The Crow Girl

In other words, her conversations with him were being dismissed as useless.

The district court had just seen a pathetic, confused man, but Sofia had realised that what Karl Lundstr?m had told her wasn’t concocted under the influence of any drug.

Karl Lundstr?m’s view was that only he could see the truth. He was convinced that strength was what mattered, and, by extension, justified his own privilege to abuse weaker individuals. He had a very high regard for his own character, was proud of it.

She remembered what he had said.

It had been one long self-justification.

‘I don’t consider what I’ve done to be wrong,’ he had said. ‘It’s only wrong in today’s society. Your morality is sullied. The urge is ancient. The word of God doesn’t forbid incest. All men have the same desires as me, an ancient urge that comes down to gender. It was expressed long ago in pentameter form. I am God’s creation and am acting on the mission He has given me.’

Moral-philosophical and quasi-religious excuses.

She could only conclude that Karl Lundstr?m’s belief in his own greatness made him an extremely dangerous person.

One who believes himself to be highly intelligent.

And shows a severe lack of empathy.

Karl Lundstr?m’s skill at manipulation would probably mean that after a while he’d end up on day release from S?ter or some other secure psychiatric unit, and every moment he spent at liberty would put other people in danger.

She made up her mind to call Detective Superintendent Jeanette Kihlberg.

In this case it was her duty to ignore legal niceties.

Jeanette Kihlberg sounded extremely surprised when Sofia explained that she wanted to book a meeting to tell her what she knew about Karl Lundstr?m.

‘How come you’ve changed your mind?’

‘I don’t know if there’s any connection to your case, but I think Lundstr?m might be involved in something bigger. Has Mikkelsen followed up Lundstr?m’s story about Anders Wikstr?m and the video recordings?’

‘As far as I’m aware, they’re looking into it right now. But Mikkelsen believes that Anders Wikstr?m is a product of Lundstr?m’s imagination, and that they aren’t going to find anything. I understand that you were invited to give a recommendation? He certainly seems to be sick.’

‘Yes, but not sick enough to be able to abdicate responsibility for what he’s done.’

‘No? OK … But isn’t there a sliding scale for illness?’

‘Yes, with a range of punishments.’

‘Which means that someone can have sick values and be punished for them?’ Jeanette said.

‘Exactly. But the punishment has to be suited to the perpetrator, and in this particular case I recommended imprisonment. It’s my belief that Lundstr?m can’t be helped by psychiatric treatment.’

‘I agree,’ Jeanette said. ‘But what do you make of the fact that he may have been under the influence of medication?’

Sofia smiled. ‘From what I’ve read, the dose wasn’t high enough to make any decisive difference. We’re talking about very small doses of Xanor.’

‘The same drug that Thomas Quick was given.’

‘Yes, but Quick’s dosage was of an entirely different order.’

‘So you don’t think I should let that worry me?’

‘Exactly. I think it would be worth questioning Lundstr?m about the dead boys. A draught from one open door can sometimes push another one open.’

Jeanette laughed.

‘The draught from an open door?’

‘Yes. If what he’s said about buying a child has a grain of truth in it, maybe there’s more you could find out from him.’

‘I see. Well, thanks for taking the time to call.’

‘Don’t mention it. When can we meet up?’

‘I’ll call tomorrow morning, and we can meet over lunch. Does that sound OK?’

‘That sounds fine.’

They hung up, and Sofia looked out the window. The sun was shining.





Monument – Mikael’s Apartment


THAT EVENING IT started to rain, and everything suddenly looked dirtier. Sofia Zetterlund packed up her things and left her office.

If the weather was a disaster, then her dinner with Mikael wasn’t far behind. She had made a genuine effort, since this was going to be their last meal together for a while. Mikael had been invited to work at his firm’s head office in Germany and was going to be away for a couple of months. But after some desultory conversation he had fallen asleep on the sofa after the dessert Sofia had spent almost an hour and a half making, carrot cake with cheese curd and raisins, and, as she stood at the sink rinsing their glasses to the sound of his snoring from the living room, she had to admit that she wasn’t happy.

Things weren’t going well at work. She was annoyed with everyone involved in the Lundstr?m case. Social workers, psychologists and the forensic psychiatrist. And she was annoyed with her patients at the practice. At least she wouldn’t have to see Carolina Glanz for a while, seeing as she’d cancelled her latest appointments and Sofia knew from the evening tabloids that she was making her living these days from performing in erotic films.

Victoria Bergman was no longer coming to see her either. That felt like a loss. Now her days were filled with coaching company bosses in leadership skills and giving presentations. Most of it was routine stuff, and required practically no preparation at all. But when it came down to it, this was so incredibly dull that she was starting to wonder if it was worth doing.

She decided to give up on the rest of the cleaning and went into the study instead with a cup of coffee, and switched on the computer. She took her memory stick from her bag and put it on the table.

Victoria Bergman was struggling with a little girl who gave every appearance of being her younger self.

Had a single event had a decisive impact?

Victoria kept returning to one particular incident in her first year at high school, but Sofia still didn’t know exactly what it was, since Victoria always rushed her narrative when she got to that part.

But it could also be more than one single event. A feeling of exposure that had lasted years, possibly throughout her entire childhood.

Being a pariah, being the weaker party?

Sofia was inclined to believe that Victoria detested weakness.

She leafed through to a fresh page and made a mental note always to have her notepad in front of her when she listened to their recorded conversations.

She saw from the label on the tape that this particular conversation had taken place scarcely a month before.

Victoria’s dry voice:

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