And then of course there’s the big question: who asked Tomas to start the fire in the dance hall? Who did he mean when he wrote ‘we’ in his letter?
Was it Milla – still the most logical answer – or could it have been one of Iben’s brothers?
Laura is so absorbed in the puzzle that she doesn’t notice someone come into the café. She doesn’t look up until that person is standing right next to her table. She inhales sharply as she meets Ulf Jensen’s gaze.
‘So, little Laura. I hear you’ve been out and about. Talked to the council, laid down certain conditions.’
He pulls out a chair and sits down opposite her.
‘I thought we were good friends, you and I,’ he goes on. ‘I almost regarded you as a daughter. And then you go behind my back with Peter Larsson, that little cuckold who couldn’t even keep his own wife in order.’
His false teeth look like gravestones in his face. The smile infuriates her. So do his words.
‘And what about you?’ she says. ‘Could you keep Sofia in order? Because I heard that she set fire to the farm because she didn’t want to live with you.’
The comment has a greater effect than she’d expected. Ulf’s expression darkens, his jaw tightens – but he doesn’t take the bait.
‘Do you really believe,’ he says after a few seconds, ‘that the council would use another contractor? After all I’ve done for this community? All the medals, all the newspaper articles. Not to mention all the terraces and conservatories the boys have built, all the kitchens and bathrooms we’ve renovated.’ He lets out a bark of laughter. ‘There isn’t a single councillor who hasn’t slipped me an envelope stuffed with cash for a job done. They owe me, all of them. So do you, Laura!’
He clenches his fist, then points a gnarled index finger at her.
‘You and the others cost my little Iben her life. The least you can do is help me to save the farm where she grew up.’
‘You mean the farm where you abused her?’
The words just come out, without passing through her brain.
Ulf’s lips are white. He clenches both fists, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to attack her.
‘I loved Iben,’ he hisses when he’s regained the power of speech. ‘I loved her more than life itself, and I won’t let anyone say anything different – do you hear me?’
Saliva sprays across the table.
Laura calmly picks up her phone, searches for the sound file Lelle gave her. She is looking forward to throwing Iben’s words in his lying, hypocritical fucking face. But she can’t find it. It takes her a little while to work out why.
The file is gone.
Ulf slowly gets to his feet, looking a little more self-assured.
‘Now be a good girl and sign that contract with the council,’ he says, making an effort to remain calm. ‘As I said, it’s the least you can do for me and our little Iben. And do it soon, before something bad happens.’
55
Laura remains at the table, trying to make sense of what just happened. The fact that someone in the council offices told Ulf Jensen about the meeting with Kjell Green is bad enough, along with the fact that he’s just threatened her. But the disappearance of the file containing Iben’s terrible cry for help can have only one explanation.
A very unpleasant explanation.
During the past twenty-four hours, someone has deleted it from her phone.
Which leads to three questions: when, who, and most important of all – why?
There have been several occasions since the visit to the sound studio when she hasn’t exactly kept an eye on her phone. She dropped it in Heinz Norell’s car when Steph came to pick her up, it was in her jacket pocket when she was at Peter’s, and then there was last night – she doesn’t even remember how she got to bed, or if she was the one who put the phone on charge.
Plenty of opportunities, all possible answers to the question of when.
The phone is locked, of course, but anyone could have watched her when she unlocked it and memorised the code. Or simply taken it before it was locked.
If she moves on to who, the list is equally long: Heinz Norell, Elsa and Peter Larsson, Erica von Thurn. But why would Peter delete a sound file he’d helped her to access? On the other hand, he hadn’t known it was Iben’s voice on the tape until they’d listened to it together. Elsa can’t really be a suspect, even though she did poke around in Laura’s pockets.
After a little thought she realises that it’s not possible to exclude an unknown person. She swam for almost an hour this morning, leaving her phone in the unlocked cupboard in the changing room at the pool house.
Which leaves the third question: why?
Why would someone want to delete the file in which Iben accuses her father of abuse, from beyond the grave?
In order to protect Ulf Jensen – that seems the most likely explanation, making him, Christian and Fredrik the main suspects.
But Peter still has the original tape, and a digital copy of his own on a USB stick.
She calls him, says she’s accidentally deleted the file and asks about his copy.
‘Everything’s at the office, but I’m not in Vedarp at the moment. Can it wait until tomorrow? Or this evening at least?’
He sounds stressed, and she reluctantly agrees.
She thinks back to Steph’s note and decides to head for the nearest shopping centre and look for a dress.
During the drive she goes over what Ulf Jensen said – that he has such a hold over so many of the local councillors that they will never give anyone else the contract for Gärdsnäset. If that’s true, and she has no reason to doubt it, then she will just have to sell to the castle and let Erica, Pontus and Heinz transform Gärdsnäset into a rich man’s enclave. Elsa will never speak to her again. Why does she care about that? Why does she care what a teenage girl and possibly her father might think of her?
Another good question, which doesn’t have a good answer.
Or does it? She likes Elsa, recognises something of herself in the girl – that’s all there is to it.
So she can’t sell to the council because of Ulf Jensen, and she can’t sell to the castle if she wants to continue to have a relationship with Peter and Elsa.
Where does that leave her?
There is a third option, of course: to hang onto Gärdsnäset for the time being, until she can come up with a solution to the problem.
On the way back to the castle she decides to call in and check that George has enough food. A small part of her actually misses the warmth of that little furry body, and the reassuring sound of purring at the foot of the bed.
It’s dark by the time she reaches the holiday village. The remains of the archway and the dilapidated snow-covered cabins look even sadder than they did a few days ago, if that were possible.
Her car is still parked next to Hedda’s house where she left it, but as she approaches she sees something written in large letters on one side.
Sell up and fuck off!
She slams on the brakes. Her initial impulse is to turn the car around and drive away, but instead she gets out, leaving the engine running and the lights on. Some of the crows croak a warning, as if they sense her unease, know that something horrible has happened.
The words are written using some kind of dark red, sticky substance that has trickled down the car doors before the frost stopped it.
She edges closer. There is a dark bundle on the windscreen. A familiar stench turns her stomach. Hair, soot, burned flesh.
She stops by the bonnet, stares at the bundle, glimpses a bare tail, speckled grey charred fur, glassy eyes staring blankly at her.
‘George!’
She collapses behind the nearest tree trunk and throws up onto the snow.