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“He’s definitely not the owner of the house,” said Kalle, who by now had also joined his colleagues.

  Sanna turned abruptly to face him.

  “According to one of the neighbours the owner is only around one metre seventy six tall.”

  “This man’s at least one metre eighty-five… Do we know the owner’s name?”

  “No. The man I spoke to said he pretty much keeps to himself and hardly talks to anyone in the neighbourhood,” continued Kalle.

  The sound of heavy footsteps approached. Arne Falk appeared in the doorway and made a quick mental note of his surroundings.

  “Hmm, the smell of evil,” he said with a deadpan expression as he walked over to the body. “Now I understand what you meant when you described the Gothenburg murder.”

  Sanna looked at him in astonishment. She was impressed at his powers of recall.

  “Yes, the similarities are striking.”

  Momentarily distracted by the click of the photographer’s camera, Sanna left Falk to his own devices as she continued to inspect the rest of the room. This time she intended to let him work in peace and carry out his analysis undisturbed.

  The rest of the team scattered to examine the crime scene.

  Sanna scrutinized every detail of the room as if she was attending an art exhibition. The victim’s clothes were neatly folded on a chair that stood against the wall. The clothes were torn, yet they had been carefully placed on the chair. Why not leave them on the floor instead? Why go to so much trouble to arrange everything so precisely. It was the same pattern as before and she couldn’t avoid comparing the two murders. In Gothenburg, the victim’s clothes had been folded in a similar fashion. Since the victim’s hands and feet were bound, the only way the murderer could have removed his clothes was by ripping them apart.

  Sanna continued into the bathroom. She had expected to find a simple shower cabinet, which would have been typical for this type of summer cottage. This particular property, however, was equipped with a bathtub that was spotlessly clean just like everything else inside the house. She bent down and inspected the plughole. Not a single strand of hair. She scanned the room. An unused towel hung on a hook near the washbasin. The hook near the bath was empty. She strode back to the bedroom, stopped in the centre of the room and flashed a glance around the entire room before bending down to look under the bed. Nothing.

  “Missing: bath towel probably part of a matching grey set.”

  Steward, the photographer, was following Sanna’s movements closely and making a point of systematically photographing each area after she had finished. From experience, he knew that Sanna would always ask for photos of the one area he had missed.

  As he knelt down to look under the bed the waistband of his trousers shifted, exposing the crack of his bottom. John Steward was a youthful thirty-year old man with a well-groomed beard, short brown hair and sparkling light green eyes. He liked to dress in modern loose-fitting clothes that reflected his easy-going personality.

  Sanna’s head was bombarded with images of the crime scene. Her thoughts drifted to how events leading up to the murder must have unfolded. The victim was approximately one metre eighty-five centimetres tall and his build was in proportion to his height. The murderer would have had to use brute force to pin him down. She imagined the victim’s desperation as he fought in vain before finally being overpowered.

  She shook her head. That wasn’t how it happened.

  Next, she tried to work out the murderer’s body type. Anyone capable of overcoming the victim would have to be at least as strong, if not stronger than him.

  She made her way slowly to the kitchen where Thorén was busy rummaging through the cupboards.

  “Anything interesting?” asked Sanna, glancing around the room. There were two light grey wall cabinets and two matching base cabinets, one fitted with a sink. Facing the window was a wood oven. The floor was covered with dirty grey linoleum flecked with large white stains.

  “Not really,” said Thorén tentatively. “As far as I can tell the murderer didn’t use anything from in here. However, for some reason he must have cleaned the kitchen counter because it reeks of chlorine. He also emptied the rubbish.”

  “Perhaps the technicians removed it,” suggested Sanna.

  “No, I had a short chat with one of them and they didn’t remove anything from the kitchen, only from the bedroom. He also told me they would probably be coming back.” Thorén opened a cupboard. “Check this out. Everything’s arranged with military precision.”

  “Make sure that John gets photos,” instructed Sanna, before leaving the room to continue inspecting the rest of the house. She strolled through the living room and hovered in the bedroom doorway. Kalle was focused on examining the contents of a cupboard while Javier and Allan were busy rummaging through a bedside table drawer. Arne Falk had already left the crime scene.

  “Hi Sanna, welcome back!” smiled Hans Söderman of the National Forensic Centre.

  “Thanks,” answered Sanna cheerfully, “Any evidence?”

  “Not yet…” he replied. “Our best bet is the bed. Interesting to find a crime scene that’s been so scrupulously decontaminated. I’m not sure the tests will provide us with anything useful.”

  She stared at him and was about to say something but changed her mind.

  The forensic technician nodded goodbye and left the crime scene.

  Javier was now inspecting the other bedside table. Allan Jonsson stood next to him looking pale and nauseous.

  “No blood here,” he remarked, holding up a dildo.

  “He’s into sex games as well,” said Kalle, holding up a pair of handcuffs. “Beats me why the killer didn’t use these…”

  “Probably because they were no use to him. If we’re dealing with the same attacker, handcuffs don’t fit the pattern,” grimaced Javier.

  Sanna entered the room.

  “This is starting to look awfully familiar.”

  Kalle, turned to Sanna. He was carrying an assortment of sex toys.

  “Yup. Strange that none of these were used,” he said.

  “Wait!” said John Steward as he scurried in to the room.

  Kalle stepped back and pointed to the bedside table.

  The photographer took a seemingly endless series of photographs.

  Kalle sighed with impatience. “Are you done?”

  ”Yup,” said Steward and he left the room to continue photographing the rest of the house.

  Kalle pressed the record button on his tablet computer:

  “Evidence Collection Protocol from Fladenvägen one hundred and seventy six, Ingarö. Bedroom: Bedside table on left side of bed: upper drawer: five dildos of different sizes and colours, three pairs of handcuffs and two rolls of black tape. Bedside table on right side of bed: large blue dildo, two packs of unused batteries, two bottles of lubricant and four strong ropes approx. one metre each.”

  He placed the items carefully into a large black plastic bag.

  Sanna, who had been watching his actions keenly, glanced inside at the contents.

  “A bag full of objects for one specific purpose only.”

  “Yup, kinky sex games,” said Javier, grinning sarcastically.

  “We have to find out what the hell is going on here. Kalle, can you contact the owner of the house as soon as we’re back at the station?”

  Kalle nodded and made a note on his tablet computer.

  Sanna walked over to a window overlooking the front garden. A cluster of shell-shocked but inquisitive spectators lingered on the other side of the police barrier. She watched them for a few seconds then turned to Steward.

  “John, I want photos of everyone out there.”

  “Already done. I’m onto it. I’m also checking regularly to see if anyone new turns up,” he assured her.

  Sanna gave him a thumbs up sign.

  The creaking from a half-open wardrobe door distracted her. She walked over and opened it. Inside, there was a stack of duvet covers in their pla
stic packaging as well as two new pillows and four packs of white sheets. Sanna’s curiosity was piqued and she began to pull out the items one by one and lay them on the floor. She leaned inside the empty wardrobe and knocked gently on the back panel then pressed lightly with her fingers from edge to edge until it loosened. Tucked into the wall behind the wardrobe was a recessed bookshelf stuffed with various items, including various types of black plastic garments designed for use in ritual sex games, as well as pornography books and CD’s and DVD’s labelled according to date. In addition, there were three dark brown leather whips hanging from a hook.

  “Well, well, will you look at that!” exclaimed Steward, who by now had returned to the bedroom and was eagerly snapping away.

  The team looked on in fascination.

  “Why is this stuff hidden away?” asked Kalle. “This isn’t a random collection. Is there anything missing?”

  Sanna looked at him with a wry smile.

  “It’ll be interesting to see what’s on the DVD’s. We’ll take everything with us. Thorén, can you take care of that? Ask Samir Mohamed to register them and write an evidence collection protocol.

  “How did you know there was a secret cubby hole?”

  “I didn’t, but since there are so many similarities with the Gothenburg case it occurred to me that I might find something similar.”

  “And you were right,” smiled Thorén. “By the way, is Mohamed back on the team?”

  “Yup”

  As soon as Samir Mohamed heard that Sanna was back at work he had put in a request to continue on her team. It was an easy decision. She was very satisfied with Mohamed’s earlier efforts. He was shy and reserved but always did the job well regardless of the type of assignment.

  Mohamed’s parents ran a grocery store, but to his father’s disappointment he had never considered taking over the family business. He had other plans. After graduating from Stockholm University with a degree in sociology he secretly applied to the Police Academy, passing all his tests with flying colours and finally fulfilling his dream to be a police officer. When Sanna heard about Mohamed’s promotion to Detective Sergeant she was so impressed by his resumé that she contacted Blom immediately and asked to have him reassigned to her team full time. Fortunately, Blom had no objections.

  “If, as seems likely, the victim isn’t the owner of the property, who is he? For the moment, the only conclusion we can draw is that the cottage appears to have been used for sex games of some kind. Apparently, according to witnesses, the owner is hardly ever home, so the question is who uses this stuff? The crime scene in Gothenburg certainly wasn’t as well equipped as this one.”

  CHAPTER 4

  SKL – Arne Falk

  THE CORPSE WAS so badly decomposed that Arne Falk, the forensic pathologist, was unable to determine exactly when the murder was committed. According to a preliminary estimate, the death had occurred one month ago, between the 28th and 30th of July. In all likelihood, the warm and humid weather had accelerated the rate of decomposition.

  Sanna stood next to Falk as he silently examined the victim. A sweet, acrid odour pervaded the cold, white-tiled autopsy room. The air of melancholy was exaggerated by fluorescent strip lighting. She could never get used to seeing human beings murdered with such ruthless brutality. It was even worse when the identity of the victim was unknown.

  On the other steel slabs lay pale, hollowed bodies with sawn open chests or abdomens and discarded surgical instruments, including scalpels, bone saws, tweezers and scissors.

  The murder victim, more brightly illuminated than the other corpses, was a particularly macabre sight. His half open mouth, still partially gagged, was frozen in a convulsive scream and although the wounds on his wrists were concealed in plastic bags, the crusted ulcers on his ankles provided visible evidence of his struggle to free himself.

  Sanna observed the pathologist. Falk had recently turned fifty-five and was beginning to show his age. His short hair, previously blond with just a few speckles of grey, was now completely white. However, although he had become noticeably thinner his face was still quite youthful, free from wrinkles or bags under his gentle blue eyes.

  Arne Falk and Sanna Johansson had worked together for more than ten years and during this time they had become friends. What some might interpret as mutual indifference was actually a sign of a well-established relationship. There was such a depth of understanding between them that words were unnecessary and in most instances would fail to elucidate the situation. Unless Sanna had a concrete question to put to him, a simple exchange of glances would suffice.

  “Do you think we’re dealing with the same attacker?”

  “What?” asked Falk, as he carefully removed the man’s spleen.

  “As the Gothenburg victim?”

  “Yes, I heard you,” replied Falk, looking up at her. “You’ll have to wait until I’ve finished the autopsy.” He stretched his upper body and continued to work.

  Sanna tried to disguise her impatience. “Anything in the penis?”

  “I’ll check in a moment.” Falk placed the spleen onto a metal tray. He removed his latex gloves and washed and dried his hands thoroughly, then sprinkled a little powder onto his palm, rubbed his hands together to spread it evenly and slipped on a new pair of gloves.

  “Where were we?” he said. “Oh yes, the penis… ”

  Sanna smiled contentedly as Falk extracted a small piece of paper with a pair of tweezers and placed it onto a plate. The two of them peered curiously down at the item.

  “What does it say?” asked Sanna.

  Falk fetched a small bottle and squeezed a few drops of liquid onto the piece of paper.

  Sanna stared intently at what he was doing, moving closer to get a better look.

  “The letter ‘s’!” she exclaimed. “Why an ‘s’? What’s he trying to tell us?”

  “Not just an ‘s’,” added Falk turning the piece of paper over.

  “Hmm, it’s very blurred…”

  He lifted the paper up to the light.

  “It looks like an ‘t’… or maybe an ‘l’”.

  She frowned.

  “Why two letters this time?”

  Falk turned his attention back to the corpse and continued to work.

  “Asphyxia,” he said.

  “What?” asked Sanna, who was preoccupied trying to remember details about the Gothenburg murder. Had they missed something? Had the pathologist remembered to inspect both sides of the piece of paper inserted into the victim’s penis? She took out a notebook and wrote a reminder.

  “Death by suffocation,” explained Falk. “There are small particles of fibre in the windpipe and on the face. The attacker probably used a pillow to suffocate him.”

  “So it was a quick death?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it quick exactly. Before his executioner decided to silence him permanently, he was tortured.”

  Arne Falk removed his gloves but continued to stare at the body. “He’s gone through quite an ordeal. There are burns on his throat and chest and he was obviously tied up against his will and fought to escape. I think we’re dealing with a psychopath, a person who gets their kicks out of seeing others suffer. The blisters on his sexual organs are caused by some sort of corrosive liquid. It must have been excruciatingly painful.” Falk puckered his lips in disgust. “His burns are caused by a Taser gun and, as you know, they carry a 200,000 volt charge.”

  “Do we know if he was drugged?”

  “Difficult to say. We’ll take all the necessary tests, but it’ll be hard to get reliable results.”

  Sanna looked at him questioningly.

  “There’s a lot of inner bleeding and tissue irritation in the outer anal sphincter,” added Falk. “This could indicate rape. However, there’s no trace of sperm. On the other hand, he could have been penetrated by a dildo or similar hard object.”

  “Is there anything to suggest he was engaged in some kind of sex game?”

  Falk removed his gl
asses.

  “Again, it’s hard to confirm anything with the corpse in this state of decomposition.”

  A long silence ensued as Sanna reflected upon Falk’s words.

  Sanna turned to leave. “See you later!” she said, realising that Falk had nothing more to add. He was not a person prone to conjecture. He took his profession extremely seriously and focused strictly on the technical evidence and nothing else.

  While waiting for the elevator she dug out her mobile phone from her pocket and punched in Kalle’s number.

  “Do Forensics have the pillows?” she asked without bothering to say hello.

  “Yes,” answered Kalle. “They took everything except the mattress. I guess they figured there was no point since any important evidence material would be on the bedspread.”

  “Check out whether they’ve found anything. It looks like the killer used one of the pillows to suffocate him. If we’re lucky, their DNA will be all over it.”

  “Let’s hope so, but the big question is whether we’re looking for one or two killers? It would take an extremely strong person to overpower a man that size. Could he have had an accomplice?”

  “At this stage, we have to entertain every possible scenario and keep our eyes and ears open,” added Sanna. After ending the call, she glanced at the notes in her tablet computer and then dialled Javier’s number.

  .

  CHAPTER 5

  A radical change

  THE JOGGER PANTED HEAVILY. They had completed the day’s circuit and their T-shirt was damp with perspiration and stuck uncomfortably to their skin.

  In the early morning hours the area around SoFo was deserted. The jogger paused outside an apartment building, instinctively glancing around to make sure that nobody was following them. They punched in the door code and strode up the stone staircase to the first floor and unlocked the light grey double doors and security gate to the apartment. Once inside, they secured the doors behind them and walked directly to the bathroom. There was no time for their usual stretching session. They tore off their clothes and tossed them into a heap on the floor then climbed into the shower and let the cold water cascade over their body.