And have you changed your mind now?
The Needle shakes his head and gets up with a groan. Slipped disc, he mutters, as he sets off down the hall.
Joona follows him as he limps slowly toward the postmortem unit. They pass a room containing a freestanding dissection table made of stainless steel; it looks like a drain board but with rectangular sections and a raised edge all around. They enter a cool room where bodies being examined by the forensic unit are preserved in drawers at a temperature of forty degrees Fahrenheit. The Needle stops and checks the number, pulls out a large drawer, and sees that its empty.
Gone, he says, and they return to the corridor. As they walk, Joona notices that the floor is marked with thousands of scuffs from the wheels of trolleys. They reach another room and The Needle holds the door open for Joona.
They are in a well-lit white-tiled room with a large hand basin on the wall. Water is trickling into a drain in the floor from a bright yellow hose. On the long dissection table, which is covered in plastic, lies a naked, colourless body marked with hundreds of black wounds.
Katja Ek, states Joona.
The dead womans face is remarkably calm; her mouth is half open and her eyes have a serene look about them. She looks as if she is listening to beautiful music, but her peaceful expression is at odds with the long, vicious slashes across her forehead and cheeks. Joona allows his gaze to roam over Katja Eks body, where a marbled veining has already begun to appear around her neck.
Were hoping to get the internal examination done this afternoon. Joona sighs. God, what a mess.
The other door opens and a young man with an uncertain smile comes in. He has several rings in his eyebrows, and his dyed black hair hangs down the back of his white coat in a ponytail. With a little smile, The Needle raises one fist in a hard rock greeting, pinkie and index finger aloft like devils horns, which the young man immediately reciprocates.
This is Joona Linna from National CID, The Needle explains. He comes to visit us now and again.
Frippe, says the young man, shaking hands with Joona.
Hes specializing in forensic medicine, says The Needle.
Frippe pulls on a pair of latex gloves, and Joona goes over to the table with him; the air surrounding the woman is cold and smells unpleasant.
Shes the one who was subjected to the least amount of violence, The Needle points out. Despite multiple cuts and stab wounds.
They contemplate the dead woman. Her body is covered in large and small punctures.
In addition, unlike the other two, she has not been mutilated or hacked to pieces, he goes on. The actual cause of death is not the wound in her neck but this one, which goes straight into the heart, according to the computer tomography. He indicates a relatively unimpressive-looking wound on her sternum.
But it is a little difficult to see the bleeds on the images, says Frippe.
Naturally, well check it out when we open her up, The Needle says to Joona.
She fought back, says Joona.
In my opinion she actively defended herself at first, replies The Needle, based on the wounds on the palms of her hands, but then she tried to escape and simply tried to protect herself.
The young doctor studies The Needle intently.
Look at the injuries on the outer arms, says The Needle.
Defensive wounds, mutters Joona.
Exactly.
Joona leans over and looks at the brownish-yellow patches that are visible in the womans open eyes.
Are you looking at the suns?
Yes.
You dont see them until a few hours after death; sometimes it can take several days, The Needle says to the young doctor. Theyll turn completely black in the end. Its because the pressure in the eye is dropping.
He picks up a reflex hammer and asks Frippe to see if any idiomuscular contractions remain. The young doctor taps the middle of the womans biceps and feels the muscle with his fingers, checking for con tractions.
Minimal, he says to The Needle.
They usually stop after thirteen hours, The Needle explains.
The dead are not completely dead, says Joona, shuddering as he detects a ghostly movement in Katja Eks limp arm.
Mortui vivis docent- the dead teach the living, replies The Needle, smiling to himself as he and Frippe ease her onto her stomach.
He points out the blotchy reddish-brown patches on her buttocks and the small of her back and across her shoulder blades and arms.
The hypostasis is faint when the victim has lost a lot of blood.
Obviously, says Joona.
Blood is heavy, and when you die there is no longer any internal pressure system, The Needle explains to Frippe. It might be obvious, but the blood runs downward and simply collects at the lowest points; its most often seen on surfaces that have been in contact with whatever the body was lying on.
He presses a patch on her right calf with his thumb until it almost disappears.
There, you see you can press them and make them disappear up to twenty-four hours after death.
But I thought I saw patches on her hips and chest, says Joona hesitantly.
Bravo, says The Needle, regarding him with a faintly surprised smile. I didnt think youd notice those.
So she was lying on her stomach when she was dead, before she was turned over, says Joona.
For two hours, Id guess.
So the perpetrator stayed for two hours. Or he came back to the scene. Or somebody else turned her over.
So she was lying on her stomach when she was dead, before she was turned over, says Joona.
For two hours, Id guess.
So the perpetrator stayed for two hours. Or he came back to the scene. Or somebody else turned her over.
The Needle shrugs his shoulders. Im a long way from finishing my assessment at this stage.
Can I ask something? I noticed that one of the wounds on the stomach looks like a C-section.
A C-section, says The Needle, smiling. Why not? Shall we have a look at it? The two doctors turn the body once again. This one, you mean? The Needle is pointing to a large cut extending about six inches downward from the navel.
Yes, replies Joona.
I havent had time to examine every injury yet.
Vulnera incisa, says Frippe.
Yes, it does look like an incision, says The Needle.
Not a stab wound, says Joona.
Frippe leans over so that he can see.
In view of the fact that its a straight line and the surface of the surrounding skin is intact. The Needle pokes inside the wound with his fingers. The walls, he goes on. Theyre not particularly blood-soaked, but-
What is it? asks Joona.
The Needle is looking at him very strangely. This cut was made after her death, he says. He pulls off his gloves. I need to look at the computer tomography, he says worriedly; he walks over, opens up the computer on the table by the door, clicks through the three-dimensional images, stops, moves on, and alters the angle. The wound appears to go into the womb, he whispers. It looks as if it follows old scars.
Old scars? What do you mean? asks Joona.
Youre the one who called it. The Needle smiles faintly. An emergency C-section scar.
He points at the vertical wound. As Joona looks more closely, he can see that all along one side there is a thin thread of old, pale-pink scar tissue, from a C-section that healed long ago.
But she wasnt pregnant? asks Joona.
No. The Needle laughs, pushing his aviators back.
Are we dealing with a murderer who has surgical skills? asks Joona.
The Needle shakes his head; Joona thinks about the fact that someone killed Katja Ek in a frenzy, with considerable violence, and came back two hours later, turned her over, and carefully cut open her old C-section scar.
See if theres anything similar on the other bodies.
Do you want us to make that a priority? asks The Needle. Yes, I think so.
Youre not sure?
Im sure.
So you want us to prioritize everything.
More or less. Joona is smiling as he leaves the room.
But as Joona gets into his car, he starts to shiver. He starts the engine, pulls out into Retzius Väg, turns up the heater, and keys in the number for Chief Prosecutor Jens Svanehjälm.
Svanehjälm.
Joona Linna.
Ah. Good morning. Ive just been talking to Carlos. He said youd be in touch.
Its a little difficult to say what were dealing with here, says Joona. Ive just left the forensic unit, and Im thinking of heading to the hospital; I really need to question the surviving witness.
Carlos explained the situation to me, says Jens. Have you got the profiling group started?
A profile wont be enough, replies Joona.
No, I know; I agree. If were to have any chance of protecting the older sister, we absolutely have to speak to the boy.
Joona suddenly sees a firework explode in complete silence: a pale blue star, far away above the roofs of Stockholm. He clears his throat. Im in touch with Susanne Granat at Social Services, and I was thinking of having Erik Maria Bark, the psychiatrist, with me during questioning. Hes an expert in the treatment of shock and trauma.
Thats perfectly in order, says Jens reassuringly.
In that case Ill go straight to the neurosurgical unit.
Good idea.
Chapter 15
Hurrying along the hospital corridor after dropping Benjamin off at school, Erik thinks how stupid he had been to comment on Aidas tattoo. He has just made himself look self-righteous and critical in their eyes.
Two uniformed police officers let him into the unit. Joona Linna is already waiting outside the room where Josef Ek is lying. When he sees Erik he gives a little wave, like a small child might, opening and closing his hand.
Erik looks in at Josef through the window in the door. A bag of blood, almost black, is suspended above him. His condition has stabilized somewhat, but theres still a risk of new bleeds in the liver. The nurse prepares an infusion of morphine.
He is lying on his back, his mouth tightly closed; his stomach is moving rapidly up and down, and his fingers twitch from time to time.
I was right when I said the perpetrator started at the soccer field, says Joona. He murdered Anders Ek first. Then he went to the house and killed Lisa, the little girl, thought he killed the boy, and killed Katja, the mother.
Has the pathologist confirmed that?
Yes, replies Joona.
I see.
So if the killers intention is to eliminate the entire family, Joona goes on, only the older daughter remains. Evelyn.