THE ICE CHILD

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Also by Camilla Lackberg

The Ice Princess

The Preacher
The Stonecutter
The Stranger (previously titled The Gallows Bird)
The Hidden Child
The Drowning
The Lost Boy
Buried Angels
Short stories
The Scent of Almonds & Other Stories

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CAMILLA LACKBERG

The Ice Child

Translated from the Swedish by Tiina Nunnally

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HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
1
Copyright Camilla Lackberg 2014
Published by agreement with Nordin Agency, Sweden
Translation copyright Tiina Nunnally 2016
Originally published in 2014 by
Bokfrlaget Forum, Sweden, as Lejontmjaren
Camilla Lackberg asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-00-751833-3
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
Set in Meridien by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior
permission of the publishers.

FSC is a non-profit international organisation established to promote

the responsible management of the worlds forests. Products carrying the
FSC label are independently certified to assure consumers that they come
from forests that are managed to meet the social, economic and
ecological needs of present and future generations,
and other controlled sources.
Find out more about HarperCollins and the environment at
www.harpercollins.co.uk/green

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For Simon

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The horse could smell the fear even before the girl emerged
from the woods. The rider urged the horse on, digging
her heels into the animals flanks, though it wasnt really
necessary. They were so in tune that her mount sensed
her wishes almost before she did.
The muted, rhythmic sound of the horses hooves broke
the silence. During the night a thin layer of snow had fallen,
and the stallion now ploughed new tracks, making the
powdery snow spray up around his hooves.
The girl didnt run. She moved unsteadily, in an irregular
pattern with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso.
The rider shouted. A loud cry, and the horse understood that something wasnt right. The girl didnt reply,
merely staggered onward.
As they approached her, the horse picked up the pace.
The strong, rank smell of fear was mixed with something
else, something indefinable and so terrifying that he pressed
his ears back. He wanted to stop, turn around, and gallop
back to the secure confines of his stall. This was not a safe
place to be.
The road was between them. Deserted now, with new
snow blowing across the asphalt like a silent mist.
The girl continued towards them. Her feet were bare,
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and the pink of her naked arms and legs contrasted sharply
with all the white surrounding her, with the snow-covered
spruces forming a white backdrop. They were close now,
on either side of the road, and the horse heard the rider
shout again. Her voice was so familiar, yet it had a strange
ring to it.
Suddenly the girl stopped. She stood in the middle of
the road with snow whirling about her feet. There was
something odd about her eyes. They were like black holes
in her white face.
The car seemed to come out of nowhere. The sound
of squealing brakes sliced through the stillness, followed
by the thump of a body landing on the ground. The
rider yanked so hard on the reins that the bit cut into
the stallions mouth. He obeyed and stopped abruptly.
She was him, and he was her. That was what hed been
taught.
On the ground the girl lay motionless. With those
peculiar eyes of hers staring up at the sky.
Erica Falck paused in front of the prison and for the first
time studied it closely. On her previous visits she had
been so busy thinking about who she was going to meet
that she hadnt given the building or its setting more than
a cursory glance. But she would need to give readers a
sense of the place when she wrote her book about Laila
Kowalski, the woman who had so brutally murdered her
husband Vladek many years ago.
She pondered how to convey the atmosphere that
pervaded the bunker-like building, how she could capture
the air of confinement and hopelessness. The prison was
located about a thirty-minute drive from Fjllbacka, in a
remote and isolated spot surrounded by fences and barbed
wire, though it had none of those towers manned by
armed guards that always featured in American films. It
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had been constructed with only one purpose in mind,

and that was to keep people inside.
From the outside the prison looked unoccupied, but
she knew the reverse was true. Funding cuts and a tight
budget meant that as many people as possible were
crowded into every space. No local politician was about
to risk losing votes by proposing that money should be
invested in a new prison. The county would just have to
make do with the present structure.
The cold had begun to seep through Ericas clothes, so
she headed towards the entrance. When she entered the
reception area, the guard listlessly glanced at her ID and
nodded without raising his eyes. He stood up, and she
followed him down a corridor as she thought about how
hectic her morning had been. Every morning was a trial
these days. To say that the twins had entered an obstinate
stage was an understatement. For the life of her she
couldnt recall Maja ever being so difficult when she was
two, or at any age. Noel was the worst. He had always
been the more energetic one, but Anton was all too
happy to follow his lead. If Noel screamed, he screamed
too. It was a miracle that her eardrums and Patriks, for
that matter were still intact, given the decibel level
at home.
And what a pain it was to get them into their winter
clothes. She gave her armpit a discreet sniff. She smelled
faintly of sweat. It had taken her so long to wrestle the
twins into their clothes so she could take them and Maja
to the day-care centre, she hadnt had time to change.
Oh well. She wasnt exactly going to a social gathering.
The guards key ring clanked as he unlocked the door
and showed Erica into the visitors room. It seemed so
old-fashioned that they still made use of keys in this place.
But of course it would be easier to get hold of the combination to a coded lock than to steal a key. Maybe it wasnt
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so strange that old measures often prevailed over more

modern solutions.
Laila was sitting at the only table in the room. Her face
was turned towards the window, and the winter sun
streaming through the pane formed a halo around her
blond hair. The bars on the window made squares of light
on the floor, and dust motes floated in the air, revealing
that the room hadnt been cleaned as thoroughly as it
should have been.
Hi, said Erica as she sat down.
She wondered why Laila had agreed to see her again.
This was their third meeting, and Erica had made no
progress at all. Initially Laila had refused to meet with
her, no matter how many imploring letters Erica had sent
or how many phone calls shed made. Then a few months
ago Laila had suddenly acquiesced. Perhaps the visits were
a welcome break from the monotony of prison life. Erica
planned to keep visiting if Laila continued to agree to see
her. It had been a long time since shed felt such a strong
urge to tell a story, and she couldnt do it without Lailas
help.
Hi, Erica. Laila turned and fixed her unusual blue eyes
on her visitor. At their first meeting, Erica had been
reminded of those dogs they used to pull sleds. Huskies.
Laila had eyes like a Siberian husky.
Why do you want to see me if you dont want to talk
about the case? asked Erica, getting right to the point.
She immediately regretted her choice of words. For Laila,
what had happened was not a case. It was a tragedy and
something that still tormented her.
Laila shrugged.
I dont get any other visitors, she said, confirming Ericas
suspicions.
Erica opened her bag and took out a folder containing
newspaper articles, photos, and notes.
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Well, Im not giving up, she said, tapping on the folder.

I suppose thats the price I have to pay if I want
company, said Laila, revealing the unexpected sense of
humour that Erica had occasionally glimpsed. She had
seen pictures of Laila before it all happened. She hadnt
been conventionally beautiful, but she was attractive in a
different and compelling way. Back then her blond hair
had been long, and in most of the photos she wore it
loose and straight. Now it was cropped short, and cut the
same length all over. Not exactly what you would call a
hairstyle. Just cut in a way that showed it had been a long
time since Laila had cared about her appearance. And why
should she? She hadnt been out in the real world for
years. Who would she put on make-up for in here? The
nonexistent visitors? The other prisoners? The guards?
You look tired today. Laila studied Ericas face. Was
it a rough morning?
Rough morning, rough night, and presumably just as
rough this afternoon. But thats the way it is when you
have young children. Erica sighed heavily and tried to
relax. She noticed how tense she was after the stress of
the morning.
Peter was always so sweet, said Laila as a veil lowered
over those blue eyes of hers. Not even a trace of stubbornness that I remember.
You told me the first time we met that he was a very
quiet child.
Yes. In the beginning we thought there was something
wrong with him. He didnt make a sound until he was
three. I wanted to take him to a specialist, but Vladek
refused. She shivered and her hands abruptly curled
into fists as they lay on the table, though she didnt seem
aware of it.
What happened when Peter was three?
One day he just started talking. In complete sentences.
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With a huge vocabulary. He lisped a bit, but otherwise it

was as if he had always talked. As if those years of silence
had never existed.
And you were never given any explanation?
No. Who would have explained it to us? Vladek didnt
want to ask anyone for help. He always said that strangers
shouldnt get mixed up in family matters.
Why do you think Peter was silent for so long?
Laila turned to look out of the window, and the sun
once again formed a halo around her cropped blond hair.
The furrows that the years had etched into her face were
mercilessly evident in the light. As if forming a map of
all the suffering she had endured.
He probably realized it was best to make himself as
invisible as possible. Not to draw attention to himself.
Peter was a clever boy.
What about Louise? How old was she when she started
to talk? Erica held her breath. So far Laila had pretended
not to hear any of the questions that pertained to her
daughter.
It was no different today.
Peter loved arranging things. He wanted everything to
be nice and orderly. When he was a baby he would stack
up blocks in perfect, even towers, and he was always so
sad when . . . Laila stopped abruptly.
Erica noticed how Laila had clenched her jaws shut,
and she tried to use sheer willpower to coax Laila to go
on, to let out what she had so carefully locked up inside.
But the moment had passed. The same thing had happened
during Ericas previous visits. Sometimes it felt as though
Laila were standing on the edge of an abyss, wishing deep
in her heart that she could throw herself into the chasm.
As if she wanted to pitch forward but was stopped by
stronger forces, which made her once again retreat into
the safety of shadows.
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It was no accident that Erica was thinking about

shadows. The first time theyd met, she had a feeling that
Laila was living a shadow existence. A life running parallel
to the life she should have had, the life that had vanished
into a bottomless pit on that day so many years ago.
Do you ever feel like youre going to lose patience
with your sons? That youre about to cross that invisible
boundary? Laila sounded genuinely interested, but her
voice also had a pleading undertone.
It was not an easy question to answer. All parents have
probably felt a moment when they approached that
borderline between what is permitted and what isnt,
standing there and silently counting to ten as they think
about what they could do to put an end to the commotion and upheaval exploding in their heads. But there
was a big difference between acknowledging that feeling
and acting on it. So Erica shook her head.
I could never do anything to hurt them.
At first Laila didnt answer as she continued to stare at
Erica with those bright blue eyes of hers. But when the
guard knocked on the door to say that visiting time was
over, Laila said quietly, her gaze still fixed on Erica:
Thats what you think.
Erica recalled the photographs in the folder and shuddered.
Tyra was grooming Fanta with steady strokes of the brush.
She always felt better when she was around the horses.
She would have much preferred to be grooming Scirocco,
but Molly wouldnt let anyone else take care of him. It
was so unfair. Just because Mollys parents owned the
stable, she was allowed to do anything she wanted.
Tyra loved Scirocco. She had loved him from the first
moment she saw him. And the horse had looked at
her as if he understood her. It was a wordless form of
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communication that shed never experienced with any

other animal. Or even with any person. Not with her
mother. And not with Lasse. The mere thought of Lasse
made her brush Fanta harder, but the big white mare
didnt seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying
the strokes of the brush, snorting and moving her head
up and down as if bowing. For a moment Tyra thought
it looked like the mare were inviting her to dance. She
smiled and stroked Fantas grey muzzle.
Youre great too, she said, as if the horse had been
able to hear her thoughts about Scirocco.
Then she felt a pang of guilt. She looked at her hand
on Fantas muzzle and realized how trivial her jealousy
was.
You miss Victoria, dont you? she whispered, leaning
her head against the horses neck.
Victoria, who had been Fantas groom. Victoria, who
had been missing for several months. Victoria, who had
been who was Tyras best friend.
I miss her too. Tyra felt the mare nudging her cheek,
but it didnt comfort her as much as shed hoped.
She should have been in maths class right now, but on
this particular morning she hadnt felt able to put on a
cheerful face and fend off her worry. She had gone over
to the school bus stop but instead sought solace in the
stable, the only place where she could find any respite.
The grown-ups didnt understand. They saw only their
own anxiety, their own sorrow.
Victoria was more than a best friend. She was like a
sister. They had been friends from the first day of school
and had remained inseparable ever since. There was
nothing they hadnt shared. Or was there? Tyra no longer
knew for sure. During those last months before Victoria
disappeared, something had changed. It felt like a wall
had popped up between them. Tyra hadnt wanted to nag.
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It was no accident that Erica was thinking about

shadows. The first time theyd met, she had a feeling that
Laila was living a shadow existence. A life running parallel
to the life she should have had, the life that had vanished
into a bottomless pit on that day so many years ago.
Do you ever feel like youre going to lose patience
with your sons? That youre about to cross that invisible
boundary? Laila sounded genuinely interested, but her
voice also had a pleading undertone.
It was not an easy question to answer. All parents have
probably felt a moment when they approached that
borderline between what is permitted and what isnt,
standing there and silently counting to ten as they think
about what they could do to put an end to the commotion and upheaval exploding in their heads. But there
was a big difference between acknowledging that feeling
and acting on it. So Erica shook her head.
I could never do anything to hurt them.
At first Laila didnt answer as she continued to stare at
Erica with those bright blue eyes of hers. But when the
guard knocked on the door to say that visiting time was
over, Laila said quietly, her gaze still fixed on Erica:
Thats what you think.
Erica recalled the photographs in the folder and shuddered.
Tyra was grooming Fanta with steady strokes of the brush.
She always felt better when she was around the horses.
She would have much preferred to be grooming Scirocco,
but Molly wouldnt let anyone else take care of him. It
was so unfair. Just because Mollys parents owned the
stable, she was allowed to do anything she wanted.
Tyra loved Scirocco. She had loved him from the first
moment she saw him. And the horse had looked at
her as if he understood her. It was a wordless form of
7

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communication that shed never experienced with any

other animal. Or even with any person. Not with her
mother. And not with Lasse. The mere thought of Lasse
made her brush Fanta harder, but the big white mare
didnt seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying
the strokes of the brush, snorting and moving her head
up and down as if bowing. For a moment Tyra thought
it looked like the mare were inviting her to dance. She
smiled and stroked Fantas grey muzzle.
Youre great too, she said, as if the horse had been
able to hear her thoughts about Scirocco.
Then she felt a pang of guilt. She looked at her hand
on Fantas muzzle and realized how trivial her jealousy
was.
You miss Victoria, dont you? she whispered, leaning
her head against the horses neck.
Victoria, who had been Fantas groom. Victoria, who
had been missing for several months. Victoria, who had
been who was Tyras best friend.
I miss her too. Tyra felt the mare nudging her cheek,
but it didnt comfort her as much as shed hoped.
She should have been in maths class right now, but on
this particular morning she hadnt felt able to put on a
cheerful face and fend off her worry. She had gone over
to the school bus stop but instead sought solace in the
stable, the only place where she could find any respite.
The grown-ups didnt understand. They saw only their
own anxiety, their own sorrow.
Victoria was more than a best friend. She was like a
sister. They had been friends from the first day of school
and had remained inseparable ever since. There was
nothing they hadnt shared. Or was there? Tyra no longer
knew for sure. During those last months before Victoria
disappeared, something had changed. It felt like a wall
had popped up between them. Tyra hadnt wanted to nag.
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She thought that when the time was right, Victoria would
tell her what was going on. But time had run out, and
Victoria was gone.
Im sure shell come back, she now told Fanta, but
deep inside she had her doubts. Though no one would
admit it, they all knew that something bad must have
happened. Victoria was not the kind of girl to disappear
voluntarily, if such a person existed. She was too content
with her life, and she didnt have an adventurous nature.
She preferred to stay home or in the stable; she didnt
even want to go into Strmstad on the weekends. And
her family was nothing like Tyras. They were super nice,
even Victorias older brother. He had often given his sister
a lift to the stable early in the morning. Tyra used to love
visiting their home. Shed felt like one of the family.
Sometimes shed even wished that Victorias family was
hers. An ordinary, normal family.
Fanta gave her a gentle nudge. A few tears landed on
the mares muzzle, and Tyra quickly wiped her eyes with
her hand.
Suddenly she heard a sound outside the stable. Fanta
heard it too. The mare pushed her ears forward and raised
her head so swiftly that she rammed into Tyras chin. The
sharp taste of blood filled the girls mouth. She swore,
pressed her hand to her lips, and went outside to see
what was going on.
When she opened the stable door she was dazzled by
the sun, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the light and
she saw Valiant coming across the forecourt at full gallop
with Marta on his back. Marta pulled up so abruptly that
the stallion almost reared. She was shouting something.
At first Tyra didnt understand what she was saying, but
Marta kept on yelling. And finally the words made sense:
Victoria! Weve found Victoria!
*

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