Читать книгу The Fire Witness - Ларс Кеплер - Страница 44

The red buildings that make up the Birgitta Home look idyllic in daylight. Joona is standing beside a huge silver birch talking to prosecutor Susanne Öst. Raindrops sparkle in the air as they fall from the branches.

‘The police are still knocking on doors in Indal,’ the prosecutor says. ‘Someone drove into a traffic light, and there’s a load of broken glass on the ground, but apart from that … nothing.’

‘I need to talk to the girls again,’ Joona says, thinking about the violence that played out inside the misted windows of the main building.

‘I thought this business with Dennis would give us something,’ Susanne says.

Joona thinks about the isolation room, and is seized by an unsettling suspicion. He tries to picture the sequence of brutal events, but can only make out shadows between the furniture. People’s figures are transparent, like dusty glass, fluid, almost impossible to see.

He takes a deep breath, and suddenly the room where Miranda is lying with her hands over her face becomes perfectly clear. He can see the force behind the cascade of blood, the heavy blows. He can identify every impact, and sees how the angle changes after the third blow. The lamp starts to swing. Miranda’s body is covered with blood.

‘But there was no blood on her,’ he whispers.

‘What are you saying now?’ the prosecutor whispers.

‘I just need to check something,’ Joona says as the door to the main building opens and a small man in tight protective clothing comes out.

He’s Holger Jalmert, a professor of forensic science at Umeå University. He slowly removes his mask, to reveal a very sweaty face.

‘I’ll arrange an interview with the girls at the hotel in an hour,’ Susanne says.

‘Thanks,’ Joona says, walking across the yard.

The professor is standing beside his van as he removes the protective clothing, places it in a rubbish bag and seals it carefully.

‘The duvet’s missing,’ Joona says.

‘So I finally get to meet Joona Linna,’ the professor says, opening a fresh set of disposable overalls.

‘Have you been in Miranda’s room?’

‘Yes, I’m finished in there.’

‘There was no duvet.’

Holger stops with a frown.

‘No, you’re right about that.’

‘Vicky must have hidden Miranda’s duvet in the wardrobe or under the bed in her own room,’ Joona says.

‘I’m just about to start in there,’ but Joona is already on his way towards the building.

The professor watches him go, and can’t help thinking about what he’s heard about Joona Linna: that he’s so determined that he can stand and stare at a crime scene until it opens up like a book.

He puts the bag down, then hurries after the detective superintendent, clutching the overalls.

They put the protective outfits on, the shoe covers and latex gloves, before they open the door to Vicky’s bedroom.

‘There’s something under the bed,’ Joona confirms.

‘One thing at a time,’ Holger murmurs, and puts a mask on.

Joona waits in the doorway while the professor photographs and measures the room with a laser so that he can locate anything he finds using a three-dimensional set of coordinates.

On the wall above the ornate Bible passages there’s a poster of Robert Pattinson, with his pale face and dark eyeshadow, and there’s a large bowl full of white plastic security tags from H&M on a shelf.

Joona watches Holger as he systematically covers the floor with foil, presses it down with a roller, then lifts it gently before photographing and packing it away. He moves slowly from the door to the bed, then across towards the window. As he lifts the foil from the floor, the imprint of a trainer is clearly visible on the layer of yellow gelatine.

‘I need to go soon,’ Joona says.

‘But you’d like me to look under the bed first?’

Holger shakes his head at Joona’s impatience, but carefully spreads a layer of plastic on the floor beside the bed. He kneels down and reaches one hand beneath the bed and takes hold of the object under there.

‘It feels like a duvet,’ he says, concentrating.

He carefully pulls the heavy duvet out onto the plastic. It’s been twisted up, and is drenched in blood.

‘I think Miranda had it around her shoulders when she was murdered,’ Joona says in a low voice.

Harry folds the plastic over, then pulls a large sack over the wrapped duvet. Joona looks at his watch. He can stay another ten minutes. Holger goes on taking more samples. He uses moist cotton-buds on the dried blood, then lets them dry out before packing them.

‘If you find anything that relates to either a person or a location, you must call me at once,’ Joona says.

‘Understood.’

For the hammer under the pillow the professor uses one hundred and twenty cotton-buds, which he wraps and labels individually. He collects strands of hair and textile fibres on adhesive plastic, wraps loose hairs in paper, and puts tissue samples and fragments of bone in test tubes so they can be chilled to prevent the growth of bacteria.