If she had, then Linnea’s story would have been different.
The memories fade, like an ice cube melting faster the harder you hold it.
She looks at the notes again. The last three pages are Victoria’s words. Victoria Bergman, telling the story of Viggo Dürer and Linnea Lundstr?m.
… the bumps of his vertebrae are visible through his clothes even when he wears a suit. He forces Linnea to undress and play his games with his toys in her room where the door is always locked except once when Annette, unless it was Henrietta, interrupted them. She felt ashamed because she was half naked on the floor on all fours while he was fully clothed and said that the little girl wanted to show him she could do the splits and then they wanted her to do it again, and when she did the splits and then a backbend the pair of them clapped, even though it was actually really sick because she was twelve years old and had breasts almost like a grown-up …
Sofia recognises some of what Linnea had said, but the words are mixed up with Victoria’s memories. Even so, the text doesn’t wake up any new memories.
The lined page is covered with incoherent writing.
She dials the prosecutor’s number.
Prosecutor von Kwist briefly explains why he wanted to talk to her, about Karl Lundstr?m’s medication with benzodiazepines, and wonders what her opinion is.
‘It doesn’t make much difference. Even if Karl Lundstr?m said what he did under the influence of heavy medication, his story is ultimately corroborated by his daughter. She’s the important one now.’
‘Heavy medication.’ The prosecutor snorts. ‘Do you know what Xanor is?’ Sofia can hear the familiar masculine arrogance and feels herself starting to get angry.
She makes an effort to speak softly and slowly, and tries to sound pedagogical, as though she were talking to a child. ‘It’s generally accepted that patients who are prescribed Xanor for any length of time develop a dependency. Withdrawal is difficult, and however good someone feels when they take Xanor is matched by how bad they feel when it wears off. One of my clients described Xanor as a very quick ricochet between heaven and hell. That’s why it’s classified as a narcotic. Unfortunately, not all doctors choose to avail themselves of that knowledge.’
She hears the prosecutor take a deep breath. ‘Good, good. I can hear you’ve done your homework.’ He laughs and tries to smooth things over. ‘Well, I still can’t help thinking that what he said he did to his daughter isn’t right –’ He interrupts himself mid-sentence.
‘I don’t just believe that you’re wrong. I know you are.’ Sofia thinks about everything Linnea has said.
‘What do you mean? Have you got any evidence, apart from his daughter’s account?’
‘I’ve got a name. Linnea has mentioned a man called Viggo Dürer several times.’
As soon as Sofia mentions the lawyer’s name, she regrets having said it.
Glasbruksgatan – Silfverberg House
WHAT CAUGHT JEANETTE’S attention in Fredrika Grünewald’s tent was a bouquet of yellow tulips, and it wasn’t just the colour that made her react, but the card attached to one of the stems.
The clock in Katarina Church strikes six muffled chimes, and Jeanette suffers a pang of guilt once more because she’s still at work and not at home with Johan.
But after her discovery in Fredrika Grünewald’s tent it’s vital to keep up the momentum. That’s why she and Hurtig are now standing outside the Silfverberg family’s exclusive apartment. They’ve called to arrange a meeting.
Charlotte Silfverberg shows them into the living room. Jeanette goes over to the large picture window and gasps at the view. Straight ahead are the National Museum and the Grand H?tel. To the right is the sailing ship now used as a youth hostel, the af Chapman. She can’t imagine that there’s a more beautiful view of Stockholm from anywhere. Jeanette turns round and sees that Hurtig has already sat down in one of the armchairs.
‘I suspect this is going to be quick.’ Charlotte Silfverberg is standing next to the other armchair, with both hands on the back as if to keep her balance.
Jeanette sits down on the sofa. ‘To start with, I’d like to know why you didn’t tell me about your daughter.’ She says it as if in passing, then leans over to get her notepad. ‘Or, rather, your foster-daughter.’
Charlotte Silfverberg answers without hesitation. ‘Because she’s a closed chapter to me. She messed up once too often and is no longer welcome in this house.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll give you the short version.’ Charlotte Silfverberg takes a deep breath before going on. ‘Madeleine came to us as a baby. Her mother was very young and also suffered from severe mental illness, so wasn’t able to look after the child. So she came to us, and we loved her like she was our own. Yes, we carried on loving her even though she was so difficult throughout her childhood. She was often sick, whining all the time. I don’t know how many nights I sat up with her while she just screamed and screamed. She was simply inconsolable.’
‘And you never found out what was wrong with her?’ Hurtig leans forward and puts his hands on the coffee table.
‘What was there to find out? The girl was … well, how can I put it – damaged goods.’ Charlotte Silfverberg purses her lips, and Jeanette feels like punching the woman in the face.
Damaged goods.
Is that what it’s called these days when you treat a child so badly that it resorts to the only defence it’s got? Screaming.
Jeanette keeps her eyes fixed on the woman and is slightly scared by what she sees. Charlotte Silfverberg isn’t just a woman in mourning. She’s also a cruel person.
‘Well, she got older and started school. Daddy’s little girl. She and Per-Ola spent all the time they could together, and that’s what went wrong. A girl shouldn’t have such a close relationship to her father. She developed such a hero complex towards him that P-O felt it was time to set firm boundaries for her. I suppose she felt hurt, and started to make up all sorts of unkind things about him to get her own back.’
‘Unkind things?’ Jeanette can no longer restrain her anger. ‘For God’s sake, the girl said Per-Ola forced himself upon her.’
‘I’d prefer it if you could watch your language when you talk to me.’ Charlotte Silfverberg holds up both hands as if to fend her off. ‘I don’t wish to talk about this any further. End of discussion.’
‘I’m afraid we’re not quite finished yet.’ Jeanette puts her notebook down. ‘You have to realise that she is under suspicion for the murder of your husband.’
Only now does Charlotte Silfverberg seem to understand the seriousness of the situation, and nods mutely.