The Double Silence (11 page)

‘Oh, how cosy,’ sighed Beata contentedly, sipping at her cup of strong, hot coffee. ‘By the way, I have to tell you what happened yesterday after you’d all gone to bed. John and I decided to stay up for a while. It was hours after the last baby had dived off the ledges, and all the birds in the water had disappeared. But suddenly we heard a peeping sound coming from the bushes, and there was a lost guillemot hopping about right below the veranda. Every once in a while it would peep, and it seemed so forlorn. It must have gone astray, and instead of going down to the water, it got lost on the beach and headed up to the woods.’

‘Oh …’ murmured Andrea, amused.

‘We chased it down to the water, and it finally went in and began swimming away. We could see its head and a little wake left behind in the water as it headed out to sea. And we thought that little baby was done for. But guess what happened.’

Andrea didn’t answer. She was looking out at the white horses through the rain-streaked window and seemed lost in thought.

‘Hello. Are you listening?’ Beata sounded offended.

‘Sure. Of course I am.’

‘Don’t worry about Sam,’ said Håkan. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

‘When the baby bird had swum out a short distance, it began peeping again,’ Beata went on. ‘And you know what? It wasn’t long before it got an answer, and we saw a male bird coming from far away, from the other side of the bird mountain. And it was peeping nonstop so that the baby would hear. They swam until they reached each other and then disappeared together out to sea. Cute, huh?’ Beata clapped her hands.

Sometimes she’s such a child, thought Andrea.

‘That’s amazing. Really.’

‘Yeah, a real Walt Disney ending to the day. It was unbelievable. I think that’s the one thing I’ll remember most from out here.’ Beata sighed happily.

Andrea drank the rest of her coffee.

‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘Twelve forty-five,’ replied Håkan.

‘Can that be right?’ Andrea frowned, and then turned again to look out of the window.

‘Sam will be fine,’ said Håkan, trying to reassure her. ‘He probably sought shelter from the storm. He’ll be back as soon as it stops raining.’

KARIN JACOBSSON HAD
closed the door to her office in police headquarters so she could make the phone call in peace. It was the most important call of her life, so far. She had decided to start by finding out more about the adoption procedure and how it had been accomplished before she did any more digging into the past. She tapped in the number for the tax office and supplied her national insurance number. Ten minutes later all the information arrived by fax. Her heart was pounding when the fax machine beeped to announce that the printout was ready. She stared at the machine that stood in a corner of her office. The pages were neatly stacked up in the tray. They represented the only thing of importance in her life, the only thing that had any real meaning: the information about her daughter – her name and where she lived. It was incomprehensible and made her feel dizzy. Karin’s mouth went dry, and she longed for a cigarette. Slowly she got up from her chair with her eyes fixed on the fax machine. Her hand shook as she reached for the pages. Without looking at them, she picked them all up and went back to her desk to sit down. She took a deep breath before she began to read. Her eyes immediately stopped on a date and a name.

Born 14 September 1983 at 7.16 a.m. in Visby hospital. Hanna Elisabeth von Schwerin. Karin stopped breathing and just stared at the name: von Schwerin. Of all the God-awful names.

Karin was a confirmed supporter of left-wing politics; she detested everything that had to do with ultra-conservative and right-wing beliefs. But her own daughter, Lydia, had the ultimate aristocratic surname. The
room slowly began to spin. It couldn’t be true. There was nothing worse. She pictured a blonde young woman with a pageboy hairstyle and pearl necklace, her blouse tucked into a straight black skirt, wearing nylon stockings and pumps. Pink lipstick. Living in a big flat in the Östermalm district of Stockholm. Right-wing opinions, a manor house in Skåne and skeet shooting. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrible. The class difference alone would create an insurmountable barrier between them.

She pictured herself ringing the doorbell of her daughter’s place, wearing her tracksuit jacket, jeans and Converse trainers. Her daughter’s supercilious expression. You’re supposed to be my mother? Ha!

Karin stared at the name for a long time, speechless as thoughts whirled through her mind.

THE RAIN PATTERED
on the roof. Beata, Andrea, John and Håkan were playing cards and reading in the lodge’s common room as they waited for Sam to return.

‘Where the hell can he be?’ Andrea gathered up the cards after the second round and peered out of the window, even though the visibility was non-existent. It was impossible to see down to the shore any more. ‘OK, that’s enough. I’m going to go look for him.’

‘You can’t go out in this weather. Isn’t he answering his mobile?’ said Beata, not taking her eyes off the page of the paperback book that she was reading.

‘No, the coverage out here is really lousy,’ complained Andrea. ‘I tried to phone the kids too, but it’s not working.’

‘Same with me,’ said Håkan. ‘I haven’t been able to contact Stina. She hasn’t texted me or answered her mobile since we got here. The kids haven’t either,’ he muttered.

‘The chief ranger said that the coverage is erratic on the island. So while we’re here we apparently can’t count on getting in touch with the outside world. That’s what he told us as soon as we came ashore,’ said John. ‘It’s no use even trying our mobiles. And I think that’s just as well, by the way. It feels damn great to be free of those wretched things for a while.’

‘I agree in principle, but I have to admit that it would have been nice if they were working at the moment. It seems strange that Sam has been gone so long. And in this horrible weather. Did he take anything with him to eat? He must be hungry by now.’

‘Maybe he met somebody with a big lunch box,’ Beata joked, rolling her eyes and poking Andrea in the side. ‘Maybe he’s having his fill right now, of one thing and another.’

‘Very funny.’ Andrea gave her an annoyed look. ‘As soon as the rain stops, I’m going out to look for him. It’s not a big island, after all.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Beata amiably. ‘The rain is already letting up. While we’re waiting, we can get changed.’

At decisive moments, Beata always came through. Andrea smiled gratefully, reminded why they were such good friends, in spite of everything.

They went over to their respective cabins and changed into outdoor gear and wellingtons. As if on command, the rain stopped and the clouds dispersed so they were able to set off. The path around the island was hilly, and the ground was uneven. The rocks were slippery, and it was muddy after the day’s downpour.

‘How long do you think it takes to get round the whole island?’ asked Andrea as they walked towards the restaurant and café.

‘I read in the brochure that it’s six kilometres in circumference, but I’m sure it’s much shorter if we stick to the walking path. It’ll probably take us an hour, tops. He must have taken shelter from the rain somewhere. There are tons of caves on the island. He’s probably sitting inside of one of them, moping. I think we should search along the shore. But we can’t actually go out on the beaches, because they’re all closed to tourists.’

‘There’s no real reason to think that he’d be down near the water,’ Andrea objected. ‘He could just as well have gone to a valley in the centre of the island.’

‘In any case, Sam is fully capable of taking care of himself. And besides, he’s only been missing since this morning.’

‘You’re right.’ Andrea laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed. ‘I know it’s probably ridiculous to get so worried. But I’m thinking about his diabetes. He’s not good about eating regular meals, and sometimes he forgets to take his insulin with him. I’m afraid that he might have passed out. But I’m the nervous type, as you well know. Sam is always teasing me for acting like such a mother hen with the children. And whenever he doesn’t come home at the time he promised, I can’t help imagining the worst.’

They went into the restaurant and asked around, but no one had seen Sam since the previous evening. As they came back outside, the sun broke through the clouds. After that, the temperature quickly rose. They checked the pirate cave, which the guide had shown them during the sightseeing tour they’d taken the day before. Then they continued along the walking path, calling Sam’s name and searching the bushes and thickets. They looked for him among the boulders along the sea, at the bird mountain, and in the valleys. They even went all the way out to the lighthouse. Sam was nowhere to be found. And not one of the people they asked had seen him. In the meantime, the afternoon ferry had left the island. Many of those who had spent the past day on Stora Karlsö had now gone back to Gotland, while new tourists had arrived to take their place.

They sat down on the lighthouse steps.

‘What should we do? I’m really starting to get worried now,’ said Andrea. Her voice quavered a bit.

Beata looked concerned. She took a big gulp of water from the bottle that they’d brought along and glanced at her watch.

‘Three fifty. Where could he be?’ She took out her mobile. ‘I’m going to ring John and find out if Sam has turned up there.’

‘But do you think it will really—’

That was all Andrea managed to say before Beata angrily stuffed her mobile back in her belt bag.

‘Dead as a doornail, of course. Shit. Come on, let’s make another round. We haven’t checked the other bird mountain way over there.’

‘What other bird mountain?’

‘The one that’s beyond the others. There’s another cliff back there. With lots of guillemots, but it’s not as accessible, so nobody makes an effort to go there. It wouldn’t surprise me to find him hunched over his easel and painting away. He probably forgot all about the time.’

Andrea’s face lit up. ‘That would be so typical of Sam. He always wants whatever is unobtainable. Anything that feels exclusive.’ She patted Beata’s arm. ‘Thanks for coming with me, Beata. You’re a real friend.’

They started walking along the road but didn’t meet a single other person. Steam rose up from the damp ground. Up ahead towered the
other bird mountain, but so far they could see no guillemots on the slope.

They stepped off the path and continued towards the cliff. They heard sounds that told them of the birds’ presence; their shrieks rose up to the sky. They rounded a promontory and suddenly the whole scene opened before them. Row upon row of black female guillemots were crowded together, their tiny chicks barely visible beneath their protective wings. Beata pointed to the top.

‘Look at that. There’s something up there,’ she shouted eagerly.

‘Where?’ Andrea turned to look at her friend.

‘There. On the other side of the slope, just below the crest. Do you see it?’

‘That looks like Sam’s backpack.’

They ran back to the path and followed it up the other side of the bird mountain. The backpack was lying in the grass just below the plateau.

Both women began yelling Sam’s name in unison.

They turned to look in every direction. Beata went as close to the edge of the cliff as she dared and looked down. The drop was so steep that it took her breath away. Birds were everywhere. All those birds and the terrible din they were making added to her dizziness, and she had to step back. She sank down on to a rock. Now a trace of annoyance was apparent in her voice.

‘Where the hell can he be?’

Andrea shook her head.

‘I don’t understand.’

Beata gave her a solemn look.

‘We need to ring the police. What if he fell into the sea?’

KNUTAS HAD JUST
left police headquarters and started to walk home when Karin Jacobsson called him.

‘Two people have disappeared on Stora Karlsö. One of them is the film director Sam Dahlberg. He’s been missing since this morning, and no one knows where he might have gone. His wife is worried sick.’

‘What happened?’

‘Apparently there’s a whole group out there. They arrived yesterday morning and are staying in cabins. When his wife woke up this morning, Sam Dahlberg wasn’t in bed, and she couldn’t find him anywhere. Then she noticed his backpack with his painting gear was missing. He’s an artist too, you know. She assumed that Sam had gone out somewhere to paint, but by afternoon he still hadn’t turned up even though a storm had moved in. So she started getting worried. That was when she and a friend went out to look for him.’

‘And?’

‘They found his backpack and a portable easel near the top of a cliff. Evidently there are several slopes that serve as breeding grounds for the guillemots, and not just where the tourists tend to go. This was a rather remote area, beyond the famous bird mountains. It looks like Dahlberg was planning to paint, but then something happened. Maybe he fell off the cliff. Or he might have his own reasons for staying away. What do I know?’

‘Has anyone checked out the beach?’

‘No, they’ve just started doing a systematic search for him. The thing
is that he’s diabetic, so his wife is very worried that he hasn’t taken his insulin.’

‘And there’s no chance that he might have left the island?’

‘First of all, we have to ask why he would do that when he’s on a holiday trip with good friends. But if, against all odds, he did leave, it wasn’t by taking the regular boat. The ferry made two separate departures from the island during the day, and Dahlberg wasn’t on board either time. The captain knows him well, and he swears that he would have noticed.’

‘You said that two people were missing, is that right?’

‘Yes. A windsurfer also seems to have disappeared. A twenty-six-year-old man from Stockholm named Jakob Ekström. He arrived yesterday and rented a room in a hostel in the village. He’s supposed to be there for three days. The last time the people staying in the next room saw him was last night, but a witness from the hostel saw him surfing off Hienviken this morning. Nobody has seen him since. The manager of the hostel phoned and sounded worried.’