Perhaps Ulrika’s behaviour in the bar contained one important element. A situation where she could make the decisions, where she was in control. Ulrika was so unused to acting on her own desires that she simply didn’t recognise herself.
It would be easy to think this was a case of dissociation. But dissociation doesn’t develop in teenagers, it’s a child’s defence mechanism.
This is more like confrontational behaviour, Sofia thinks, in the absence of a better description. A sort of cognitive self-therapy.
Sofia is aware that the girl was drugged in the hotel room, with something that paralysed her lower body and led to her becoming incontinent.
She realises that Ulrika’s condition, including possibly anorexia, self-loathing, relatively low-level alcoholism and a background of abusive and exploitative boyfriends, probably goes back to this one event seven years ago.
Everything is Karl Lundstr?m’s fault.
Ulrika suddenly turns even paler. ‘What’s that?’
Sofia doesn’t understand what she means. The girl’s gaze is fixed on something on the desk.
Five seconds’ silence. Then Ulrika gets up from her chair and picks up the printout from the document basket. The picture of Viggo Dürer.
Sofia doesn’t know how to react. Shit, she thinks. How could I be so thoughtless? ‘That’s Karl Lundstr?m’s lawyer’ is all she manages to say. ‘Have you met him?’
Ulrika looks, stares at the picture for a few seconds, then puts it down on the desk. ‘Oh, forget it. Never seen him before. I thought it was someone else.’ The girl tries to smile, but Sofia doesn’t find the result very convincing.
Ulrika Wendin has met Viggo Dürer.
Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
‘SO, WHAT DO we do about the daughter?’ Hurtig looks at Jeanette.
‘Obviously she’s of great interest to us. Find out as much as you can about her. Name, address and so on. Well, you know the sort of thing.’
Hurtig nods. ‘Shall I put out an alert for her?’
Jeanette considers. ‘No, not yet. Let’s hold off and see what we can find out about her.’ She gets up to go back to her office. ‘I’ll call von Kwist and suggest a meeting tomorrow, so we can find out what the hell happened.’
After a short call to the prosecutor to set up a meeting about the dropped investigation into P-O Silfverberg, Jeanette gets in her car to drive home.
Stockholm strikes her as greyer and wetter than ever. A city in black and white. On the horizon the clouds are breaking up, and between their shining edges she can see glimpses of blue sky. When she gets out of the car there’s a smell of earthworms and wet grass.
Johan is sitting in front of the television when Jeanette gets home just after five, and from what she can see in the kitchen it looks like he’s already eaten. She goes over to the sofa and kisses the top of his head.
‘Hello, darling. Had a good day?’
He shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t answer.
‘We’ve had a card from Grandma and Grandad. I left it on the kitchen table.’ He turns the volume up.
Jeanette goes back into the kitchen, picks up the postcard and looks at the picture. The Great Wall of China, tall mountains and a rolling green landscape. She reads the back. They’re fine, but missing home. The usual.
She clears the draining board and fills the dishwasher before going upstairs to have a shower.
When she comes back down, Johan has vanished into his room, and she can hear him playing one of his computer games.
She and ?ke had talked about stopping Johan playing the most violent games, but soon realised there was no point. All his friends have them, so a ban would have no effect at all. Have I been overprotective? she wonders, then suddenly gets an idea.
Which game has he been going on about recently? The one everyone apart from him has got? She goes into the kitchen and calls Hurtig.
‘Hi. Can I have your help with something?’
He sounds out of breath. ‘Sure. What with? Anything I need to look up?’
‘You could answer this in your sleep. What’s the most popular computer game right now?’
‘Assassin’s Creed,’ he replies instantly.
‘No.’
‘Counter-Strike?’
Jeanette recognises the name. ‘No, unless I’ve got this wrong, I don’t think it’s an action game.’
Hurtig is breathing hard down the line, then there’s the sound of a door closing. ‘You must be thinking of Spore?’ he eventually suggests.
‘Yep, that was it. Is it violent?’
‘That depends on how you choose to play, but there’s an evolutionary element where you have to develop your character from a tiny cell to master of the universe, and a bit of violence can come in handy now and then.’
The computer noises from Johan’s room go quiet, he opens the door, goes into the hall and starts putting his shoes on. Jeanette asks Hurtig to wait a moment while she asks Johan where he’s going, but the only answer she gets is the front door closing.
When he’s gone she smiles forlornly and picks up the phone. ‘I came home early today because I was worried Johan might have shut himself away in his room or disappeared to a friend’s. And since I got home he’s managed to do both.’
‘I understand,’ Hurtig says. ‘And now you want to surprise him?’
‘Yep. Forgive my ignorance, but if you lend me the game, could I copy it onto Johan’s computer and then give it back to you?’
Hurtig doesn’t answer straight away, and she imagines she can hear him chuckling.
‘OK,’ he finally says. ‘Let’s do it this way … I’ll come over now and install the game for Johan, so he gets a surprise this evening.’
‘You’re a good guy. If you haven’t eaten yet, I can offer you pizza?’
‘Thanks, that’d be great.’
‘What kind do you want?’
He laughs. ‘You could probably answer that in your sleep. What’s the most popular pizza these days?’
She gets the hint. ‘Proven?ale?’
‘No.’
‘Four Seasons?’
‘No, not that either,’ Hurtig says. ‘Nothing fancy.’
‘In that case, you probably mean Vesuvio?’
‘That’s the one! Vesuvius.’
A noise wakes Jeanette. She gets up from the sofa and sees the two empty pizza boxes on the table. Of course, she thinks. Hurtig came, we ate pizza, and I fell asleep while he was installing the game.
She can see a light from the doorway to Johan’s room, pads over and pushes the door open.
Hurtig and Johan are sitting at the computer with their backs to her, deeply absorbed in some sort of blue insect floating around on the screen.
They’re so immersed in the game that they don’t notice her.
‘Get it! Get it!’ Hurtig whispers with quiet insistence, slapping Johan on the back when the insect swallows up what looks like a hairy red spiral.
Jeanette’s first instinct is to ask what the hell they think they’re doing at four o’clock in the morning and send them to bed, but just as she opens her mouth she stops herself.
Forget it. Let them play.