sat up straight. ‘She’s going to have to put that on hold for a while,’ he said. ‘We have enough to worry about without your wife running around and getting in the way. This is police business, not a matter for civilians who have neither the training nor the experience of the police force.’
Patrik had to stop himself from pointing out that Erica had been of far more help than Mellberg in solving their last few big cases. He knew it would do no good to insult Mellberg. His boss had the greatest faith in his own talents, albeit he was alone in that regard. Patrik had learned to work around him instead of with him. He also knew from experience that it would serve no purpose to tell Erica not to research the Stella case. Once she started poking around, she wouldn’t rest until all her questions were answered. But that wasn’t something he needed to tell his colleagues. He surmised that everyone other than Mellberg was well aware of this.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Erica. But she has already done a lot of research, so I was thinking we might use her as a resource. What would you think if I invited her over this afternoon so she could tell us what she knows about the case?’
‘I think that’s a brilliant idea,’ said Gösta. Everyone except Mellberg nodded agreement.
But Bertil knew when he was outnumbered and muttered: ‘I suppose that’s all right.’
‘Good. I’ll talk to her as soon as we finish the meeting,’ said Patrik. ‘Maybe you could add whatever details you do remember from the investigation, Gösta.’
Gösta nodded. His wry smile indicated there wasn’t much he’d be able to recall.
‘So, what else is on the list of things we need to do?’ asked Patrik.
‘The press conference,’ said Mellberg, looking more cheerful.
Patrik frowned but he knew he had to choose his battles. Mellberg would be allowed to handle the press conference. They would just have to cross their fingers that he didn’t manage to do any damage in the process.
‘Annika, could you call a press conference for this afternoon?’
‘Okay,’ she said, making a note of the request. ‘Before or after Erica has been here?’
‘Let’s do it before,’ said Patrik. ‘Preferably two o’clock. I’ll ask Erica to be here around three thirty.’
‘I’ll tell the reporters two o’clock. The phone has been ringing nonstop, so it’ll be nice to be able to tell them something.’
‘We all need to be aware that this is going to turn into a real media circus,’ said Patrik.
He shifted in his seat. Unlike Mellberg, who relished being in the spotlight, he viewed media interest as nothing more than a hindrance. Though on rare occasions media reports did lead to important tips from the public, more often than not the negative effects far outweighed the positive.
‘Don’t worry. Leave it to me,’ said Mellberg happily, leaning back in his chair. Ernst was once again draped over his feet under the table. Even though it must have been like wearing a pair of warm wool socks, Mellberg let him stay. Erica was fond of saying that Mellberg’s love for the big, shaggy dog was one of his few redeeming qualities.
‘Be sure to weigh every word you say,’ Patrik reminded him, fully aware that Mellberg usually allowed the words to spill out, free and uncensored, and without any thought for the consequences.
‘I have a lot of experience dealing with the press corps. During my days in Gothenburg—’
‘Great,’ Patrik cut in. ‘We’ll leave it to you then. Maybe you and I could do a brief run-through beforehand, discuss what we want to emphasize and what we should keep to ourselves. Okay?’
Mellberg huffed. ‘As I said, during my days in Gothenburg—’
‘How should we divide up the work?’ asked Martin, heading off Mellberg’s diatribe.
Patrik gave him a grateful look. ‘I’ll talk to Torbjörn and Pedersen and find out when we might expect to get more information from them.’
‘I’ll talk to Nea’s parents,’ said Gösta. ‘But I’ll give the doctor a call first to check how they’re doing.’
‘Do you want to take someone with you?’ asked Patrik. He could only imagine what Eva and Peter must be going through.
‘No, I can handle it alone. Better to use our resources on other things,’ said Gösta.
‘I can talk to the girls who were convicted of killing Stella,’ said Paula. ‘Or “women”, I suppose I should say. They’re not girls any more.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ said Martin, raising his hand like a schoolboy.
‘Good.’ Patrik nodded. ‘But wait until Erica has been here and given us more meat on the bone, so to speak. Use the time until then to knock on doors in the area around the farm. When people live in a remote spot like that, they tend to keep an eye out for anything unusual and any strangers who happen by. So it’s worth talking to the neighbours.’
‘Okay,’ said Paula. ‘We’ll drive out there and have a chat with the closest neighbours.’
‘I’ll hold the fort here,’ said Patrik. ‘The phone keeps ringing, and I want to review our plans for the investigation before the press conference.’
‘And I need to get ready,’ said Mellberg, reaching up to pat his hair in place.
‘All right. We’ve got a lot of work to do,’ said Patrik, signalling the meeting was over.
The small conference room was now unbearably stuffy and hot. He was desperate to get out of there, and he suspected his colleagues felt the same way.
The first thing he did was ring Erica. He wasn’t sure it was wise to let her get involved in the investigation, but as he saw it, he had no choice. On the other hand, it would be a real bonus if she had information that could help them find Nea’s killer.
The first kilometre was always tough, in spite of all the years she’d been running. But after that it got easier. Helen felt her body respond and her breathing became more regular.
She had started running as soon as the court hearing was over. The first day she ran five kilometres to rid her body of all the frustration. The pounding of her footsteps on the gravel, the wind blowing through her hair, the sounds all around her – those were the only things that could silence the rest of the world.
She ran a little further each time, and she got better and better. Over the years she’d run in more than thirty marathons. But only in Sweden. She dreamed of being in a marathon in New York, Sydney, or Rio, but she was grateful that James at least let her take part in the Swedish races.
The fact that she was allowed to cultivate this interest of hers, allowed to spend a couple of hours every day on her running, was solely because he appreciated the discipline of the sport. It was the only thing he respected about her – that every morning she ran tens of kilometres, that her psyche was able to conquer the limitations of her body. But she could never explain to anyone how, when she ran, everything that had happened was erased, becoming hazy and distant, nothing more than a dream she had once had.
In her peripheral vision she saw the house built on the site where Marie’s childhood home had once stood. By the time Helen returned to Fjällbacka, the new house was already there. Her parents chose to move away immediately after everything fell apart. Her mother, Harriet, couldn’t handle all the gossip, the surreptitious stares, and the whispering.
James and her father, KG, had seen each other often until KG died. Sometimes she and Sam would go along when James drove to Marstrand, but only so Sam could visit his grandparents. Helen had no wish to see either of her parents. They had failed her when she needed them most, and that was something she could never forgive.
Her legs were starting to tighten, and she reminded herself