The Hidden Child by Camilla Läckberg Page A

searched her memory. No, she’d never heard her mother mention any of them. She was quite sure about that. And Axel was depicted in Elsy’s diary as almost a mythical, heroic figure. Elsy described him as ‘infinitely brave, and nearly as stylish as Errol Flynn’. Had her mother been in love with Axel Frankel? No, that wasn’t the feeling Erica got from reading her words; it was more as if Elsy had harboured a deep admiration for him.
    Erica set the diary on her lap as she brooded over what she’d just read. Why hadn’t Erik Frankel mentioned that he’d known her mother when they were young? Erica had told him where she’d found the Nazi medal, and who it had belonged to. Yet he hadn’t said a word. Again Erica recalled the strange silence that had ensued. She was right. There was something that he’d been keeping from her.
    The shrill sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. With a sigh she swung her legs down from the desk and pushed back her chair. Who could that be? Her question was immediately answered by someone calling ‘Hello?’ in the hall. Erica sighed again, now with even greater emphasis. Kristina. Her mother-in-law. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and went over to the staircase. ‘Hello?’ she heard again, the tone of voice even more insistent, and Erica felt herself clenching her jaw with annoyance.
    ‘Hello,’ she said, as cheerfully as she could manage, although she was aware how false it sounded. Thank goodness Kristina was not particularly attuned to nuances.
    ‘Just popped into say hello!’ replied her mother-in-law happily as she hung up her jacket. ‘I brought along some cookies for coffee. Baked them myself. Thought you’d appreciate it, since you career girls don’t have time for such things.’
    Erica was gnashing her teeth. Kristina had an unbelievable talent for issuing veiled criticisms. Was she born that way or was it something she’d perfected through long years of practice?
    ‘Oh, that sounds nice,’ she said politely as she went into the kitchen where Kristina was already making coffee, as if it were her house and not Erica’s.
    ‘Sit down. I’ll fix the coffee,’ she said. ‘I know where everything is.’
    ‘You certainly do,’ said Erica, knowing that Kristina wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
    ‘Patrik and Maja are out taking a walk. They probably won’t be back for a while,’ she said, hoping that might make her mother-in-law cut her visit short.
    ‘I know,’ said Kristina as she measured out scoops of coffee. ‘Two, three, four . . .’ She put the scoop back in the tin and then turned her attention to Erica. ‘They’ll be home any minute. I drove past them on the way over. It’s so nice that Karin has moved back, and that Patrik has some company in the daytime. It’s boring to go out walking all alone, especially for someone like Patrik, who’s used to working and being productive. It looked as though they were enjoying each other’s company.’
    Struggling to process this information, Erica stared at Kristina. What was she on about? Karin? Karin who?
    The moment Patrik stepped through the door, a light went on in Erica’s head. Oh, that Karin.
    Patrik smiled sheepishly, and after a strained pause he said, ‘How nice – coffee.’
    They’d gathered in the kitchen for a run-through of the case. It was getting close to lunchtime, and Mellberg’s stomach was growling loudly.
    ‘Okay then, what do we have so far?’ He reached for one of the buns that Annika had set out on a platter. Just a little appetizer before lunch. ‘Paula and Martin? You talked to the victim’s brother this morning – did you find out anything interesting?’ He chewed on the bun as he talked, dropping crumbs on to the table.
    ‘That’s right, we picked him up at Landvetter airport,’ said Paula. ‘But he doesn’t seem to know very much. We asked him about the letters from Sweden’s Friends, but the only thing he was able to clarify was that