Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(63)
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65
Hanna is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a marmalade sandwich for breakfast. She woke early, and it is still dark outside.
It would be fantastic if she could get a new post up here. Daniel probably doesn’t understand how happy it would make her; she hardly slept with excitement. The very fact that he came to the house means so much.
She is teetering between optimism and the fear that it will come to nothing, but if he wasn’t serious, then surely he wouldn’t have stopped by?
She takes a bite of her sandwich. The worrying thing is that Daniel’s boss might speak to Hanna’s boss, Manfred Lidwall, who hates her.
Lydia said he’d promised to give her a good reference, but can she trust him? If Manfred reneges on the agreement he made with Lydia, it’s all over. Now that Daniel has asked her to send him her references, she has to find someone who’s on her side.
She goes through her colleagues in the department.
Only one person tried to support her when the shit hit the fan: Astrid St?hl, an experienced inspector who is approaching retirement.
Astrid isn’t afraid of Lidwall. Would she be prepared to put herself on the line for Hanna?
Lie to Daniel?
Not lie, Hanna corrects herself. Just give him a different version of events.
She massages the back of her neck with one hand while thinking it over.
All Astrid needs to do is take Daniel’s call and say positive things about Hanna’s service in Stockholm. Explain that Hanna left because she was burned out, exhausted by the kind of crime she had worked with for so long.
Which isn’t too far from the truth.
She has been worn down by the endless stream of abused women and violent men, the children who suffer in destructive family relationships. Surely this contributed to how strongly she reacted to Josefin’s case. But the exact role that particular case played in her departure from the department need not be mentioned at this time.
Hanna checks her watch—eight thirty. Astrid should be at work by now.
Dare she make the call?
She doesn’t have any choice; she needs to protect herself.
She tries Astrid’s number and takes a deep breath when Astrid answers right away. Hanna gathers her courage and explains the situation.
“Of course you can tell him to contact me,” Astrid says.
“I’ll sing your praises—you have nothing to worry about.
You’re a good cop—never forget that.”
Hanna doesn’t know how to thank her. “This is so kind of you, Astrid.”
“It’s the least I can do. The way Manfred has treated you is an absolute disgrace. Tell Daniel he can call me anytime.”
Astrid’s unreserved backing restores Hanna’s faith in humanity. She ends the call with a warm feeling in her tummy. There are people who care about her, who value her competence. Even her dark thoughts about Christian have lightened a little.
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66
Daniel’s phone beeps in his back pocket just as he’s about to fetch his third coffee of the day at the police station. He’s just ended a conversation with Astrid St?hl, Hanna’s referee with the City Police in Stockholm. Hanna texted him Astrid’s contact details this morning, and her colleague had nothing but positive things to say about her.
He takes out his phone again; he has a text from Ylva Labba, the forensic pathologist.
Autopsy completed. Cal me.
He alerts the others and heads for the conference room.
Raffe and Anton join him at the oval table. Daniel enters the link code, and Ylva’s face appears on the screen. She is still wearing her protective clothing, as if she has just left the autopsy room. However, she has taken off her latex gloves and is sitting at a desk.
“That was quick,” she says.
“What can you tell us?”
“I worked until late last night; then I double-checked a few things this morning. I haven’t gotten around to writing my report yet, but I think I have a clear picture of what happened.”
Daniel is so eager that he is almost drumming his fingers.
“It’s as I suspected from the start: the girl froze to death. The body is largely intact, apart from a certain amount of damage due to frostbite, which is perfectly normal under the circumstances. My observations of the heart and lungs support this hypothesis. I have of course sent away samples for toxicology analysis, but I’m pretty sure they’ll come back negative.”
She pauses as if to allow for any questions, and picks up a pencil in her right hand.
“However, I have found a number of other interesting things, including minute particles of skin under a couple of fingernails, which hopefully will give us the perpetrator’s DNA. There are also marks on the girl’s throat, contusions indicating that pressure has been applied. Her upper arms are also bruised.”
The strength of the wind has increased again outside the window. The night was fairly calm, but now the slender birches are swaying around and bending so far they seem close to snapping. In ?re a storm can arrive and grow to full force in less than an hour.
“So what are your conclusions?” Daniel asks.
“I think the perpetrator held her tightly. If she struggled at first, that would explain the bruises on her arms. At some point he switched to a stranglehold, hence the marks on her throat. He was probably wearing gloves, because I can’t find any impressions left by fingernails on her skin.”