The Disappeared (40 page)

Peder knew. It had been impossible to get Jimmy to bed even when he was a little boy. He wanted to be awake all the time; he was afraid he might miss some fun if he went to bed before everybody else.

The manageress carried on talking, telling Peder things he had already heard the previous evening.

‘The only thing missing was his jacket. And the patio door was open when we came in, so we think he must have gone out that way.’

Peder could understand that, but he just couldn’t work out where his brother had gone. He could count on the fingers of one hand the times when Jimmy had gone off on his own.

A missing jacket, an open door.

Where did you go, Jimmy?

Peder looked out of the window.

‘Who lives in the building opposite?’ he asked.

He thought back once again to what Jimmy had said; he had seen a man looking in through someone’s window.

‘That’s part of the care home,’ the manageress said.

‘Is it private?’

‘Yes, they just take a few elderly residents each year. I’ve heard there’s a long waiting list to get in.’

Peder looked at the row of small patios on the other side of the lawn. Where could the man Jimmy had seen have been standing? An elderly woman caught Peder’s eye. She was so pale and unremarkable that he almost didn’t notice her. It looked as if she was gazing straight into Jimmy’s room, straight at Peder.

There was something familiar about her.

‘Who’s she?’ Peder asked, pointing at the woman.

‘She’s one of the more eccentric residents,’ said the manageress. ‘She used to write children’s books. Her name is Thea Aldrin. Have you heard of her?’

Valter Lund was waiting in reception at the appointed time. In his dark suit and white shirt he looked just like any other businessman. Fredrika observed him through the glass door before she went out to collect him. She looked at his open, confident expression, his friendly smile. Shoulders relaxed, legs crossed, hands resting in his lap.

Was it you who murdered Rebecca, dismembered her body and put it in bags, then carried her through the forest?

He had no legal representative with him, which surprised Fredrika. His handshake was warm, his voice deep as he said hello. In another time, another life, Fredrika would have found him attractive.

Alex joined her for the interview; he and Fredrika sat down opposite Valter Lund. The time was approximately half-past nine.

‘Thank you for taking the time to come in,’ Alex began.

Almost suggesting that attendance at a police interview was voluntary.

‘Naturally, I want to help in any way I can.’

‘Rebecca Trolle,’ Alex said.

‘Yes?’

‘You knew her.’

‘I was her mentor.’

‘Was that your only connection or relationship with her?’

Fredrika hoped her surprise at Alex’s direct approach so early in the proceedings didn’t show in her face.

‘I don’t think I understand the question.’

‘We’re wondering whether you spent time together for any other reason, apart from the fact that you were her mentor.’

‘We did, yes.’

The interview was stopped in its tracks before it had even got going. Fredrika knew she wasn’t the only one who was stunned by Valter Lund’s honesty; Alex was also surprised. He couldn’t hold back a wry smile.

‘Could you tell us more?’

Valter Lund ran his hand over the surface of the desk.

‘Absolutely. But I would like an assurance that any information I give you will be dealt with discreetly.’

‘It’s very difficult to give such an assurance when I don’t know what you’re going to say.’

‘I understand.’

Fredrika cleared her throat.

‘As long as what you tell us has no relevance as far as our inquiry is concerned, then of course we can ensure that it is not made public along with the documentation relating to the preliminary investigation.’

That seemed to satisfy Valter Lund.

‘We had a brief relationship,’ he said.

‘You and Rebecca?’ Fredrika asked.

‘We realised almost immediately that there was a mutual attraction. One thing led to another, and in December 2006, I asked her out. We carried on meeting discreetly until the beginning of January, when I decided that we couldn’t carry on.’

‘So it really was a brief relationship.’

‘Indeed.’

‘You took her to Copenhagen,’ Alex said.

‘That’s true. That was after we’d broken up. We slept in separate rooms at the hotel, and took different flights to Kastrup. Unfortunately, I realised that Rebecca thought the trip was an attempt to rekindle the relationship on my part. She was terribly disappointed when I explained that wasn’t the case.’

Valter Lund’s voice filled the room, and his entire being radiated calm stability. He owned the interview in a way Fredrika found fascinating.

‘It’s hardly surprising that she misunderstood an invitation of that kind,’ Alex said. ‘My God, a romantic weekend in Copenhagen could make anyone go weak at the knees.’

Lund had to smile.

‘Naturally, I realised I had made a mistake. I knew she was upset because I’d finished with her, and I wanted to prove that I still took my role as mentor very seriously. It was stupid of me to think she would understand the difference from the way I behaved.’

‘What happened after Copenhagen?’

‘Not much. She called me a few times and we decided we would meet up one evening, but it never happened.’

‘Because she went missing?’

‘Yes.’

Alex looked down at his scarred hands, then glanced over at Fredrika.

‘You were considerably older than Rebecca,’ he said.

Over twenty years, Fredrika worked out. The same as the age difference between her and Spencer.

‘And that was definitely a contributory factor in my decision to stop seeing her. We had nothing in common.’

He spoke as if this was something simple and self-evident, but Fredrika knew that Rebecca must have seen things very differently, and fallen apart.

That’s what I would have done.

‘Did you tell anyone about your affair?’ Alex said.

‘No.’

‘Did she?’ Fredrika asked.

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Did you know she was pregnant?’

Alex’s question remained hanging in the air. For the first time Fredrika could see that they had said something that had not been part of Valter Lund’s calculations from the start.

‘Pregnant?’

He whispered the word. He quickly passed a hand over his forehead, then lowered it again.

‘My God.’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘No. No, definitely not.’

‘But the child could have been yours?’

They knew this wasn’t the case, but Fredrika asked anyway.

‘I doubt it. She said she was on the pill.’

Valter Lund suddenly looked smaller, and genuinely upset.

‘She was so very young,’ he said quietly.

Alex gave him a moment to recover.

‘Did you discuss her dissertation?’ he said eventually.

‘No.’

Lund quickly recovered his composure; gone was the grief and the shock.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Well, obviously I knew what she was working on, but I didn’t feel I had anything to offer when it came to that particular topic.’

‘We have reason to believe that she may have wanted to talk to Morgan Axberger about her dissertation. Did she ask you for help in arranging a meeting with him?’

‘No.’

‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’

‘One hundred per cent. I would have remembered.’

‘Did you ever discuss Axberger with Rebecca?’

‘Only superficially. She wasn’t really interested in my work.’

Alex broke in.

‘Did you attend the mentors’ event that took place on the night she disappeared?’

‘Yes.’

For the first time, Valter Lund looked genuinely concerned.

‘Were you surprised when Rebecca didn’t turn up?’

‘Of course. I was there mainly for her sake, after all.’

Lund thought for a long time; he looked as if he were considering whether or not to say more.

‘The thing is,’ he began, ‘something happened that day, but I didn’t mention before. Or to put it more accurately, something I didn’t think was of any significance.’

He ran his hand over the surface of the desk once more.

‘Bearing in mind your interest in Morgan Axberger: I was just about to leave for the mentors’ dinner and I went along to Morgan’s office to speak to him. He was standing there talking to someone on his mobile. As I drew closer I heard him say something along the lines of, “Make sure you’re there at quarter to eight, and I’ll meet you at the bus stop. I know a place nearby where we can talk”.’

Valter Lund spread his hands wide.

‘I’m not at all sure this is relevant; I mean, he could have been speaking to anyone. About anything. But . . . deep down, I’ve always been afraid that Rebecca was on the other end of the phone, just because the time he mentioned fitted in perfectly with the time she went missing. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.’

Fredrika tried to work out the significance of what she had just heard. Had Morgan Axberger called Rebecca before the dinner and arranged a meeting? There had been an unidentified call on the list. Someone had rung Rebecca just before she left home.

Was that person Morgan Axberger?

If that was the case, then Rebecca must have tried to get in touch with him without involving Valter Lund. How had she managed that?

They brought the interview to a close. They would check on what Lund had told them, but Fredrika didn’t expect to find any inconsistencies. It was obvious that he had agreed to speak to the police in order to eliminate himself from their inquiries, and Fredrika thought he had succeeded in his aim. Morgan Axberger, on the other hand . . . Fredrika wanted to talk to him right away.

They said goodbye at the glass doors leading to reception.

‘Just one more question,’ Fredrika said.

He turned back.

‘Your uncle,’ she said. ‘Your mother’s brother. Do you see much of him?’

He looked blank.

‘My uncle? I don’t have an uncle. My mother was an only child.’

Clouds in the sky, no sunshine. Suddenly the night seemed far away, almost completely overshadowed by the events of the morning. Alex felt at peace, grateful to have put some distance between himself and what had happened. He was convinced that it had all happened too fast. One look at Lena’s photograph, and he was plagued by a guilty conscience.

I’ll always love you, I’ll never leave you.

Ellen came in and confirmed that Rebecca Trolle had been in touch with the police in the weeks leading up to her disappearance. Because her calls had come via the switchboard, it was impossible to say who she had spoken to. But Alex thought he knew anyway.

Torbjörn Ross.

The question was, where had she got his name from? Ross had been a young man at the time of Thea Aldrin’s trial, a peripheral figure in a major police investigation. Rebecca must have gone to the archive department, asked to see the original case notes and found Ross’s name among the rest. Perhaps she had made a list of all the officers involved in the case; perhaps Ross was the only one who was still a serving officer.

Or perhaps she had got the name when she went to see Thea Aldrin, since Ross was still visiting her in the hope that he would be able to solve another crime. But who would have told her? Thea Aldrin never spoke, and why would Rebecca have asked the staff about the old woman’s visitors?

‘There’s some material missing,’ Fredrika said.

Alex gave a start when he heard her voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Rebecca was very meticulous when it came to making notes on anything to do with her dissertation. But I can’t find a single bloody word about either her visit to Thea Aldrin or her contact with the police. And I think we can safely say she had been in touch with the police, because I’ve gone through all her material over and over again, and there is absolutely no mention of the snuff movie. She got that information from elsewhere.’

Her voice was so strained that Alex had to make a real effort to hear what she was saying.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Bloody awful. If you’ll pardon my language.’

Alex had to smile. Fredrika sat down.

‘I don’t know what to do with myself.’

‘It’ll all work out.’

He didn’t know that, of course, but he thought everything would be fine. Spencer Lagergren wouldn’t be convicted of rape if the only evidence was a statement by a disgruntled student. If that really was the only evidence. He hoped it was.

‘He’s more fragile than you might think,’ Fredrika said. ‘I don’t know how much longer he can cope with being locked up.’

‘They’ll let him go by tomorrow at the latest,’ Alex reassured her. ‘They can’t justify holding him for any longer than that.’

‘The passport.’

‘The passport is irrelevant, because he went to get a new one for a completely different reason, didn’t he?’

Fredrika managed a wan smile.

‘Yes, but it wasn’t exactly a better reason.’

‘Doesn’t matter. We have to take some of the blame for that; we didn’t handle that part of the inquiry particularly well.’

Alex changed the subject.

‘Rebecca Trolle. You thought she’d been in touch with the police, and the list of calls confirms that.’

‘And I also think someone has removed papers from among Rebecca’s belongings. Information she got from the police.’

Alex linked his hands behind his head.

‘Let’s assume you’re right. What kind of notes do you end up with when you interview a woman who refuses to speak?’

‘Nothing much, I’d say. But I’m sure she would have jotted down a line or two.’

Fredrika was probably right. Alex decided to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

‘Morgan Axberger,’ he said.

A small smile played around Fredrika’s lips.

‘He could have been involved. At least he could have been the reason why she got on the wrong bus. If it was Rebecca he was speaking to on the phone, of course.’

‘We need to talk to him,’ Alex said. ‘Sort this out.’