Free Silenced by Kristina Ohlsson Page B

been on the steps for long, because his hand was still warm. And large. Alex had never seen such large hands before.
    ‘Let’s go in,’ said Ragnar Vinterman in a deep voice. ‘Alice, our parish assistant, has provided some refreshments.’
    There were coffee cups and a generous plate of buns set out on one of the big tables in the parish rooms. Other than that, the whole place looked deserted, and Alex could feel how chilly the place was even before he took off his coat. Joar kept his on.
    ‘I’m sorry it’s so cold,’ said Ragnar with a sigh. ‘We’ve been trying to sort out the heating here for years; we almost despair of ever getting it to work. Coffee?’
    They accepted the hot drinks gladly.
    ‘I should probably start by expressing condolences,’ Alex said cautiously as he put down his cup.
    Ragnar nodded slowly, head bowed.
    ‘It’s a huge loss to the parish,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s going to take us a very long time to get over it. The grieving process is going to be hard work for us all.’
    The man’s bearing and voice filled Alex with instinctive trust in him. Alex’s daughter would have said that the vicar had the body of a senior athlete.
    The vicar ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair.
    ‘Here in the church we always follow the saying “Hope for the best but prepare for the worst”, but to do that you need to form a clear view of what the worst conceivable thing would be.’
    He stopped abruptly and fiddled with his coffee cup.
    ‘I fear we who work and worship here had not really done that on this occasion.’
    Alex frowned.
    ‘I don’t think I quite understand.’
    ‘Everybody here knew about Jakob’s health problems,’ he said, meeting Alex’s gaze. ‘But only a few of us knew how bad things sometimes got for him. Only a handful of colleagues and parishioners knew he had had electric shock treatment several times, for example. When he was in the clinic we would generally say he was at a health resort or away on holiday. He preferred it that way.’
    ‘Was he afraid of being seen as weak?’ asked Joar.
    Ragnar turned his gaze to the younger man.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ he answered, leaning back in his chair slightly. ‘And he knew, just as we did, that there are so many preconceptions about the condition he suffered from.’
    ‘We gather he’d been living with it for a long time,’ said Alex, kicking himself for not yet having got hold of Jakob’s doctor.
    ‘For decades,’ sighed the vicar. ‘Ever since his teens, really. Thank goodness treatment in that area has made such strides as time has gone on. From what I can understand, those early years were pretty ghastly for him. His mother was apparently diagnosed with the same thing.’
    ‘Is she still with us?’ asked Joar.
    ‘No,’ said the vicar, and drank some coffee. ‘She took her own life when Jakob was fourteen. That was when he decided to take holy orders.’
    Alex gave a shudder. Some problems seemed to pass from generation to generation like a relay baton.
    ‘What’s your view on what happened yesterday evening?’ he said tentatively, seeking eye contact.
    ‘You mean do I think Jakob did it? Did he shoot Marja and then himself?’
    Alex nodded.
    Ragnar swallowed several times, looking past Alex and Joar and out of the window at the snow covering the trees and ground.
    ‘I’m afraid I think that is exactly what happened.’
    As if he had just realised that he was sitting very uncomfortably, he shifted position on his chair and put one knee over the other. His big hands rested on his lap.
    The only other sound was that of Joar’s pen at work, adding to the half-page of notes he already had.
    ‘He was in such a wretched state those last two days,’ Ragnar said, his voice strained. ‘And I regret, yes, I regret with all my heart that I didn’t sound the alarm and at least tell Marja everything.’
    ‘Such as what?’ asked Alex.
    ‘About Karolina,’ said Ragnar, leaning forward over