The Lost Boy

CAMILLA LACKBERG
The Lost Boy

Translated from the Swedish by Tiina Nunnally

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013

Copyright © Camilla Lackberg 2009

Published by agreement with Nordin Agency, Sweden

Translation copyright © Tiina Nunnally 2013

Jacket layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2012; Jacket photographs © Clayton Bastiani/Trevillion Images (boy, beach and sea); Chad Ehlers/Getty Images (lighthouse and rocks); Shutterstock.com (sky).

First published in Swedish as Fyrvaktaren

Camilla Lackberg asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Source ISBN: 9780007473212

Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007419562

Version: 2017-05-19

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

For Charlie

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Fjällbacka 1870

Chapter 2

Fjällbacka 1870

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Fjällbacka 1870

Chapter 6

Fjällbacka 1870

Chapter 7

Fjällbacka 1870

Chapter 8

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 9

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 10

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 13

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 14

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 15

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 16

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 17

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 18

Fjällbacka 1871

Chapter 19

Fjällbacka 1873

Chapter 20

Fjällbacka 1875

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Fjällbacka 1875

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Camilla Lackberg

By the same author

About the Publisher

1

It was only when she placed her hands on the steering wheel that she saw they were bloody. Her palms felt sticky against the leather. But she ignored the blood as she shifted into reverse and a bit too hastily backed out of the driveway. She heard the gravel spray out from under the tyres.

They had a long drive ahead of them. She cast a glance at the back seat. Sam was asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. He really ought to be strapped in with a seat belt, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. She would just have to drive as carefully as possible. Immediately she let up on the accelerator.

The summer night had already started to brighten. At this time of year the hours of darkness were practically over before they even began. And yet this night seemed endless. Everything had changed. Fredrik’s brown eyes had stared rigidly up at the ceiling, and she realized that there was nothing she could do. She had to save herself and Sam. She couldn’t think about the blood. She couldn’t think about Fredrik.

There was only one place she could go.

Six hours later, they reached their destination. Fjällbacka was just starting to wake up. She parked the car near the Coast Guard building, taking a moment to work out how she could manage to carry everything. Sam was still sound asleep. She took out a package of tissues from the glove compartment and wiped her hands as best she could. It was hard to get all the blood off. Then she took the suitcases out of the boot of the car and quickly dragged them over to Badholmen, the island with the diving platform, where the boat was docked. She was worried that Sam might wake up, but she had locked the car so he wouldn’t be able to get out and tumble into the water. With an effort she stowed the luggage on board the boat and unlocked the chain, which was meant to keep the vessel from being stolen. Then she ran back to the car, relieved to see that Sam was sleeping as calmly as when she’d left him. Picking him up, she carried him, still wrapped in the blanket, over to the boat. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet as she stepped on board so she wouldn’t slip. Carefully she placed Sam on the deck and then turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed but started up on the first try. Though she hadn’t driven a motorboat in a long time, she was certain she could manage. She backed out of the mooring berth and then headed out of the harbour.

The sun was shining but hadn’t yet had time to warm the air. She felt the tension slowly seeping away, and the horror of the night lost some of its grip on her. As she looked at Sam she wondered if what had happened would scar him for life. A five-year-old was fragile. Who knew what might have been destroyed inside him? She would do everything in her power to make him whole again. She would take away the evil with a kiss, just as she did when he fell off his bike and scraped his knee.

The route across the water was a familiar one. She knew every island, every skerry. She steered towards Väderöbad, heading further and further out along the coast. The waves were getting bigger, and the hull of the boat slammed against the surface after each swell. She enjoyed the feeling of the salty spray on her face, allowing herself to close her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she could see Gråskär in the distance. Her heart leaped. That always happened when the island came into view and she saw the small cottage and the lighthouse rising up white and proud against the blue sky. She was still too far off to see the colour of the cottage, but in her mind she pictured the light grey of the façade with the white trim. She also thought about the pink hollyhocks that grew along the wall, most sheltered from the wind. This was her refuge, her paradise. Her island called Gråskär.

Every single pew in Fjäallbacka church was taken, and the chancel was overflowing with flowers. Wreaths, bouquets, and beautiful silk ribbons inscribed with words of farewell.

Patrik could hardly make himself look at the white coffin that stood in the midst of the sea of flowers. It was eerily quiet inside the large stone church. At the funerals for old people, a hum of voices was almost always audible. Comments were exchanged, such as ‘she was in so much pain that it was a blessing’ and the like. And everyone looked forward to the coffee served afterwards in the church. Today those sorts of conversations were absent. Everyone sat in silence with heavy hearts and an unexpressed feeling of injustice. This should not have happened.

Patrik cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling, trying to blink away his tears. He squeezed Erica’s hand. His suit was scratchy and itchy, and he tugged at his shirt collar to get more air. He felt as though he was suffocating.

The bells in the tower began to chime, the sound echoing between the walls. Many of those present in the church gave a start and glanced towards the coffin. Pastor Lena came out from the sacristy and walked over to the altar. It was Lena who had married them in this very church. That seemed like another time, another reality. Back then the mood had been elated, joyful, and bright. Now the pastor looked sombre. Patrik tried to interpret her expression. Was she too thinking that this was all wrong? Or was she secure in her conviction that there was some meaning behind what had happened?

The tears welled up again, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Erica discreetly slipped him a handkerchief. The last chords of the organ faded away, followed by a few seconds of silence before Lena began to speak. Her voice quavered slightly, but then grew steadier.

‘Life can change in an instant. But God is with us. Today as always.’

Patrik saw her lips moving, but he soon stopped listening. He didn’t want to hear what she said. The tenuous religious faith that had followed him through life ever since he was a child had now departed for good. There was no meaning to be found in what had happened. Again he squeezed Erica’s hand.

‘I can proudly report that we’re right on schedule. In a little over two weeks the Badhotel will be splendidly reopened in Fjällbacka.’

Erling W. Larson beamed as he looked from one board member to the next, as if expecting applause. He had to settle for a number of approving nods.

‘This is a real triumph for the region,’ he clarified. ‘A complete renovation of something that we might well consider a priceless historic icon. At the same time we can now offer people a modern and competitive wellness centre. Or spa, which is perhaps a better word for it.’ He sketched quotation marks in the air around the word ‘spa’, which was foreign to many Swedes. ‘All that remains is to take care of the finishing touches, invite several companies to try out the services in advance, and of course make preparations for the grand opening celebration.’

‘That sounds great. I just have a few questions.’ Mats Sverin, who had assumed the position of town finance officer a couple of months back, waved his pen to attract Erling’s attention.

Erling, who detested anything to do with administrative work and financial reports, pretended not to notice. Hastily declaring the meeting adjourned, he withdrew to his spacious office.

After the fiasco of the Sodding Tanum reality show, no one had expected Erling to recover, yet here he was promoting an even bigger project which was on the brink of success. Personally, he’d never had any doubts, not even when the negative criticism had been at its worst. He was a born winner.

Of course it had taken a toll on him, which was why he had gone to the Ljuset wellness centre in the Dalecarlian region of Sweden to recuperate. That had been a fortuitous turn of events, because if he hadn’t gone there, he never would have met Vivianne. Meeting her had heralded a turning point for him, both professionally and personally. She had won him over as no other woman had ever done before, and it was her vision that he was now turning into reality.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to pick up the phone and call her. It was the fourth time he’d done so today, but the sound of her voice always made him tingle all over. He held his breath as he listened to the ringtone.

‘Hi, darling,’ he said when she answered. ‘I just wanted to hear how you’re doing.’

‘Erling,’ she said, using that special tone of voice that made him feel like a lovesick schoolboy, ‘I’m as fine as I was when you called an hour ago.’

‘Good,’ he said, grinning sheepishly. ‘I wanted to make sure everything was all right.’

‘I know that, and I love you for it. But we still have so much to do before the opening, and you don’t want me to have to work evenings, do you?’

‘Absolutely not, my darling.’

He resolved not to call and disturb her any more. Their evenings were sacred.

‘Okay. Get back to work, and I’ll do the same.’ He made a few kissing noises into the receiver before he replaced the receiver. Then he leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and allowed himself a few minutes to daydream about the impending delights of the evening.

It smelled stuffy inside the cottage. Nathalie opened all the doors and windows to let the brisk wind blow through the rooms. A vase was nearly knocked over by the draught, but she grabbed it at the last second.

Sam lay in the small room next to the kitchen. They had always called it the guest room, even though it had been her bedroom when she was a child. Her parents had slept upstairs. She looked in on him, tucking a shawl around his shoulders. Then she took down the big, rusty key that always hung on a nail just inside the front door and went out on to the rocks. The wind cut through her clothes as she stood there, her back to the house, gazing towards the horizon. The only other building on the island was the lighthouse. The little boathouse down by the dock was so small that it didn’t really count.

She walked over to the lighthouse. Gunnar must have oiled the lock, because the key turned with surprising ease. The door creaked as she pulled it open. Nathalie only had to take a few steps inside before starting up the narrow, steep stairs, holding on to the railing as she climbed.

The view was so beautiful that it left her breathless. It had always had that effect on her. In one direction all she saw was the sea and the distant horizon; in the other direction the archipelago spread out below her, with all the islands, rocks, and skerries. It had been years since the lighthouse was in use. Nowadays it stood as a monument to bygone times. The lamp had been extinguished, and the metal plates and bolts were slowly rusting away from exposure to saltwater and wind. As a child she had loved playing up here. It was so small, like a playroom elevated high above the ground. The only furniture that would fit into the confined space was a bed where the lighthouse keepers could rest during their long shifts, and a chair where they could sit and peer out across the waters.

She lay down on the bed. A musty smell rose up from the bedspread, but the sounds all around her were the same as when she was a child: the shrieking of the gulls, the waves crashing against the rocks, and the groaning sound of the lighthouse itself. Everything had been so simple back then. Her parents had been concerned that she would be bored on the island, since she had no siblings. They needn’t have worried. She loved being here. And she had not been alone. But that was something that she couldn’t have explained to them.

Mats Sverin sighed and shuffled the papers piled on the desk in front of him. Today was one of those days when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wondering. On such days, he got very little done, but they happened less frequently now. He had begun to let go; at least he wanted to think so. He could still see her face so clearly in his mind, and in a sense he was grateful for that. At the same time, he wished the image would start to blur and fade.

He tried to refocus his attention on his work. On good days he quite enjoyed his job. It was a challenge to immerse himself in the town finances, with the constant need to find a balance between political considerations and what was reasonable in terms of the marketplace. During the months that he’d worked here so far, much of his time had naturally been spent on Project Badis. He was pleased that the old hotel building was finally being restored. Like the majority of Fjällbacka residents, both those who still lived in the area and those who had moved away, every time he passed the beautiful structure he had bemoaned the fact that it had been allowed to fall into disrepair. Now it had been returned to its former grandeur.

Mats hoped that Erling’s bombastic promises about the tremendous success this enterprise would enjoy were more than hot air, but he was sceptical. The project had already run up huge expenses for the restoration itself, and the proposed business plan was based on calculations that were far too optimistic. He had tried on a number of occasions to present his view of the situation, without success. And though he had gone over the figures time and time again without finding anything amiss – aside from the massive expenses accrued – nevertheless he had an uneasy feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was lunchtime. It had been ages since he’d had any real appetite, but he knew that he needed to eat. Today was Thursday, which meant pancakes and pea soup at the Källaren restaurant. He should be able to get a few bites down, at the very least.

Only the closest friends and family members were to be present at the actual burial. The others silently disappeared in the opposite direction, headed towards town. Erica held on tightly to Patrik’s hand. They walked behind the coffin, and it felt as if every step sent a stab of pain into her heart. She had tried to persuade Anna not to put herself through this ordeal, but her sister had insisted on having a proper funeral. Her desire to see it done right had temporarily roused her from her apathetic state, so Erica had given up trying to convince Anna to change her mind. Instead, she had helped make all the necessary arrangements so that Anna and Dan could bury their son.

On one issue she had refused to relent, however. Anna wanted all the children to attend the funeral, but Erica decided that the youngest should stay at home. Only the two oldest, Dan’s daughters Belinda and Malin, were present. Patrik’s mother Kristina was babysitting for Lisen, Adrian, Emma, and Maja. And the twins, of course. Erica had been a little concerned that this might prove too much for her mother-in-law, but Kristina had calmly assured her that she would have no problem keeping the youngsters under control for the two hours that the funeral would last.

Erica’s heart ached when she looked at Anna’s almost bald head in front of her. The doctors had been forced to shave off nearly all her hair in order to bore through her skull to relieve the pressure that had built up and might cause permanent brain damage if not dealt with at once. A downy layer of hair had started to grow back, but it was a darker colour than before.

Unlike Anna and the driver of the other car, who had died immediately after the accident, Erica had come through with miraculously minor injuries. She had suffered only a bad concussion and several broken ribs. The twins were a bit underweight when they were born by emergency caesarean, but they were strong and healthy and after two months they were allowed to go home from the hospital.

Erica almost burst into tears when she shifted her gaze from her sister’s downy head to the tiny white coffin. Anna had not only incurred serious head injuries, she had also broken her pelvis. An emergency caesarean had been performed on her, too, but the injuries to the child were so extensive that the doctors gave Anna and Dan little hope. Only a week old, the baby boy had breathed his last.

The funeral had been delayed because Anna was unable to leave the hospital. Only yesterday had she finally been allowed to go home. And today they were burying her son, who would have had a life filled with so much love. Erica saw Dan place his hand on Anna’s shoulder as he carefully parked her wheelchair next to the graveside. Anna shook off his hand. That was how she had reacted ever since the accident. It was as if her pain was so great that she couldn’t share it with anyone else. Dan, on the other hand, needed to share what he was feeling, but not with just anybody. Both Patrik and Erica had tried to talk to him, and all of his friends had done what they could. But he didn’t want to share his grief with anyone except Anna. And she was unable to respond.

Erica found Anna’s reaction perfectly understandable. She knew her sister so well, and was fully aware of everything that she’d already been through. Life had not been kind to Anna, and this threatened to be the event that would finally prove too much for her. For all that Erica understood, she couldn’t help wishing it wasn’t so. Anna needed Dan more than ever, and Dan needed Anna. Now they stood there, side by side, like two strangers as the little coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.

Erica reached out and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Anna didn’t brush it away.

Filled with a restless energy, Nathalie began cleaning the house. It had helped to air out the place, but the stuffy smell still clung to the curtains and bed linens. She threw them all into a big laundry basket, which she lugged down to the dock. Equipped with some laundry detergent and the old scrubbing-board that had been in the house for as long as she could remember, she rolled up her sleeves and began the hard work of doing the wash by hand. Every once in a while she would glance up towards the cottage to make sure that Sam hadn’t awakened and come running outside. He’d been asleep for an unusually long time. Maybe it was in response to the shock. In that case, it was probably best to let him sleep. One more hour, she decided, and then she’d wake him up and see to it that he got something to eat.

Suddenly Nathalie realized that there actually wasn’t much food in the house. She hung the laundry on the clothesline outside and then went in to have a look at the pantry. All she found was a tin of Campbell’s tomato soup and a tin of Bullen’s pilsner sausages. She didn’t dare look at the expiry dates. Surely that sort of tinned food would last for ever? Regardless, she and Sam would have to settle for that today.

There was no temptation to go into town. She felt safe here. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be left in peace. Nathalie paused to consider the situation as she held the soup tin in her hand. There was only one solution. She would have to call Gunnar. He had looked after the house for her after her parents died, and she could undoubtedly ask him for help. The landline no longer worked, but she was able to get good reception on her mobile, so she tapped in his number.

‘SVERIN.’

The name stirred up so many memories that Nathalie gave a start. It took a few seconds before she composed herself enough to speak.

‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

‘Yes. Hi. It’s Nathalie.’

‘Nathalie!’ exclaimed Signe Sverin.

Nathalie smiled. She had always loved Signe and Gunnar, and the feeling was mutual.

‘Sweetie, is that really you? Are you calling from Stockholm?’

‘No, I’m here on the island.’ To her surprise she felt the words catch in her throat. She’d slept only a few hours, and fatigue must be making her overly sensitive. She cleared her throat. ‘I got here yesterday.’

‘But, my dear, you should have warned us so we could go out there and do some cleaning. The place must look terrible, and—’

‘Don’t worry about the cleaning.’ Nathalie interrupted Signe’s torrent. She’d forgotten how much she talked, and how fast. ‘You’ve kept everything so nice out here. And it did me good to clean up a bit and do the laundry.’

Signe snorted. ‘Well, you could have at least asked for help. We’ve got nothing to occupy ourselves these days, Gunnar and I. Not even any grandchildren to look after. But Matte has moved home from Göteborg. He’s got a job working for Tanum council.’

‘That’s nice for you. Why did he decide to do that?’ She pictured Matte. Blond, tanned, and always cheerful.

‘I don’t really know. It all happened rather fast. He was involved in an accident, and afterwards I had the impression that … No, it’s nothing. Don’t pay any attention to an old woman who talks too much. So what’s on your mind, Nathalie? Is there something we can do for you? And do you have the little guy with you? It would be so nice to see him.’

‘Yes, of course, Sam is here. Only he’s not feeling very well.’

Nathalie fell silent. Nothing would make her happier than to introduce Signe to her son. But not until they were settled on the island; not until she saw what effect the recent events might have had on him.

‘That’s why I thought I’d ask for your help. We don’t have much food out here, and I don’t want to make Sam get up so we could go into—’

Before she could finish her sentence, Signe interrupted.

‘But of course we’d love to help. Gunnar is taking the boat out this afternoon anyway, and I can do your grocery shopping for you. Just tell me what you need.’

‘I can pay Gunnar back in cash, if you wouldn’t mind buying the food for me.’

‘Absolutely. That’s no problem, dear. So, what should I add to my shopping list?’

Nathalie could picture Signe putting on her reading glasses, sliding them down to the very tip of her nose as she reached for pen and paper. Gratefully Nathalie rattled off everything she could imagine they might need. Including a bag of sweets for Sam. Otherwise things could get difficult when Saturday arrived. He always kept track of the weekdays, and on Sunday he was already counting down to the next bag of Saturday sweets.

When she finished the phone conversation, Nathalie considered waking Sam. But something told her that she should let him sleep another hour.

Nobody was doing any work at the police station. Displaying a sensitivity that was unusual for him, Bertil Mellberg had asked Patrik whether he wanted his colleagues to attend the funeral. Patrik had merely shaken his head. He’d only been back on the job a few days, and everyone was tiptoeing around him. Even Mellberg.

Paula and Mellberg had been the first officers to arrive at the scene of the accident. When they caught sight of the two cars, crumpled beyond recognition, they didn’t think that anyone could have survived the crash. They peered in one of the windows and immediately recognized Erica. Only half an hour earlier an ambulance had come to the station to take Patrik to the hospital, and now his wife was dead, or at least seriously injured. The medics were unable to specify what the extent of her injuries might be, and it seemed to take an unbearably long time for the fire brigade to cut open the car.

Martin and Gösta were busy with another case and only heard about the accident and Patrik’s collapse several hours later. They drove to the hospital in Uddevalla and spent the whole evening pacing the corridors. Patrik was in Intensive Care, and both Erica and her sister Anna, who had been seated next to her in the car, underwent emergency surgery.

But now Patrik was back on the job. Thankfully he hadn’t had a heart attack, as was first thought; instead, he’d suffered a vascular spasm. After nearly three months on sick leave, the doctors had given him permission to return to work, although with strict orders to avoid stress. As if that’s going to be possible, thought Gösta. With newborn twins at home, and considering what happened to Erica’s sister. The devil himself would be stressed in that situation.

‘Do you think we should have gone anyway?’ asked Martin, stirring his coffee. ‘Maybe Patrik said no but he really wanted us to attend the funeral.’

‘No, I think Patrik meant what he said.’ Gösta scratched Ernst, the station’s dog, behind one ear. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people at the church. We can do more good here.’

‘How can you say that? We haven’t heard a peep from anyone all day.’

‘It’s the calm before the storm. By July you’ll be longing for a day without any drunks, burglaries, or other sorts of trouble.’

‘That’s true,’ said Martin. He’d always been the newbie at the station, but he no longer felt like such a beginner. By now he’d had a few years of experience on the police force, and he’d participated in several investigations that had been very difficult, which was putting it mildly. He had also become a father, and he felt as if he’d grown several inches the minute that Pia gave birth to their daughter.

‘Did you see the invitation we received?’ Gösta reached for a Ballerina biscuit and began his usual routine of meticulously separating the vanilla top from the chocolate bottom.

‘What invitation?’

‘Apparently we’re going to have the honour of acting as guinea pigs at that new place they’re building in Fjällbacka.’

‘You mean at the Badis Hotel?’ Martin woke up a bit.

‘That’s right. Erling’s new project. Let’s just hope that it goes better than all that Sodding Tanum nonsense.’

‘I think it sounds great. Lots of guys laugh at the idea of having a facial, but I had one in Göteborg and it was bloody marvellous. My skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom for weeks afterward.’

Gösta gave his colleague a disgusted look. A facial? Over his dead body. Nobody was going to smear a load of muck all over his face. ‘Well, we’ll have to see what they’re offering. I’m hoping for at least some fancy grub. Maybe a dessert buffet.’

‘I doubt it,’ laughed Martin. ‘Places like that are usually more concerned with getting people to stay in shape than stuffing themselves with food.’

Gösta looked offended. His weight was exactly the same as when he finished secondary school. With a snort, he helped himself to another biscuit.

Chaos reigned when they arrived home. Maja and Lisen were jumping on the sofa, Emma and Adrian were fighting over a DVD, and the twins were crying at the top of their lungs. Patrik’s mother looked as if she might jump off a cliff at any second.

‘Thank God you’re home,’ she exclaimed as she handed Patrik and Erica each a screaming baby. ‘I don’t know what got into these kids. They’ve been crazy. And I tried to feed the babies, but every time I fed one of them, the other would start crying, and then the first one would get distracted and couldn’t eat and would start crying too …’ She fell silent, trying to catch her breath.