Free Dark Secrets by Michael Hjorth Page A

“I am the Truth, the Way and the Light” were picked out in red beads. The woman opposite Vanja followed her gaze.
    “Lisa made that when she had chicken pox. She was eleven. She had a bit of help, of course.”
    “It’s lovely,” said Vanja.
And slightly scary
, she added to herself. The woman, who had introduced herself as Ann-Charlotte when she opened the door and let Vanja in, nodded contentedly at the praise and took a small sip of her tea. She put down the cup.
    “Yes, she’s very talented, is our Lisa. There are more than five thousand beads in that picture! Isn’t that fantastic?”
    Ann-Charlotte reached for a crispbread and began to butter it. Vanja couldn’t help wondering how they knew that. Had they counted the beads? She was about to ask when Ann-Charlotte replaced the butter knife and looked at her, her brow furrowed with concern.
    “It’s terrible, what’s happened. To Roger. We prayed for him the whole week he was missing.”
    And much good it did
, thought Vanja, making noises that she hoped indicated agreement and sympathy, while at the same time casting aslightly exaggerated glance at the clock. A gesture that Ann-Charlotte seemed to understand.
    “I’m sure Lisa will be down at any moment. If we’d known you were coming, then…” Ann-Charlotte spread her hands apologetically.
    “It’s fine. I’m grateful for the opportunity to speak to her.”
    “No problem. Anything we can do to help. How’s his mother? Lena, isn’t it? She must be absolutely devastated.”
    “I haven’t met her,” said Vanja, “but I’m sure you’re right. Was Roger her only child?”
    Ann-Charlotte nodded and suddenly looked even more worried, as if most of the world’s troubles had just landed on her shoulders.
    “They haven’t had an easy time of it. Things have been a bit difficult financially for a while, as I understand it, and then there was all that trouble at Roger’s previous school. Although things seemed to be working out for him recently. And then this happens.”
    “What kind of trouble at his previous school?” Vanja said.
    “He was bullied,” she heard from the doorway.
    Both Vanja and Ann-Charlotte turned. Lisa was standing there. Her straight hair hung down over her shoulders, still wet but neatly brushed, the bangs swept up with a plain clip. She was dressed in a white shirt buttoned right to the top, with a plain knit vest over it. Around her neck she wore a gold cross, with the chain looped over one side of her collar. Her skirt ended just above the knee, and she wore opaque tights. Vanja thought of the girl in some seventies TV series that had been repeated when she was little. Not least because of the girl’s serious, slightly sullen expression. She got up and held out her hand to the girl, who came into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the end of the table.
    “Hello, Lisa—my name is Vanja Lithner. I’m a police officer.”
    “I’ve already spoken to the police,” replied Lisa as she took Vanja’s outstretched hand, squeezed it briefly, and bent her knees in a small curtsey. Then she sat down. Ann-Charlotte got up and fetched a teacup from one of the cupboards.
    “I know,” Vanja went on, “but I work in a different department, and I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t mind speaking to me as well, even if I ask the same questions.”
    Lisa shrugged her shoulders and reached for the box of muesli. She shook a considerable pile into the bowl in front of her.
    “When you say Roger was bullied at his previous school, do you know who was bullying him?”
    Lisa shrugged her shoulders again.
    “Everybody, I think. He didn’t have any friends there, anyway. He didn’t really like talking about it. He was just glad he’d left there and come to our school instead.” Lisa reached for the yogurt and covered the muesli with a thick layer. Ann-Charlotte placed a cup of tea in front of her daughter.
    “Roger was a wonderful boy. Calm. Sensitive. Mature for his