A taser, Jeanette Kihlberg thought. Someone’s seriously out of control.
The boy who had been found hanged in the Monument block was called Samuel Bai; he was sixteen years old, and had been reported missing after running away from home. Social services in H?sselby had forwarded his case notes, detailing instances of drug abuse, theft and violence.
His parents had fled the war in Sierra Leone and had been the subject of numerous investigations. The family’s biggest problem had been the eldest son, Samuel, who showed signs of trauma from the war, and who had at intervals been treated at the centre for childhood psychiatry on Maria Pr?stg?rdsgata, as well as by a private therapist named Sofia Zetterlund.
Jeanette started. Sofia again. First Lundstr?m, and now Samuel Bai. If the world was a small place, then Stockholm was even smaller.
Odd that her name keeps cropping up, Jeanette thought. But maybe not. The Swedish police could muster all of five officers specialising in sex crimes against children. How many psychologists specialised in traumatised children?
Two or three, maybe.
She picked up the phone and dialled Sofia Zetterlund’s number.
‘Hello, Sofia, Jeanette Kihlberg again. This time I’m calling about Samuel Bai from Sierra Leone. You treated him, I understand. He’s been found dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes. Murdered. Can we meet this afternoon?’
‘You can come straight away. I was on my way home, but I can wait.’
‘OK, see you soon. I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.’
Mariatorget – Sofia Zetterlund’s Office
JEANETTE HAD TO drive around the streets of Mariatorget twice before finding somewhere to park.
She took the lift up and was met by a woman who introduced herself as Ann-Britt, Sofia’s secretary.
Jeanette explained why she was there, and while the woman went to get Sofia she looked around the room. The exclusive decor, with its genuine artworks and obviously expensive furniture, made her think that this was what you should be doing if you wanted to make serious money. Not sitting on Kungsholmen working like a slave.
The secretary returned with Sofia, who asked if Jeanette would like a drink.
‘No, I’m fine. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, so maybe we should get down to it straight away.’
‘It’s really not a problem,’ Sofia said. ‘I’m happy to help if I can. It feels good to be useful.’
Jeanette looked at Sofia, and felt instinctively that she liked her. During their previous meeting there had been a distance between them, but now, after just a minute or so, Jeanette detected real warmth in Sofia’s eyes.
‘I’ll try to avoid making any Freudian slips,’ Jeanette joked.
Sofia smiled back. ‘That’s sweet of you.’
Jeanette didn’t understand how it had happened, or where the intimate tone came from, but it was there. She let it sink in, enjoying it for a moment.
In Sofia’s office they sat down on either side of the desk and looked at each other curiously. There was something about Sofia that felt different from the last time they’d met. She’s attractive, Jeanette admitted quietly to herself, before shrugging the thought aside.
‘So, what would you like to know?’ Sofia asked.
‘I’m here because of Samuel Bai and … well, he’s dead. He was found hanged in an attic.’
‘Suicide?’ Sofia asked.
‘No, not at all. He was murdered, and –’
‘But you just said –’
‘I know. But he was strung up by someone else. Possibly in a failed attempt to make it look like suicide, but … actually, no, it wasn’t an attempt to hide the fact that it was murder.’
‘I’m not sure I’m with you now. Either it was suicide, or it wasn’t.’ Sofia shook her head in confusion and lit a cigarette.
‘I think we can skip the details. Samuel was murdered. That’s all. Maybe we could discuss that on another occasion, but right now I need to know a bit more about him. Anything that can give me an idea of who he was.’
‘OK. But, more specifically, what do you want to know?’
She could tell that Sofia was disappointed, but there was no time to explain all the details.
‘To start with, how did you come to meet him?’
‘I’m not actually trained in child psychology, but I worked in Sierra Leone and that was why we made an exception.’
‘OK, that sounds pretty heavy,’ Jeanette said sympathetically. ‘You said we? There were other people involved in the decision?’
‘Yes, I was asked by social services in H?sselby if I would consider taking on Samuel’s case. He’s from Sierra Leone, of course, but you probably already know that?’
‘We do.’ Jeanette thought for a moment before she went on. ‘What do you know about his experiences down in …’
‘Freetown,’ Sofia added. ‘Among other things, he told me he was part of a criminal gang, and used to make his living from robberies and break-ins. Every so often they’d frighten the life out of people on the orders of some local mafia boss.’ Sofia paused for breath. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Sierra Leone is a country in total chaos. Paramilitary groups use children to carry out tasks that adults can barely imagine doing. Children are easily led, and …’
Jeanette noticed that Sofia was finding this a difficult subject to talk about, but didn’t try to help. However much she would have liked to spare Sofia, she needed to know more.
‘How old was Samuel then?’
‘He told me he first killed someone when he was seven. By the time he was ten he’d lost count of how many people he’d murdered and raped. All under the influence of hash or alcohol.’
‘God, that’s awful. What the hell has humanity come to?’
‘Not humanity. Just men … you can strike everyone else off the list.’
They sat in silence, and Jeanette wondered what Sofia herself might have been through during her time in Africa. She was having trouble imagining her there. Those shoes, that hair.
She was so clean.
‘Do you mind if I bum one?’ Jeanette pointed at the packet of cigarettes on the desk next to the phone.
Sofia slowly pushed the pack over and looked Jeanette in the eye as she did so. She put the ashtray in the middle of the desk between them.
‘For Samuel, the readjustment it took to live in Swedish society was extremely difficult, and he had problems adjusting from day one.’
‘Well, who wouldn’t?’ She was thinking about Johan, who had had his own problems with concentration. And he hadn’t been through anything even close to what Samuel had experienced.
‘No, quite.’ Sofia nodded. ‘He had trouble sitting still at school. He was noisy and disruptive. On more than one occasion he got angry and violent because he felt insulted or misunderstood.’