The Preacher by Camilla Läckberg Page B

fatherly. ‘No, there’s no one.’
    ‘Should I ring and hear whether the pastor can come over?’
    Again the same kind smile. ‘No thank you, I don’t need a pastor. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve lived through this day over and over again in my thoughts, so it doesn’t come as a shock. I just want to sit here in peace among my plants. I have everything I need. I may be old, but I’m tough.’
    He placed his hand over Patrik’s, as if he were the one offering consolation. And perhaps he was.
    ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you a few pictures of Mona and tell you a little about her. So that you’ll understand how she was when she was alive.’
    Without hesitation the younger man nodded, and Albert hobbled out to fetch the old albums. For about an hour he showed Patrik photographs and told him about his daughter. It was the best hour he had spent in a long time, and he realized that it had been far too long since he’d allowed himself to retreat into memory.
    When they said goodbye at the door, he pressed one of the photos into Patrik’s hand. It showed Mona on her fifth birthday, with a big cake and five candles in front of her and a smile stretching from ear to ear. She was delightfully sweet, with blonde locks and eyes that glittered with the joy of life. It was important for him that the police have this picture in their mind’s eye as they searched for his daughter’s murderer.
    After the policeman had left, Albert sat down on the veranda again. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers. Then he fell asleep and dreamed about a long, bright tunnel where Mona and Linnea were waiting for him like shadows at the end. He thought he saw them waving.

    The door to Gabriel’s office flew open with a bang. Solveig stormed in, and behind her he saw Laine come running, her hands fluttering helplessly.
    ‘You shit! You fucking dick!’
    He grimaced automatically at the choice of words. He had always found it extremely embarrassing when people showed strong feelings around him, and he had no patience for such language.
    ‘What’s going on? Solveig, I really think you should calm down and not speak to me that way.’
    Too late he realized that the critical tone of voice, which came so naturally to him, only made things worse. She seemed about to fly at his throat, and for safety’s sake he retreated behind his desk.
    ‘Calm down? Are you telling me to calm down, you fucking prick? You limp dick!’
    He could see that she was enjoying seeing him flinch at each sexual epithet. Behind her Laine was turning more and more pale.
    Solveig lowered her voice a bit, but the tone was even more venomous. ‘What is it, Gabriel? Why do you look so dejected? You used to like it when I whispered dirty words in your ear. It used to turn you on. Do you remember, Gabriel?’ Now Solveig was hissing the words as she approached his desk.
    ‘There’s no reason to rehash the past. Do you have something to tell me, or are you just drunk and disagreeable as always?’
    ‘Do I have something to tell you? Yes, you can bet your arse I do. I was down in Fjällbacka and you know what? They’ve found Mona and Siv.’
    Gabriel gave a start. Shock was written all over his face.
    ‘They’ve found the girls? Where?’
    Solveig leaned over the desk, supporting her weight on her hands so that her face was only a couple of inches from Gabriel’s.
    ‘In the King’s Cleft. Along with a young German girl who was murdered. And they think it’s the same killer. So for shame, Gabriel Hult. Shame on you, accusing your brother, your own flesh and blood. And he had to bear the blame in people’s eyes, despite the fact there was never a shred of evidence against him. It was all the pointing and whispering behind his back that broke him. But maybe you knew that was how things would go. You knew that he was weak. That he was sensitive. He couldn’t deal with the shame and hanged himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if that