-Charlotte. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  “It was in the case folder you were given.”

  “I didn’t read it.”

  Vanja couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.

  “You didn’t read it?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you actually part of this investigation?”

  Vanja had been asking herself that question ever since she heard Torkel’s explanation of Sebastian’s presence, which had been vague, to say the least. Did he have some kind of hold over Torkel? No, that was impossible. Torkel would never jeopardize an investigation for personal reasons, whatever they might be. Sebastian’s answer came more quickly than she had expected.

  “You need me. You’ll never solve this without me.”

  Ursula was right. It was very easy to get annoyed with Sebastian Bergman.

  Vanja parked the car and switched off the engine. She turned to Sebastian before they got out.

  “One thing.”

  “What?”

  “We know she’s lying. We have proof. But I want her to talk. So we’re not going to go marching in and shove the evidence down her throat so that she doesn’t say a word. Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I know her. I’m leading. You keep quiet.”

  “Like I said, you’ll hardly even notice I’m there.” Vanja gave him a look that made it clear she was serious, then she got out of the car and headed for the house. Sebastian followed.

  Just as Vanja had hoped, Lisa was at home alone. She looked shocked when she saw Vanja and a strange man standing on the doorstep. She tried a few feeble excuses, but Vanja walked straight in uninvited; she had made her decision, particularly when she learned Lisa was alone.

  “It’ll only take a minute. We can talk in here.” Vanja led the way into the neat and tidy kitchen. Sebastian stayed in the background. He had greeted the girl pleasantly enough, then shut up. So far he was sticking to their agreement, Vanja was pleased to note. The truth was that he was incapable of speech at the moment. He had just spotted the bead picture of Jesus and was utterly dumbstruck. He had never seen anything like it.

  “Sit down.” Vanja thought she detected a slight change in the girl’s expression. She seemed more tired. She didn’t have the same defiant fire in her eyes; it was as if her defenses had begun to crack. Vanja tried to sound as amenable as possible. She didn’t want her words to seem aggressive.

  “Let me explain, Lisa. We have a problem. A big problem. We know Roger wasn’t here at nine o’clock that Friday evening. We know where he was, and we can prove it.” Was she imagining it, or had Lisa’s shoulders relaxed and dropped a fraction?

  But she didn’t say anything.

  Not yet.

  Vanja leaned forward and touched her hand, her tone softer now.

  “Lisa, you have to tell us the truth. I don’t know why you’re lying. But you can’t do it anymore. Not for our sake, but for your own.”

  “I want my parents here,” Lisa managed to say. Vanja kept her hand on the girl.

  “Is that what you really want? Do you really want them to know you’re lying?” For the first time Vanja saw that fleeting flicker of weakness that usually precedes the truth.

  “Roger was on Gustavsborgsgatan at five past nine. He was caught on CCTV. Gustavsborgsgatan is quite a way from here,” Vanja went on. “I should imagine your boyfriend left here at about quarter past eight. Half past at the latest. If he was here at all.”

  She didn’t go on. She looked at Lisa, whose expression was weary and resigned. All trace of defiance and teenage cockiness was gone. She just looked worried. A worried child.

  “They’ll be so angry,” she said eventually. “Mom and Dad.”

  “If they find out.” Vanja squeezed the girl’s hand, which seemed to be getting warmer and warmer as their conversation went on.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lisa said suddenly, and the forbidden words were the beginning of the end. Her defenses were down. She pulled away from Vanja and buried her face in her hands. She released a long, almost relieved sigh. Secrets are a heavy burden, and carrying them is a lonely business.

  “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

  “Sorry?”

  Lisa raised her head and her voice slightly.

  “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

  “No?”

  Lisa shook her head and turned away from Vanja. She gazed unseeingly into the distance. Out the window. As if she wished she could go there. Get away.

  “So what was he then? What were you up to?”

  Lisa shrugged her shoulders.

  “We weren’t up to anything. He was approved.”

  “What do you mean, ‘approved’?”

  Lisa turned her head and gazed wearily at Vanja. Didn’t she get it?

  “Approved by your parents, you mean?”

  Lisa dropped her hands and nodded.

  “I was allowed to go out with him. Or spend time alone with him at home. Although we always went out.”

  “But not together.”

  Lisa shook her head.

  “So you’ve got another boyfriend?” Lisa nodded again, and for the first time the look she gave Vanja was pure pleading. A girl whose life presumably consisted of being the perfect daughter, a mask that was about to slip off.

  “A boyfriend your parents don’t like?”

  “They’d kill me if they knew.”

  Vanja looked at the bead picture again. It meant something different now. I am the Way. Not if you’re sixteen years old and in love with the wrong boy.

  “You know we’re going to have to speak to this boy? But your parents don’t need to know, I promise.”

  Lisa nodded. She could no longer fight. The truth shall set you free, the youth leader at church always said whenever he got the chance. For a long time Lisa had included these words in the growing tissue of lies she had been forced to live by for so many years. But right now, at this particular moment, she realized they had to be recataloged. The truth shall set you free, and it shall make your parents fucking furious. No question. But at least it was the truth, and it did actually feel liberating.

  “What’s wrong with him? Too old? Criminal record? Drugs? Muslim?”

  The questions came from Sebastian. Vanja looked at him and his expression was apologetic. She nodded; it was okay.

  “There’s nothing wrong with
him,” said Lisa, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just that he’s not… all this.” Lisa’s small gesture encompassed not only the house but the entire area, the tidy gardens in front of the houses that were exactly the right size on the quiet street. Sebastian understood completely. He had been unable to analyze his own situation and express it in the same way when he was Lisa’s age, but he recognized the feeling. The security that became a prison. The care and consideration that became suffocating. The conventions that turned into chains.

  Vanja took her hand again. Lisa let her do it, or, to be more accurate, she seemed to want it.

  “Was Roger here at all?”

  Lisa nodded.

  “But only until a quarter past eight. Until we were absolutely sure Mom and Dad had gone.”

  “And where did he go then?”

  Lisa shook her head.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was he meeting someone?”

  “I think so. He usually did.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Roger never told me. He liked having secrets.”

  Sebastian looked at Lisa and Vanja, sitting close together at the spotless table and talking about an evening that had contained everything but Roger. The tidy kitchen reminded him of his own childhood home and those of all their neighbors, people who had been so happy to associate with his successful parents. To be honest, he felt as if he’d walked into a version of his own fucking upbringing. He had always fought against it. Seen the superficial maintenance of order and convention, never love or courage. Sebastian’s estimation of the girl sitting at the table was going up all the time. She could turn into something quite special. A secret lover at the age of sixteen. Her parents were going to have a lot of trouble with her when she was older. This cheered him up.

  They heard the front door open, and a voice shouted brightly from the hallway: “Lisa, we’re home!”

  Lisa pulled back her hand reflexively and stiffened in her chair. Vanja quickly pushed her card across.