EVERYONE WAS GATHERED. Sanna Johansson entered the reception area of the National Board of Forensic Medicine reception in Solna accompanied by Bernt Forsberg, Egon Bagge and Aina Bratt, a team of detectives from the Umeå Police Force.
A man’s body had been discovered behind a bush by two boys who were looking for their ball. They called the emergency services operator, who in turn had immediately contacted the police.
The victim was identified as Åke Pettersson, also known as Oxen. As procedure dictated, Sanna had been forced, somewhat unwillingly, to contact Chief Inspector Raino Cederberg in Umeå.
Her reluctance was, in no small part, due to the fact that Cederberg had been singularly uncooperative when Kalle and her had visited him at his office in Umeå with questions about Åke Pettersson.
To describe Cederberg as unhelpful was an understatement, to say the least. His main aim had been to hoodwink them into believing they were on the wrong track. In his view, Åke Pettersson was a well-liked and honourable citizen. Perhaps he had a bit of a volatile temperament, but that didn’t make him a criminal by default.
Whatever her views on the matter, since the victim was registered as living in Umeå, she wasn’t in a position to prevent the local police from getting involved in the case. She also knew that Raino Cederberg was a good friend of Åke Pettersson’s.
Cederberg had received the news of Oxen’s death with dismay.
He had contacted Blom and indicated his desire to take part in the investigation, emphasizing his willingness to contribute whatever resources necessary to ensure the guilty party was apprehended. This was more personal than an ordinary murder investigation. He was determined to find out who had murdered his friend and why.
The group introduced themselves and after a few minutes of casual small talk, Sanna began:
“I presume you’ve already been informed that four of Åke Pettersson’s friends were murdered under similarly strange circumstances and, as a consequence, we had reason to include him in our extensive investigation. The killer has a unique modus operandi.”
Aina Bratt nodded. “Do you have any suspects?”
“No, we’ve just begun our investigation into Pettersson’s death, but if it’s anything like the other murders the killer will have left no evidence. As a result, we still don’t know whether we’re looking for a man or a woman.”
“It must be a man!” added Egon Bagge.
Sanna glared at him.
“Ah, here comes the pathologist.” She walked over to greet a woman who was coming towards them.
“Welcome!” said Annika Sari. “Hi Sanna! It’s been a long time…”
“Yes, time flies,” replied Sanna with a smile.
The forensic pathologist nodded amiably to the visitors and shook hands with each of them. “This way,” she instructed.
They followed her down a long corridor.
Annika Sari paused outside a door then opened it releasing a blast of cold air. There was no mistaking the familiar smell of an autopsy room.
Åke Pettersson’s battered corpse was laid out on a slab. The group stared down at his rigid, naked body. It was a far from pleasant sight. The injuries he had sustained were clearly visible; his skin was pale and waxy and there was a fresh T-shaped incision in his chest and abdomen signifying that that the autopsy was still being carried out.
Sanna studied the victim. He bore no resemblance to the imposing, authoritative man she had met in Umeå. Using her iPhone camera, she took a photograph of the tattoo, which was clearly visible on his left arm.
Aina Bratt glanced at her disapprovingly.
“Cause of death?” asked Bernt Forsberg.
“I’ve just completed the preliminary autopsy report, but unfortunately haven’t been able to confirm the cause of death. We will perform an extended autopsy examination. All the injuries so far indicate that he was involved in a violent confrontation. We’ve noted a number of different wounds: heavy bleeding in the thorax and abdomen, as well as broken ribs, one of which has punctured a lung. However, at this stage I can’t confirm this as the cause of death.”
Bernt Forsberg sighed. Aina Bratt appeared displeased.
“One thing is clear. He must have met his match. I wouldn’t be surprised if you found another body nearby. At the very least his assailant must be seriously injured. Based on the wounds, we can determine that, apart from some kind of protracted struggle, he was kept prisoner and bound by the ankles and wrists. But, as I said, the injuries are typical for a fistfight. No weapons were used.” She separated the victim’s chest wall with a pair of surgical tongs. “As I mentioned earlier, a broken rib punctured one of his lungs, so asphyxia could be one of the main causes of death.”
“What do you mean – are there other possible causes?”
“Yes, it looks like the killer used his thumbs to gouge his eyes and block the flow of blood. He has extensive bruising in both eyeballs.”
The door opened and Raino Cederberg entered, somewhat out of breath.
“Sorry I’m late,” he puffed, glancing first at Sanna and then at the pathologist. He walked towards Pettersson’s corpse and looked down at it wistfully.
Sanna proceeded to fill him in on what they had learnt so far.
Cederberg sighed despondently.
Sanna leaned over to study the victim’s penis.
“Ulcerated,” said Annika Sari, who was standing beside her. “The attacker must have forced something inside causing it to bleed.”
“Can you check whether there’s anything there?” asked Sanna.
Annika Sari looked at her questioningly. She picked up a pair of tweezers and fished out a piece of paper.
“That’s a big one!” remarked Sanna. “The paper, I mean. It’s larger than in the other victims.”
The pathologist placed the item on a table and rinsed the blood away using a small bottle and a dropper. She studied the result carefully and then returned to the group.
“Rapist!” said Aina Bratt excitedly. “It says Rapist.”
Sanna was dumbfounded. Was this a new message or connected to the letters they had already found?
A long silence ensued.
Cederberg stared intently at the note.
“When will we get the extended autopsy report?” asked Sanna.
“Hopefully in two or three days. We’ll also get the blood results from the victim’s fists and clothes. We might be able to pinpoint the guilty party through the blood analysis.”
Cederberg looked troubled.
“Any burn wounds?” asked Sanna.
“Yes, several in fact. In the report I mention that one of the Taser shots left a deeper burn wound. Maybe that’s something to follow up?”
Sanna inspected a burn mark, which resembled one found on the Ingarö victim.
Sanna and Cederberg jotted down observations on their respective tablet computers.
“I think we’re done here,” said Sanna, glancing at Cederberg.
He nodded.
The group shuffled out of the autopsy room in hushed silence.
“What happens now?” asked Cederberg as soon as they reached the foyer.
Sanna checked the time on her iPhone. It was ten past five in the afternoon. “I have the car. Let’s continue the meeting at the police station.”
“Is there room for all of us?” asked Aina Bratt.
“Yes, I think so,” replied Sanna.
“I want to talk to Johansson. The rest of you take a taxi and we’ll meet you there,” instructed Cederberg.
His colleagues concurred and headed off to find transport.
“How far have you come in the investigation?” asked Cederberg.
“We’ve only just got started. We don’t know any more than what’s in the preliminary report.” Sanna unlocked the car and the two of them climbed in. She placed the key in the ignition, started the engine and manoeuvred the vehicle out of the parking spot. “Any idea what Pettersson was doing in Täby?” she asked, glancing over at Cederberg, who had gone rather quiet. “You know him well, don’t you?”
Cederberg scratched his forehead. “He was going to meet some friends, but I’ve no idea who – he was pretty tight lipped about his Stockholm visits.”
“At this point, all the indications are that he was killed by the same person who murdered his friends.”
Cederberg stared at Sanna. “I won’t relax until I… we find the son of a bitch who did this!” he growled.
“We need to find out what he was doing in Täby and who he met! Are you sure you don’t know why he visited Stockholm?” insisted Sanna.
Cederberg furrowed his brow. “Hmm, I’m curious about the blood test results,” he said, ignoring Sanna’s questions. “He had blood on his hands. I’m sure they will lead us to the killer.”
“Yes, and there was also blood on his clothes. These things take time, but we have to hope for the best. We know that all the victims met at a shooting range.”
“Hmm, yes I heard something like that but, as I said, he was rather hush hush about his Stockholm visits.”
“How did he spend his free time in Umeå? If we’re going to catch the killer we need to know everything about him.” Sanna concluded that Cederberg had no intention of cooperating with NBI. He wanted to gather as much information as possible and find the murderer himself.
SHE WAS CROUCHED IN a foetal position on the floor. Miraculously, she had managed to find her way home, but collapsed in the hallway as soon as she entered the apartment. The room was spinning. She felt nauseous and her whole body was shaking. She had lost a lot of blood and was clearly in need of medical attention. But her mind was in a fog. She had screwed up and now her DNA was all over Oxen’s apartment.
The slightest movement hurt. She gasped for air, slid down onto the floor and fell into a deep sleep.
SHE AWOKE WITH A START to the sound of voices and laughter in the stairwell. She opened her eyes and tried to orientate herself. Morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. Like a newborn roe deer, her legs buckled beneath her as she tried to stand up. The pain was unbearable but she had to keep trying. She was completely dehydrated and desperately needed a drink.
Grimacing, Kim pressed her hands against the wall and pulled herself up. Somehow she managed to reach the kitchen and pour herself a large glass of water. As the water gushed down her throat, she groaned and held her hand to her neck, but her thirst was more intense than the pain. She paused, then slowly sipped the liquid until the glass was empty.
Kim was engulfed by waves of despair. She was a physical and emotional wreck. She smiled ruefully and examined her injured thigh. A visit to the doctor was out of the question. Maybe she should call her cousin Sara who was a nurse. She didn’t want to involve anyone else but her options were limited. Of course she would have to come up with a credible story. Kim fumbled in her jeans pocket for her iPhone. She hesitated.
Instead of calling her cousin, she opened a cupboard and reached for a first aid box filled with an assortment of medications and medical equipment. She opened a bottle of disinfectant and cleaned the wound, gritting her teeth through the pain. Using a pair of tweezers, she opened the laceration carefully and examined it with a magnifying glass. When she was certain that the wound was absolutely clean she took out a transparent needle threaded with an absorbable suture, pressed the wound together with two fingers and began to sew.