Killer's Island Page 4

  “You got a smoke?” The tall one was standing less than three feet from her. His breath stank of alcohol. His gaze was bloodshot and wild.

  “Sorry. I don’t smoke” she minced.

  “I couldn’t hear, what did you say?” His face came right up close and she backed away automatically.

  “Shit, you’re pushing?” The voice belonged to the guy behind her. He was shorter and had slightly protruding front teeth. His muscles tensed under the rolled up sleeves of his hooded jacket.

  “So you don’t have a cigarette?” The tall one rattled his chain.

  She shook her head. Her voice could no longer be relied on.

  She saw his green-gray eyes flick from side to side. As long as he didn’t touch her, as long as he limited himself to words, everything would be all right, she told herself. She had to keep it on that level. If she remained polite and cooperative, they would let her pass.

  “You have to offer us something else, then.” He grabbed hold of her between her legs, tightening and maintaining his grip. She tried to push his hand away but he was so much stronger. It hurt. At first she was more frightened than disgusted. The disgust came later… and would not go away. He jeered at her. She felt a hand on her shoulder. The third guy was standing right by her. His pulled-down baseball cap covered the upper part of his face. He was slimmer than the others. Just a gray shadow. Three against one. The lane was deserted.

  “Leave me alone! Please, let me go.”

  “Depends if you’re a good girl and do what we say.…”He released his grip and started opening his fly.

  The other laughed. She got a shove in the back. Her arm was wrenched and someone pressed down her head.

  “I don’t want to. Leave me alone.”

  “If you scream we’ll cut your throat, you got that?” His grip hardened. “Do you get it?” He pulled down his underpants. His purple-blue skin down there glowed under a straggly covering of hair.

  “Yes.” She was forced down on her knees. Caught the smell of genitals; the nausea came over her in a torrent. She sobbed and cried. He slapped her face and cursed. At that moment a door opened in the apartment opposite, and the neighbor emerged with his dogs. The gang dissolved and were gone as suddenly as they had first appeared.

  “Can I help you with anything? Are you okay?” Harry, her friendly neighbor, was standing next to her, ready to help her up on her feet. Her knees shook and she was having difficulty regaining her balance. “It’s easily done, having a few more than you can take when you’re enjoying yourself with friends. Can you manage on your own?” He clucked with laughter and turned his friendly eyes on her.

  “Yes, yes, I can.” She tottered along like an old woman. “It’s not like you think,” she tried to say. But he winked at her, clearly unwilling to listen to any excuses.

  “Well, we’ve all been there. But I think I was a bit younger than you when I tested the limits. Oh the parties!” He tugged at the lead. “Mirabel, Gordon! All right, I know you’re in a hurry. We’ll have to walk on. They’re impatient.”

  She would have liked to tell him. Explain the situation, what had happened. But his joviality was so dense that she didn’t have the strength to force her way through it.

  Linn stumbled through the gate. She locked her front door behind her with fumbling hands, wedged a chair under the door handle and got out the biggest kitchen knife she could find. Her pulse thundered rapidly in her body and she was too frightened to relax, sitting there with the lights off, almost bursting with tension and staring into the darkness. Had they noted where she lived? As she stumbled toward the door she hadn’t given a thought to that. All she’d wanted was to save herself and shut the door behind her. Now she cursed her stupidity. She should have told Harry what had happened. She could have asked him to come inside, into the safety of his house. But something in her had resisted. It was partly his whole interpretation of the situation, partly the shame, the shame that was not hers – yet nonetheless it was there, in all its stickiness. “Things like this don’t happen to good girls. It was your own fault!” Who would believe her if even Harry – and he was kindness itself – didn’t? Why would the police see things any different? She’d have to go through the whole repulsive thing again. Then, maybe, in the end, they wouldn’t even believe her. Anyway, nothing had happened. Or had it? Certainly it hadn’t been rape. Sexual molestation, what was the punishment for that? No, she didn’t want to put herself through all that. She didn’t want to explain the nauseating thing that had happened in interviews, to strangers, who might nonetheless conclude that was she partly to blame. Why didn’t you resist? Yes, why not? Because I tried to get out of the situation without violence; they were stronger than me and I was outnumbered. But there was also something else. My body would not obey me, it turned to rubber and couldn’t be relied on. She’d been unable to run, only totter along, half-paralyzed. So unsure on her feet that Harry had thought she was drunk.

  Linn lay down on the bed. She was determined to sleep with her clothes on, and her sneakers. The knife was on her bedside table, and a baseball bat. The cell phone lay next to her in the bed. It was past midnight, she had a few hours to sleep before she had to get back to work, fully focused on her patients and solicitously avoiding mistakes. She had to call Sara before she fell asleep. If Sara were to get worried, she’d take the car and come to her. Nothing could stop her. But there were a thousand eyes in her street! Someone would see Sara coming in the middle of the night and then tell Claes. It mustn’t happen, not now! Not before she’d thought it all through clearly and decided what to do. Linn felt her tiredness like an iron band round her head. There was a creeping sensation in her body. There would be no sleep. She had to call Sara.

  Two souls and one thought. When the cell phone rang, Linn jumped bolt upright in the bed.

  “I wanted to hear if you were still alive. You haven’t forgotten me, have you? My name is Sara and I’m your love.”

  “There was a lot on at work. I only just got home.”

  “I miss you. It’s lonely here.”

  “I miss you, too, more than you think.”

  “Has anything happened?”

  “No, things just messed up. We had a patient brought out of intensive care right at the end. They didn’t have space for him, a boy came in who’d been assaulted. Has there been anything about it on the radio yet?”

  “I didn’t hear anything. How are you?”

  “I’m so insanely tired.”

  “So I’m going to let you sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. Did you decide yet if you’re going to tell Claes about us? You have to decide, Linn. You know that, don’t you? You can’t play it both ways. I can’t take it.”

  “I’m going to talk to him. As soon as he comes home. I promise. Love you. So enormously.” The words were the right ones, but she couldn’t quite manage to make her voice sound convincing.

  “I love you. And soon we have to be very brave.” Sara inhaled.

  “When we’re together we’re really brave. Good night.” Linn didn’t have the strength to carry on talking.

  There wasn’t a chance of Linn being able to sleep. The feeling of vulnerability made her too frightened to stay in bed. She lived on the ground floor and someone could easily break a porch window. She listened for sounds in the street. Wandered from room to room. Looked at the things she and Claes had bought together. The big wedding photo, printed on canvas like a painting. She was in a creamy white plunge-back dress with a prudishly high collar; he, in a black dinner jacket and a pink bow tie and short-trimmed hair. How very young they’d been. They knew so little about each other, about love. They had never stormed the gates of heaven. It was more of a friendship, a warm and comfortable embrace. She had called it love. Before she met Sara, she’d believed that’s what it was. Linn touched the necklace she wore. Since the wedding she’d worn it every day. It had been a gift from Claes’s mother, a precious heirloom passed down for generations. It had become a part of her. Rather than the wedd
ing band, which she could not wear at work anyway, the necklace had become symbolic of the fact that she was Mrs. Bogren.

  Most of the furniture had been bought second-hand on the Internet. For less than twenty-five thousand kronor they’d put together all their household goods. Expensive quality furnishings costing trifling amounts. She didn’t want to keep any of it. Those things would always be associated with the life she’d lived with Claes, and they would not fit with Sara’s light interiors and Bohemian style.

  A sound from the street catapulted Linn back into the fear she’d managed to push away for a moment. The gate screeched slightly. Steps on the gravel path. She tensed her ears to the utmost, then ducked under the window as she quickly returned to the bedroom, where she pocketed the cell phone and picked up the knife. Then she crawled behind the sofa. There was a careful knock at the door. From her hiding place, in the faint light, she could see the door handle being pressed down. Her heart was racing in her chest. She held her breath until she thought she’d suffocate. There was another knock. Then, after what seemed an eternity, she heard the steps on the gravel again. The porch door handle was also pressed down. What would she do if the window were broken?

  Everything went back to silence. Nothing happened. The trees out there swayed lazily in the wind, scratching against the walls. She tried to tell herself it was only a branch scraping the façade. There… a face in the window. She couldn’t see who it was. His hands were cupped and his nose pressed to the windowpane.

  Linn wanted to scream, but the sound lodged in her throat. She dialed the first two digits of the number to the emergency services and waited. If she reported these guys they’d find out who she was, and then she might never have a moment’s peace again.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE WAITING ROOM AT the health center was filled to bursting. Linn was trying to concentrate, reading a report on insomnia in a magazine, when the doctor emerged and shook her hand.

  “Please!” Anders Ahlström pointed at the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “You work here sometimes, don’t you?” He had a vague memory of having spoken to her not too long ago in the coffee room.

  “I got a job here recently but I’m working at the hospital over the summer.” She twisted. “I need the money. I’m taking my vacation in the autumn this year.”

  He nodded by way of an answer. The computer was on, the printer fan whined. “What can I do for you?”

  “I can’t go on like this!” Linn Bogren’s eyes filled up. “I’m too exhausted for work.” She covered her eyes with her hand, could not quite face meeting the doctor’s sympathetic gaze.

  Anders Ahlström handed over a few tissues and waited for her to go on. When she remained silent, he asked: “Why are you too exhausted to work?”

  When Linn still couldn’t regain control over her voice, he continued: “Has anything happened at work that makes it difficult for you to go? And this stays between us.”

  “No, no, it’s not like that.” Linn wiped her runny nose and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.” I like my work, both here and at the hospital. It feels meaningful and I like my colleagues. But I need to go on sick leave because I can’t sleep. I think I’ll go mad if I don’t get a full night’s sleep.”

  “I understand.” Anders had seen many patients in the same situation. “What exactly is your sleeping problem, can you describe it?”

  She sighed heavily. “Every scrap of advice I’ve been given, I’ve tried to put into practice. I listen to relaxation tapes. I don’t work out before sleeping, don’t eat too much, don’t drink coffee, no alcohol. I wait until I’m tired before I go to bed, the bedroom is dark and cool. And still I don’t sleep… the clock ticks away and midnight starts closing in and I get stressed out because I know I have to get up and be on time for morning report. The night shift has to go home in the morning. They hate it if you’re late. I’ve always been a morning person, so it’s never been a problem getting up early, not at all.”

  “So you’re working shifts right now? C shift until 11 p.m. and then A shift? You start at 7 a.m.?”

  “Well, the worst is when I’ve done the evening shift and have to be up early in the morning. It’s been like this all year, that’s why I applied for the position at the healthcare center. I thought it would make a difference working normal hours. I know what you’re going to say, that I should drop my summer job at the hospital. But I can’t afford to.”

  “Are you taking any medicine?” The doctor glanced at the note made by the receptionist when Linn called to book a time.

  “I’ve tried sleeping pills. They help me sleep for a short while, then I often wake up frightened. In a panic. It feels like someone’s watching me through the window, so I let all the blinds down. I’ve even taped up all the cracks so no one outside can spy on me. But I feel like I can hear steps on the stairs outside. And even though I’m so terribly frightened I make myself open the door to have a look. There’s never anyone there. I fall into a doze and dream and suddenly there’s someone in my bedroom. He has a knife and he slashes at me. I try to roll out of the way and he misses a few times and stabs the mattress, then gets me in the stomach. Here.…” She showed him an area at the top of her ribs where the anxiety tended to manifest itself.

  “Have you ever been robbed or been subjected to anything else that’s frightened you?” Carefully he studies the reaction in her face as she thinks about it. She shakes her head, blushing and then nodding.

  “I thought I saw a face in the window last Friday. Someone who was in my garden, staring at me. But it never happened again. Maybe it was just my imagination. This isn’t the reason why I’m asking for help. I need stronger sleeping pills to cope with my job this summer. The nightmares started before I saw the face in the window, but they’ve grown worse since then. That same night I ran into a gang of boys and they frightened me. They were making trouble, I couldn’t do anything about it.… If my neighbor hadn’t come by at that precise moment anything could have happened.” Linn smoothed back a dark lock of hair from her face.

  Anders Ahlström fingered his prescription pad. How easy it would have been to write out the prescription she wanted, then bring in the next patient. He was already behind schedule because he allowed his patients to say what they had to say, then followed up with questions and listened to their replies. In the long term it was actually a time-saving device. Confident patients did not call back as often. If they received proper help the first time round they didn’t have to come back. But in the short term it led to annoyance, less from the patients who had to wait than from his colleagues, who often did not get home on time.

  “Is there anything else weighing on you?” He scrutinized her intensely, with a feeling she was not telling him the whole truth. “There’s no rush. I have time to listen until you’ve told me everything.”

  “No, not exactly.” She fixed her eyes on the prescription pad. All he had to do was to scribble something on it and she wouldn’t bother him any more.

  “That face you saw last Friday night… was it real? Were you dreaming?” He rolled back his office chair slightly, to give her space.

  “I’m pretty sure it was real.” Linn sighed audibly. He had to believe her. She didn’t have the energy to be called into question.

  “So there was a stranger in your garden in the middle of the night and he pressed his face to your window. That’s a disturbance of the peace. Did you report it to the police?”

  “No, nothing happened. Sleeping pills, that’s what I need. Just do me a favor, will you. I know they’re addictive, I won’t take them unless I have to. Please.…” She shifted in her chair. He could hear she was on the verge of tears.

  “If I thought sleeping pills were the solution to your problem I’d write you a prescription right away. But quite honestly I don’t think I’d be doing you much of a favor. With pills you don’t sleep as well. Just like with alcohol. It’s easier to go to sleep, but you sleep much worse. I can arrange an appointment wit
h a colleague who works with insomniacs.” It wasn’t easy saying no to Linn Bogren – after all, they were colleagues. But how many suicides were assisted by prescription drugs issued by doctors? Too many. Something about Linn’s attitude worried him. There was a disturbing level of anguish under the surface, he grew more and more sure of this as their conversation unfolded. What worried him most of all was her absolute determination to get hold of the pills. It would be difficult for her to amass enough pills at work because they monitored everything. But surely she’d also be able to get hold of a few more pills there if she really wanted to. Patients fell asleep before they’d taken their evening medicines. Drugs were discarded once they passed their expiration dates or when patients left the hospital. Any pills he gave her now and a few more she could procure for herself would be enough for a one-way ticket to eternity. He wasn’t usually so suspicious, but he had a gut feeling this time.

  “An appointment! Thanks a lot. You know as well as I do it’ll take months before I get to see your colleague. I need to sleep now. If I don’t get some help soon I’ll kill myself.” She burst into floods of tears and he looked on helplessly. He knew she was right in what she was saying, it probably would take months.

  “If you’d rather talk to a psychologist that might be a little quicker. I get a feeling you’re not telling me the whole truth, Linn. Maybe you don’t think it has anything to do with me. In order to be able to help you, I have to know why I am giving you the medicine.”