Chapter 15
Hanna turns her head and feels the vertebrae in her neck crack.
“Shouldn’t the CSIs be finished soon?” she says to Daniel, who is sitting opposite her. “Carina and her team arrived at about one, didn’t they?”
They have spent several hours in the conference room. After the conversation with Espen Lund, they spoke to the maintenance guy who found the body. In a shaky voice he explained how he had gone up to the suite in the morning and discovered Charlotte Wretlind’s remains drenched in blood.
They have begun to gather information about the deceased, and the police in Stockholm have been tasked with informing her relatives.
Apparently her business partner, Henry Sylvester, is already on his way to ?re.
They are now waiting for the staff lists that the manager promised to supply.
Hanna is particularly interested to see which employees had anything to do with the murdered woman during her stay.
On the table is a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of sandwiches that some kind soul brought in.
Hanna pours herself a cup and takes a sip, even though it’s too hot.
Then she reaches for a cheese sandwich and eats, without really being aware of the taste.
She would really like to move, the air in here is beginning to feel stuffy, and restlessness is tearing at her body.
She wants to get back to the Silver Suite, go through the crime scene.
She needs to see the scene and the victim with her own eyes.
Daniel holds up his phone, showing her the screen.
“Have you seen the headlines in the evening papers? They’ve already dubbed it ‘The Hotel Murder in ?re.’”
Hanna frowns. “I don’t understand how it’s gotten out so quick—we’ve only been here for a few hours.”
“It’s impossible to keep something like this a secret. You know how they operate.”
Daniel is right. A violent homicide in a well-known hotel in the middle of Easter week is unlikely to escape the attention of the press. Besides which, the media had already been invited to the venue because of the planned press conference.
“How do you feel about not getting any time off over Easter?” Hanna asks.
Daniel looks tormented. Hanna can tell that he is worried about Ida’s reaction.
His partner doesn’t like it when he has to work overtime, and they often quarrel about how much he is away from home, especially during major investigations.
It has taken its toll on their relationship, and on several occasions Daniel has asked Hanna for her advice.
“Ida won’t be happy,” he admits. “I’d promised to spend the whole of the long weekend with her and Alice.”
That’s life with a cop, Hanna thinks. It’s not always fun, but it can’t be helped. They make an important contribution to society, and Ida should be pleased that Daniel is doing something that makes a difference.
She would never say that out loud, of course.
“Shall we go and talk to Carina?” she suggests, finishing her sandwich.
The Silver Suite is at the other end of the building, toward the northwest. From the walkway, Hanna can see a number of people gathered around the reception desk. Despite the distance, the gravity of the situation is clear. It looks as if several guests are in the process of checking out.
Who wants to celebrate Easter at the scene of a homicide?
For the sake of the investigation, she would have preferred people to stick around so that they could be interviewed, but the police have no right to stop anyone from leaving.
However, those occupying the rooms closest to the Silver Suite have been asked to stay.
Hanna can only hope they understand how important this is.
“I guess there won’t be so many people in the hotel over the next few days,” she says.
The fire down in the foyer is still crackling away cheerfully, with brightly colored Easter eggs displayed on the mantelpiece. Somehow the coziness and festive atmosphere feel kind of creepy under the circumstances.
“You’re probably right,” Daniel agrees.
The door of the Silver Suite is wide open, and the uniformed officers have disappeared. Carina and some of her colleagues are busy in the living room. The chief technician is wearing a full-body suit, with a white hood covering her blond hair. They make eye contact, and she comes over to them.
“Do you want to come in? If so, take a deep breath.”
Without waiting for an answer, she hands them blue overshoes and disposable protective suits to put on before they are allowed in.
By this stage Hanna and Daniel have acquired several photographs of Charlotte Wretlind, but the scene that meets them has very little to do with the stylish businesswoman in the dark jacket, perfectly applied makeup, and well-cut, highlighted hair that they saw on their screens a little while ago.
As soon as Hanna sees the half-naked body and the blood-soaked sheets, she knows that the image will stay in her mind for a very long time.
Charlotte Wretlind looks like a rag doll. Her entire body is covered in knife wounds; someone had stabbed her over and over again, as if unable to stop themselves. Her face looks like a mask made of wax. The dead eyes stare into nothingness, her hair is messy, the ends dark with dried blood.
“Jesus,” Daniel says quietly by her side.
“It’s not a pretty sight,” Carina agrees.
Hanna instinctively clamps her lips tightly shut.
The smell in the room is overwhelming, a mixture of blood and other unpleasant odors that are excreted by dead bodies.
She is grateful that the mask covering the lower part of her face keeps out the worst of it, but she can still feel her stomach muscles contract as a wave of nausea wells up.
The violence of men against women, she thinks automatically, even though they have no evidence that the killer is male. But Hanna saw so many abused women during her time with the City Police in Stockholm, and she cannot avoid the immediate association.
It is also hard to imagine a woman losing control and stabbing another person to death like this. Such extreme violence is virtually unknown among female perpetrators.
Men are killed by men, and women are also killed by men.
The statistics tell a clear story.
In addition, the victim isn’t particularly short. Hanna guesses that she is perhaps five eight. She also looks pretty fit, judging by the muscles in her upper arms.
This also suggests a male attacker; it must have taken a certain amount of strength to overpower her.
“Any idea of the course of events?” Daniel asks Carina as he takes a step back, presumably to avoid the stench.
“Bearing in mind what she’s wearing and the location, I would assume that she had gone to bed before the attack. That should give us some kind of timeline. There’s also a phone and laptop in the living room, so you can see when they were last used.”
Hanna nods. It’s good to know that they won’t have to search for the victim’s phone and laptop.
“Cause of death?”
The question is superfluous, but Hanna asks it anyway.
“Loss of blood due to multiple stab wounds,” Carina replies in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
She points to the gaping wound in Charlotte’s throat. The skin has peeled back, revealing both muscles and sinews.
“That alone must have been enough to end her life. Obviously the forensic pathologist will examine her in detail, but I would assume that she died pretty quickly when her windpipe was severed with such brutality.”
In spite of the smell, Hanna leans forward to look at the victim’s palms. They are smooth and white, with no visible signs of damage.
“I can’t see any defensive injuries,” she says. “Could she have been asleep when she was attacked?”
“If she was lucky,” Carina replies. “Although the bedside lamp ended up on the floor, which might indicate some form of struggle.”
“Or maybe the perpetrator knocked it over,” Daniel says.
“Possibly. Or perhaps the victim woke up when the attacker came into the room and fumbled for the switch, but knocked the lamp onto the floor instead.”
Hanna notices that Charlotte is lying on her back, wearing only a pair of lacy panties. She looks for a nightdress or T-shirt that may have been torn off, but finds nothing.
The blood-soaked panties haven’t been pulled down.
“Is there anything to indicate a sexual assault?” she wonders.
Carina grimaces. “Nothing that’s visible to the naked eye—you’ll need to take that up with the pathologist.”
Daniel nods. “Have you found any trace of the perpetrator? Or is that too much to ask?”
“We’ve gathered material as usual. It’s too early to say where it comes from.”
“This really is dreadful,” Daniel says.
Hanna can hear his heavy breathing behind the mask, and knows they both share the same feelings of horror and frustration.
He looks away, shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”