Leona Read online

  The lady turned her and started gathering the hair at the back of her neck with a hair band. It was warm in the bathroom and as long as she had her pajamas on it was fine. But Olivia knew it would be cold later. She hoped that the quiet lady would not see that she had bruises and wounds on her body. She mustn’t show them to anyone, Daddy had said. Otherwise he would get really mad. As long as Olivia had on her pajamas the quiet lady would probably not see.

  “Can I have clothes on this time? It was so cold before,” Olivia said.

  The lady stopped and looked at her. Olivia became worried. Had she been stupid again? Without saying anything the lady got up and opened the bathroom door.

  “Sorry. Please don’t tell Daddy.”

  It was too late. The lady had gone out and closed the bathroom door. Olivia climbed into the bathtub. Curled up into a ball. She didn’t know what to do. Why had she said that? Daddy would come in any moment now and he would be furious. She closed her eyes. If only she had the teddy bear.

  The door opened. Olivia didn’t dare look up. But it was not Daddy, it was the lady. She set a pair of blue underpants and a white undershirt on the toilet seat. Olivia was unsure. Did the lady mean that she got to wear them?

  The lady told Olivia to sit on the edge of the tub and then she slipped on the strange cap that Olivia had to wear under the wig. Oh, if she only didn’t have to wear the wig. It was so prickly. Before she had time to think more about it the lady had put it on her and taped it to her neck.

  “You can change,” said the lady, opening the cabinet above the sink.

  The lady moved Daddy’s toiletry things back and forth. Seemed to be looking for something. She swore quietly and went out.

  Olivia didn’t know what she should do. She didn’t dare take off her pajamas. She just stood there.

  The lady had left the door open, so Olivia could hear what she and Daddy were talking about.

  “Where’s the blood, Ronni?” said the lady.

  “Damn it, I forgot,” Daddy answered. “I used the whole bottle last time. I was going to buy more but…”

  Daddy fell silent. The lady didn’t say anything either.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I couldn’t believe it. I knew that Ronni wasn’t particularly clever, but I hadn’t taken into account that he could be this incompetent. The girl was supposed to look bloody, that was the whole plan from the start. Her vulnerability would terrify the people around her, which was a prerequisite for her being able to carry out the robbery. If people thought someone had injured her they would quickly understand that this someone could injure her again if they did not follow the instructions on the tape. For that reason no one dared approach her during the robbery. That was the key. No blood, no robbery; it was that simple.

  I stood in the kitchen and stared at Ronni. He stared back with a hollow, vacant expression that didn’t exactly make his pale, stubbly face look any more intelligent. I looked at the clock. Ten minutes to eight. We wouldn’t be able to get hold of any blood until the stores opened at ten, and by then it would be too late.

  “We must be able to get hold of it somewhere,” said Ronni.

  I looked away. I couldn’t bear to look at him. The only person I knew who maybe stocked blood was Madeleine, the nail technician near work. She had mentioned that she brought in seasonal makeup to beef up sales. I had seen other Halloween items on the shelf when I had been there to have my nails done, and though I couldn’t remember if there had been any blood, there probably was. It was a gamble. Madeleine opened at eight in the morning.

  “You’ll have to run over to Madeleine on the corner and buy some.”

  I wrote down the address. Ronni looked at the slip.

  “Damn it, that’s right next to the police station.”

  “Shut up! You’re going! She knows me. You’ll have to say you’re buying fake blood for your kids who are going to a Halloween party or whatever. Improvise, Ronni. But be damn sure not to fuck this up too. I’m starting to get really tired of your mistakes.”

  Ronni threw on his jacket on his way out. God knows what he would have come up with if I hadn’t been there.

  “And listen, let the girl have some underwear on this time. I’ve set them out in the bathroom.”

  I went to work. I had intended to get the girl ready completely but I didn’t have time to wait for Ronni to get back. There was nothing more for me to do until tonight.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Olivia was in place. She had walked exactly the way that Daddy had shown, up all the stairs and in through both of the doors. She had dropped the rain cape and backpack right inside the door. Now she was standing in the middle of the room looking up toward the high counter. The room was small. Smaller than last time. It was like a bank but somehow not. There were stronger colors, yellow and black. Daddy had gone and bought that red stuff and covered her with it. Then he sprayed her and the teddy bear, just like last time. She had gloves on too. Not warm, furry winter gloves but thin plastic ones. They smelled funny. And they were too big. Not comfortable at all. It was like having bags on your hands, but Daddy said that she couldn’t take them off. It was something about the door handle, he said. Last time when the doors opened by themselves it went much better. This time there was first a little stairway, then a heavy door, and then another stairway and sliding doors before she came to the right place. Daddy had shown her which way to go. They had practiced two nights in a row.

  The ladies who were working sat behind a high counter. They were completely glassed in, too. They almost looked like dolls, sitting completely still. Just like Daddy told them to do on the recording.

  If Olivia only managed this she would get to go home to Mommy. She had to manage it. Daddy had said this time would be harder than last time. If anything went wrong she should not say a word. She was good at that. She didn’t like talking that much anyway. She mostly liked to sing. But nothing could go wrong. Not now, when Daddy had been so nice. He had let her wear the clothes that the lady had given her. Her favorite undershirt and underpants. And then the rain cape on top. But it was still cold.

  There were only two customers inside. A lady and an older man. They did just as Daddy said. Olivia was just about to put everything in the backpack when the man approached her. He whispered, “What’s your name, little girl?”

  Olivia continued to put the bags into the backpack.

  “Who is doing this to you?” he said quietly.

  Olivia looked quickly at the man. He looked nice. Not stupid like Daddy had said all men were. It couldn’t do any harm if she just said a word or two, could it? Now she was done. She had put everything in the bag. Maybe the nice man would tell Daddy how clever she had been. That she did everything just right. Because if Daddy only knew that, then she would get to go home.

  The man leaned over.

  “Little girl. You look cold and tired. Have you had anything to eat?”

  Olivia shook her head.

  “You know,” he whispered, “I live very close by. If you want you can come up to my place and warm up a little. I have hot chocolate and sandwiches. Would you like that?”

  The man leaned on a cane. He looked at her with warm, kind eyes. If she had a grandfather she would want him to be just like the old man. Hot chocolate was the best thing she knew.

  “My dear, you’re completely covered with wounds.”

  The old man came closer. Olivia backed up. It was a reflex. Suddenly she could hear Daddy’s words in her head: “If you make a mistake you will never go home to Mommy, do you get that?” She picked up the rain cape, slipped it over her head and was about to pull it over her body when she felt a hand on her arm. A big, warm hand. It was soft against her skin. Not like Daddy’s hard, scratchy hands. She looked up. It was the old man who had taken hold of her. Her heart started to pound. She had to get out. Quickly. She drew her arm out of the old man’s grasp, picked up the backpack, and ran to the first door. It opened automatically in front of her. She pulled the pack up onto
her back as she ran down the steps to the main exit. With the gloves on she pushed as hard as she could on the door and ran out. The cold wind struck her, pressing the rain cape along one side of her body and the hood against one cheek. She bounded down the steps to the street. With both hands she adjusted the hood around her face and turned around. The old man was not coming after her. She walked as quickly as she could up to the ornamental trees that stood in rows along the sidewalk. She was supposed to walk between them and the parked cars. She was not allowed to run because then people would be more likely to notice her. And she might fall. She did not want that to happen. Not on the hard cobblestones. It hurt to walk on them. But she didn’t have to go far. When she came up to where she was supposed to turn she stopped by a tree and looked around as Daddy had said. Everything looked different when it was light. She could see the subway going past far away on a bridge over the water. In the other direction she saw a lady walking a dog. When they disappeared she walked just as fast as she could into the little narrow street. There were no people, only cars parked on one side. She slowed down. Just as Daddy had told her, she crouched down and kept as close to the cars as she could. But she didn’t touch them. She searched with her eyes along the sidewalk. There it was! Right below the curb between the next two cars. She slipped in and crouched down even more between the cars. She wriggled off the backpack, then she cracked open the grate to the storm drain and let the backpack fall down. The thud was delayed. It was deep. She looked around. Far off, on the street, she could see two ladies walking on the sidewalk. She pressed her fingers down through the grate and pulled it all the way to the side over the cobblestones on the street. The grate was just as light as last time. She huddled up and set her feet down on the hard, bent iron rungs that were the ladder down into the drain. She could hear that the ladies were coming in her direction. She pulled on the rain cape to get everything down with her and carefully climbed down the ladder. She must not fall. Putting the grate over her head was easy as pie. She stood completely still under the grate while she heard the ladies pass by on the sidewalk. She had done it. Now she only needed to climb down to the bottom and wait for the evening. Until she heard Daddy’s three knocks on the grate. Then she could come up.

  It was cold this time, too. Even though the quiet lady had let her put clothes on. But when Daddy came he would put a blanket around her and drive her to the apartment. Then he would be nice and think that she had been clever. Then she would get to bathe in warm water again. For a really long time, now that she had done it completely right. She longed to be able to show how clever she had been. And she wouldn’t say a word about what had happened with the old man. Ever. That was her own little secret.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Fredrik nodded to me when I got to work. Was that a normal nod? The others were looking as well. Did they really always keep their eyes on me that long? Study me up and down like that? I observed them more carefully now, to see whether they were watching me. Maybe I just looked tired. Considering how little sleep I had gotten lately, and that I had been up since five o’clock in the morning, that wouldn’t be surprising. I should’ve worn more makeup.

  As usual, the discussion in the break room was meaningless babble. The same conversations, just like so many times before. One officer was complaining about a difficult suspect, while another had witnesses who refused to appear for questioning. A few people were running around in the corridor with phones to their ears.

  I went over to the coffee machine and poured myself a cup. Sat down in one of the armchairs. Claes was sitting on the couch opposite. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open and he yawned widely behind his hand. He seldom took a coffee break. When he did, it was obvious that he was only there because he knew he should be a little more social with his staff. The atmosphere in the break room was different when he was there. Stiffer. People tried harder to be noticed. If they didn’t talk about work, they told stories about how diligently they had been working on their gardening, or floorball, or whatever else they did in their spare time. Claes didn’t seem particularly amused, though. He mostly just sat staring straight ahead. Joined in on the conversation only when there was an opening to talk about cars or boats he would have bought if he’d had the chance. He took his phone out of his pocket and answered it.

  “I’ll be damned! You have the situation under control, right? I’ll send the investigator over.”

  Claes looked over the room. Stopped when his eyes found me.

  “Leona. There’s been another girl robbery. At Forex in Old Town.”

  “What?”

  I stood up.

  “They think it’s the same girl as in the previous robbery, but evidently the alarm came a while after she got out of there. The response team seems to have done a good job and Forensics is on the scene. You’d better head over there now.”

  I drained the cup of too-hot coffee and jogged toward my office.

  “You need to solve this case as quickly as possible. The newspapers will go crazy,” Claes shouted after me.

  I closed the door. My phone was buzzing in my pocket. Now the media circus was in full swing again. I didn’t answer. I picked up my things and turned on the radio.

  The Forex currency exchange office at Kornhamnstorg 4 in Stockholm’s Old Town was robbed this morning by a young girl. According to witnesses, the robbery has similarities to the bank robbery that occurred at SEB just over two weeks ago, where a young girl managed to get away with a large amount of cash in a similar way. The police have not confirmed whether the same girl was involved in both robberies. She was reportedly unarmed and had large wounds on her body. The police have not released many details about the circumstances surrounding the two robberies, but so far have found no trace of the girl. A witness from inside the bank is said by his own report to have touched the girl, who was covered with blood. The man was too shaken to speak further about the incident. No arrests have been made.

  What? I stopped suddenly. A man had touched the girl. I swore to myself. I was worried this would happen. It was a mistake, letting the girl have clothes on. The Forex office was small, so the girl ended up closer to the customers. With clothes on she didn’t seem as vulnerable. I should have realized that some fool would try to approach her despite the threats from the recorded voice. What kind of crazy person would dare jeopardize a child’s safety like that?

  The phone rang for the third time. I tore it out of my pocket.

  “Yes!”

  I curtly answered several questions about whether there was a crime wave of robberies with young perpetrators, whether the girl had been armed, and if there might be some criminal gang that had started to involve children in their illegal activities. I was amazed at the journalists’ inventive theories, but I didn’t have time to sit and chat on the phone. It wouldn’t be long before Claes started asking questions about what I had produced in the investigation. I needed to make it seem as if I was working hard to solve the two robberies.

  Producers from Sweden’s Most Wanted had called a number of times after the first robbery, wanting to have the case on the program. I’d firmly said no, but now it was time. It would be a clear sign that I was doing everything I could to help the investigation. I picked up the phone and was connected to the production director, who explained that the week’s program was full but that he could postpone another feature to include it.

  “Is there any surveillance video we can show?” he asked.

  “A bloody, naked seven-year-old is not something we can run in prime time,” I answered. “It will have to be without.”

  As usual they wanted to have the investigator on the program. I wasn’t keen on the attention, but it was important to show outwardly that I was doing everything I could.

  It was not the first time I had been on Sweden’s Most Wanted, so I knew the procedure. First a short clip would be shown of the investigator talking about the crime, followed by the program’s own pieced-together reporting on the event. The r
eporting was often ludicrous in its desire for excitement and drama à la CSI.

  I had never liked the idea that the government, week after week, supplied a commercially funded channel with information that meant they brought in enormous sums in advertising revenue. I had nothing against the program as such — it was a good way to get the general public involved and to find individuals willing to help solve crimes — but it shouldn’t have been shown on an advertising-financed channel.

  For my purpose, however, it was fine. The reporter wanted to meet me the next day in the Old Town, outside the Forex office that had been robbed.

  Claes stuck his head in my office.

  “Leona, you haven’t left yet. What are you doing?”

  “I was just contacting the producers at Sweden’s Most Wanted. They won’t have time to feature the girl robbery tomorrow, but it’ll be included on the show Wednesday next week. We’ll need the general public’s help, and at the same time this will show that we’re treating the case seriously. Obviously I’m putting most of my energy into finding the girl.”

  I threw on my jacket, grabbed hold of my bag, and headed toward the corridor.

  “Good. You need to start getting control of this, Leona.”

  Appearing on Sweden’s Most Wanted now was perfect timing. From sheer reflex, I pressed the answer button on the phone without looking to see who was calling.

  “Leona, it’s me, Christer.”