Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(72)
Viktor looks panic stricken.
“It’s not true!” he stammers. “I didn’t kill her!”
Daniel keeps going. “Do you know what we’ve found out from your friends who were at the party?” He folds his arms, mentally ticks off the statements they’ve gathered over the past few days. “There are witnesses who saw you quarreling with Amanda late in the evening—just as she was about to leave. You tried to stop her by grabbing her arm; she pushed you to the floor. You were yelling and swearing at her as she ran out of the door. After that, no one can confirm where you were. You mentioned your friend Wille, but he’d passed out—he doesn’t know whether you were there or not.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“No one backs up your story. No one.”
Viktor’s face has lost all its color. “I didn’t do anything!”
Daniel registers the sound of a car pulling into the drive.
He changes his tone. So far he’s been playing bad cop, going in as hard as he can. Now he tries out a softer approach. He wants Viktor to feel secure, so secure that he can summon up the courage to confess.
“Admit that you got angry when Amanda wouldn’t do as you said. When she left the party even though you wanted her to stay.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“We know it was you who murdered Amanda.” Daniel moves around the table, stands right next to Viktor. “You have no alibi, and you’ve already been convicted of assaulting your ex-girlfriend.” Through the window he sees a shadow walking toward the front door. “Tell me what happened that night,” he says encouragingly. “I promise it’ll make you feel so much better.”
“It wasn’t me,” Viktor whispers. “I didn’t do it.”
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74
Daniel can’t shake off the feeling of failure when he arrives back at the police station. It is almost seven o’clock, the corridors are in darkness, and everyone else has gone home. He sits down at his desk and switches on the lamp.
He was so close to getting a confession out of Viktor, and yet he didn’t manage to break him. Next time he will bring him in, conduct a formal interview—but the element of surprise will be lost.
The problem is insufficient evidence. Daniel is well aware that there are holes in his argument. The family’s snowmobile, Viktor’s criminal record, his unsatisfactory alibi —all circumstantial.
There might not be enough to have Viktor remanded in custody. He can almost hear Tobias Ahlqvist’s voice demanding solid proof, particularly when the boy is so young. It’s always difficult when it comes to depriving someone under twenty of their freedom.
His chair creaks as he leans back. He interlaces his fingers behind his neck and tries to think.
The first rule in a criminal investigation is not to get hooked into a particular hypothesis or a suspect too early.
All doors must be left open.
Easier said than done when so much points to one person—a young man who was also close to the victim.
If Viktor isn’t the guilty party, then who is?
The team is busy checking out the people who own property in Ull?dalen, all the registered snowmobiles in the area, the perpetrator’s DNA from the skin particles under Amanda’s fingernails, any possible traces on her clothing.
If they’re lucky, the forensic evidence will contradict Viktor’s statement so convincingly that he will break down and confess.
They’re not there yet—not by a long shot.
His stomach rumbles. He ought to go home, but he needs to get his head straight first.
In the staff room he finds a speckled banana in a bowl and a half-empty carton of milk in the refrigerator—just enough for a glass.
Leaning against the counter, he eats the fruit and gulps the milk.
Viktor has a temper—another factor that speaks to his guilt. This is little more than Daniel’s opinion, but he should know something about volatility given his own problems sometimes keeping a cool head.
Daniel has never really been able to control his temperament. When his heart is racing and the rage builds up, he can’t hold back. It’s as if the anger has to find an outlet, whatever the cost. The furious words come pouring out with one purpose and one purpose only—to hurt others.
Those he loves the most are often in the firing line, as his mother discovered on far too many occasions.
He is still deeply ashamed of his outburst the night before his school-leaving exam. It had something to do with his suit—he doesn’t even remember what the problem was, but it ended with him ripping his student cap to shreds in front of a terrified Francesca. The following day he was the only one who showed up bare headed, after she’d sat up half the night trying in vain to mend it.
Maybe that’s why he suspects Viktor. An ordinary kid can lose it to the point where he does the unthinkable.
At those moments, he is explosive and unpredictable.
Daniel has no difficulty in seeing Viktor as the perpetrator. He recognizes all the signs. It didn’t take him long to provoke the boy into an angry outburst; with too much booze in his system, who knows what Viktor is capable of.
If he fought with Amanda at the party, anything could have happened.
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75
Lena is lying in bed, curled up under the pink blanket. It is dark and the curtains are closed.