Chapter 78
It is five o’clock by the time Hanna gets back to the station.
She is sitting at her desk with a pile of candy, and has just gotten hold of Paul Lehto’s wife on the phone to double-check his alibi when he was “sick.” The wife confirmed the information her husband had given—he didn’t feel well after the weekend and had to stay home for a few days.
She also repeated what she said earlier: that he was at home on both Sunday and Wednesday night at the times when the two women were attacked.
Hanna made notes and thanked her before ending the call.
The problem is that she doesn’t know how much she can rely on Lehto’s alibi. Many women would lie to protect their partner, especially in a case like this.
She has already gone through his background and checked all the databases to see if he has a record. Apart from the drunk-driving fine, there is nothing of note, nothing to suggest that he could be a killer.
She suddenly has an idea. She could try the K-archive in ?stersund, where all crime investigations and police reports in the county are stored, everything that has ever come in to the police about an individual.
The law decrees that information must be deleted from the databases after a fixed period—but it remains in the K-archive forever.
It is late on Good Friday, so it’s unlikely that anyone will be there, but it’s worth a shot.
She keys in the number and crosses her fingers. She is in luck—an administrator by the name of Cilla is still working. Hanna quickly gives her Paul Lehto’s ID number and asks Cilla to see if there is anything in the archive.
Ten minutes later the phone rings.
“Hi,” Cilla says. “I have actually found something that probably isn’t in the system any longer.”
She gives Hanna a quick summary and sends the information over. When the email arrives, Hanna has to read it twice. Nisse should have tracked this down days ago, but of course he couldn’t be bothered. This is exactly what she was afraid of.
She prints out the document and goes along to Daniel’s office. He is totally absorbed in something on his screen and doesn’t even notice that she is standing in the doorway until she knocks on the frame.
“Have you seen this?” She hands over the sheet of paper and he quickly glances through it.
“Interesting.”
Hanna sits down in the visitor’s chair and stretches her legs in front of her.
“You could say that. So now we know that Paul Lehto is in the habit of coming into conflict with women.”
She takes back the sheet of paper. Sixteen years ago, Paul Lehto harassed his ex-wife to such an extent that he became the subject of a so-called extended no-contact order.
In other words, he was banned from visiting or even being in the vicinity of her home, workplace, or a series of other locations where she spent time.
Such an order is not granted without good reason.
Lehto must have behaved very badly toward his ex.
Needless to say, he has failed to mention this to the police. He probably hasn’t told his employer either. It’s not exactly something you would want to include on your résumé.
“Did he have to wear an electronic tag?” Daniel asks.
Hanna skims the text. If a previous no-contact order has been breached, then the law allows monitoring in the form of an ankle tag.
Admittedly this doesn’t stop the perpetrator from sending hundreds of messages or otherwise hassling the victim through social media, which often happens.
However, it does constitute a physical deterrent from hanging around near the person who needs protection.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Hanna thinks she knows why. The law on no contact has been tightened on several occasions. Sixteen years ago, it was relatively toothless. Electronic tags were much less common back then.
She glances toward the conference room across the corridor, where the pictures of the two murder victims are up on the wall.
A man who can harass his ex-wife to such an extent could easily turn on other women.
This new information indicates misogyny, a history of treating women badly.
So what is the situation with his current wife? Has he abused her, physically or mentally?
Statistics show that violent behavior is repeated; it’s not that easy to break the pattern. The value of Lehto’s alibi has been undermined. It is not impossible that his current wife didn’t dare to say anything other than what he had told her to say.
Daniel spins around on his chair, which squeaks as usual. “No reports of abuse filed against Lehto?”
“Nothing like that, just the no-contact order.”
This doesn’t necessarily mean that Lehto didn’t resort to violence during his first marriage. It could well be that his ex didn’t have the courage to report him.
Hanna tries to avoid jumping to conclusions about violent men, but she has seen so many similar cases.
She knows far too many exhausted women who have given up the battle to have their abuser brought to justice.
Simply securing a no-contact order requires a great deal of strength from a woman in a destructive relationship.
Going on to take part in a court case, with all that involves in terms of witness statements, cross-examination, and a defense attorney who questions every detail can be a superhuman task, even with the support of a complainant’s counsel.
She knows this herself from bitter experience.
“So what do we do with this? Should we confront him?”
Daniel gives himself time to think. Hanna is very familiar with his expression—slightly turned in on himself, absentmindedly scratching one thumb.
“We wait,” he says eventually. “We still haven’t managed to establish a clear link between him and Charlotte Wretlind—something that could explain exactly what happened on Sunday.
We also need evidence of a connection between Lehto and Hedin if we’re going with the theory on some kind of collaboration. ”
“Anton and Raffe are working on that,” Hanna replies, just as she is overwhelmed by a yawn. It has been yet another long day. She is starting to feel tired, even though she has no intention of giving up just yet.
Daniel glances up at the clock on the wall. “I have to go. I promised Ida I’d be home early today. She won’t be happy if I’m late for dinner.”
He pulls on his jacket. “You ought to go home too. We haven’t stopped all day.”
“I’m fine.”
He gives her an apologetic smile.
“It’s not easy for Ida—she has no idea what it’s like to be a police officer. How a case kind of swallows you up.”
Hanna focuses on her papers. “It’s fine,” she says without looking at him. “It is Good Friday after all.”
Then she tries to muster up an understanding smile, even though she hates the fact that he is leaving, going home because of Ida and Alice. She hates it when he blames his family and complains to her.
It would be better if he simply said it was time to finish for the day. She doesn’t want to be treated like a sympathetic colleague.
It makes her feel so lonely.
A failed singleton who has nothing better to do than work over a holiday.