‘Agneta’s husband is a high-powered politician. He was somehow able to ensure that Peter got new papers, and that he was acknowledged as their son.’
‘Did you work out the connection between the postmarks on the cards?’ asked Erica.
Laila looked at her in surprise and pulled her hand away. ‘No, it never occurred to me to look at them. I know only that I got a postcard every time someone disappeared, because a few days later a letter would arrive with newspaper clippings.’
‘Really? Where were the letters sent from?’ Erica couldn’t hide her surprise. She hadn’t known anything about this.
‘I have no clue. There was no return address, and I threw out the envelopes. But the address was stamped, not handwritten, just like on the postcards. And of course I was terrified. I knew that Peter’s whereabouts had been discovered, and he might be the next victim. I thought that was the only way to interpret the pictures on the postcards.’
‘I understand. But what about the newspaper clippings? How did you interpret them?’ Erica gave her an inquisitive look.
‘As I said, there was only one option. The Girl was alive and wanted to get revenge by taking Peter away from me. The newspaper clippings were her way of telling me what she was capable of doing.’
‘How long have you known that she was alive?’ asked Erica. She spoke the words quietly, but even so they seemed to echo in the room.
In those icy blue eyes staring at her, Erica saw all the secrets, sorrow, loss, and anger that had accumulated over the years.
‘Ever since she murdered my mother,’ said Laila.
‘But why did she do that?’ Erica was not taking notes as she listened. The important thing right now was not to gather material for her book. She wasn’t even sure whether she’d ever finish writing it.
‘Who knows?’ Laila shrugged. ‘Revenge? Because she wanted to? Because she took pleasure in killing her? I never understood what went on in her mind. She was a stranger, a creature who didn’t function like the rest of us.’
‘When did you notice that things weren’t right with her?’
‘Early on. Almost right from the beginning. Mothers can tell when things aren’t as they should be. But I’d never…’ She turned away, but Erica caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes.
‘Why…?’ Erica wasn’t sure what to say. These were difficult questions to ask, and no matter what the answers, she knew it would be hard for her to understand.
‘We made a mistake. I know that. But we had no idea how to deal with the situation. And Vladek came from a world with different customs and ideas.’ She gave Erica a pleading look. ‘He was a good person, but he was confronted with something he couldn’t handle. And I did nothing to stop him. Everything just got worse and worse. Our ignorance and fear took over, and I admit that in the end I hated her. I hated my own child.’ Laila stifled a sob.
‘How did you feel when you realized she was still alive?’ asked Erica cautiously.
‘I mourned when I heard that she’d died. Believe me, I really did, even though I might have been grieving for the daughter I never had.’ She met Erica’s eyes and took a deep breath. ‘But I mourned even more when I realized that in spite of everything she was still alive, and that she had killed my mother. The only thing I prayed for was that she wouldn’t take Peter away from me too.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
Laila shook her head. ‘No. For me, she’s just an evil shadow moving about out there.’ Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know?’
‘I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions.’
Erica placed the postcards on the table with the picture side down. ‘Take a look at this. These cards were all postmarked at places between the town where a girl disappeared and Fjällbacka. I noticed it when I marked all the locations on a map of Sweden.’
Laila looked at the postcards and nodded.
‘Okay. But what does it mean?’
Erica realized that she’d started at the wrong end. ‘Well, the police recently discovered that each time a girl was kidnapped, a jump-racing competition was being held in the town where she disappeared. Since Victoria disappeared on her way home from Jonas and Marta’s stable, they have always been a focus of the investigation. Now it turns out that riding competitions are the common denominator. And now that I’ve also discovered a link between the postmarks, I’ve started to wonder whether…’
‘What?’ said Laila tonelessly.
‘I’ll tell you, but before I do, I want to hear what happened on the day Vladek died.’
A long silence followed. But then Laila began to tell her story.
FJÄLLBACKA 1975
It was a day like all the others, just as dark and filled with hopelessness. Laila had spent another sleepless night, with the minutes slowly plodding towards morning.
The Girl had spent the night in the cellar. Laila no longer felt sad about putting her down there. She had abandoned all thought of trying to protect her. She had given up any notion that it was a mother’s duty to do everything for her child. Instead, she felt only relief that she no longer had to be afraid. Peter was the one that Laila needed to protect.
She had stopped worrying about her own injuries. The Girl could do whatever she liked to her. But the darkness in her daughter’s eyes when she succeeded in causing pain was far too frightening to ignore, and several times the Girl had injured Peter when she unexpectedly exploded in rage. He hadn’t known how to defend himself, and on one occasion she had pulled his arm out of the socket. Whimpering and terrified, he had hugged his arm to his body, and they’d been forced to take him to the hospital. On the following day Laila had found knives under his bed.
It was then that Vladek had finally crossed the boundary. Suddenly the chain and shackles appeared in the cellar. She hadn’t heard him working down there, hadn’t realized that he’d found a way for them to sleep securely at night and have some peace during the day. He said it was the only solution. It wasn’t good enough to lock the Girl in her bedroom, and she needed to understand that what she did was wrong. They couldn’t handle her fury, those unpredictable outbursts, and the bigger and stronger she got, the worse the injuries she’d be able to inflict. Even though Laila knew it was madness, she hadn’t felt able to object.
The Girl had protested at first. She screamed and hit her father, scratching his face as he stoically carried her down to the cellar and put on the shackles fastened to the chain. Vladek had treated his wounds with antiseptic cream and bandaged them as best he could. To his customers he’d said that the cat had scratched him. No one questioned his explanation.
Finally the Girl had resigned herself to the situation and stopped resisting. Listlessly she submitted to being chained. If they had to leave her there for a long time, they would put food and water in bowls, as if feeding an animal. And that was how they had to treat her as long as she continued to enjoy causing pain and was fascinated by blood and screams. When she wasn’t in the cellar or in her bedroom, she had to be constantly watched. And most often it was Vladek who did that. Even though the Girl was small, she was already very strong and quick, and he didn’t trust that Laila would be able to control her. Nor did she. So Vladek would watch the Girl while she took care of Peter.
On that morning everything went wrong. Vladek had also found it hard to sleep in the night. The moon had been full, and hour after hour he had lain awake beside Laila, staring up at the ceiling. When they finally got up, he was feeling cross and exhausted. It turned out there was no milk left, and since Peter refused to eat anything but oatmeal and milk for breakfast, Laila put him in the car and drove over to the Konsum supermarket.