The Fire Witness

37

The red buildings of Birgittagården look idyllic in the light of day. Joona is standing by a birch tree, talking with Susanne Öst. Raindrops loosen from the branches and fall sparkling through the air.

“The police are still knocking on doors in Indal,” the prosecutor is saying. “Someone crashed into a traffic light and there’s a bunch of glass on the road. After that, nothing.”

“I’ll have to talk to the students again,” Joona says.

“I really hoped this lead on Dennis would give us something,” Susanne says.

Joona is picturing the scene he observed in the isolation room. His intuition is on alert. He tries to imagine the sequence of violence, but he only sees shadows moving between the furniture. The human beings are fuzzy, as if he were seeing them through frosted glass, shimmering and impossible to differentiate.

He takes a deep breath and his picture of the room where Miranda is lying with her hands over her face shifts into focus. He sees the velocity shown by the blood spatter and the heavy blows. He can follow each and every blow and see how the angle changes after the third one. The lamp starts swaying. Miranda’s body is covered in blood.

“But there was no blood on her body,” he mutters.

“What did you just say?” asks the prosecutor.

“There’s something I have to check,” Joona says, just as the door to the main building opens and a small man in a tight, protective jumpsuit comes out.

This is Holger Jalmert, a professor of criminology at Umeå University. He takes off his mask and wipes the sweat from his face.

“I’ll arrange for you to question the girls at the hotel in one hour from now,” Susanne says.

“Great, thanks,” Joona says and he starts across the yard.

The professor is by his van, taking off his jumpsuit and putting it in a garbage bag. He closes the bag tightly.

“The blanket is missing,” Joona says.

“Finally I get to meet the famous Joona Linna in person,” the professor says with a smile. He’s opening a new package of disposable clothing.

“Were you just in Miranda’s room?” asks Joona.

“Yes, I was. I’m done there now.”

“There’s no blanket in it.”

Holger stops what he’s doing and wrinkles his brow. “You’re right.”

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

“I’m going there now,” Holger says, but Joona is already on his way.

The professor looks after him and remembers hearing that Joona Linna is so stubborn he’ll stare at a crime scene until it opens before him like a book. He tucks the new jumpsuit under his arm and follows.

Before opening the door to Vicky’s room, they both pause to put on their protective clothes and their shoe covers and latex gloves.

“It looks like there’s something under the bed,” Joona says.

“One thing at a time,” says Holger. He puts on a mask.

Joona waits at the door while Holger photographs and measures the room with a laser. They will mark all their discoveries in a three-dimensional coordinating system.

A poster of Robert Pattinson, with his pale face and dark eyebrows, covers a painted Bible scene. On a shelf, there’s a bowl of security tags from H &M.

Joona follows Holger as he covers the floor bit by bit with black plastic film, presses it down with a rubber roller, lifts it carefully, photographs it, and packs it. Holger works methodically from the door to the bed and then over to the window. This time when he lifts the film from the floor, a weak print of a running shoe shows on the yellow gelatin layer.

“I have to get going soon,” Joona says.

“You want me to look underneath the bed first?”

Holger shakes his head at Joona’s impatience but then spreads protective plastic on the floor by the side of the bed. He gets on his knees, reaches in, and catches the corner of some fabric shoved up against the wall.

“It probably is a blanket,” Holger says, stretching his arm farther.

Holger carefully drags the heavy blanket onto the plastic sheet. It’s twisted and soaked in blood.

“I think Miranda had the blanket around her shoulders when she was killed,” Joona says in a low voice.

Holger folds the plastic sheet over the blanket and then pulls a large sack over the bundle. Joona glances at the clock. He can stay for just ten more minutes. Holger is doing a new test. He’s using damp cotton swabs on the smears of dried blood on the bed sheet, letting them dry a second before he packs them.

“If you find anything that indicates a place or a person, call me immediately,” Joona says.

“Sure, sure.”

Around the hammer beneath the pillow, Holger uses one hundred and twenty swabs, which he packs individually and marks. He tapes hairs and fibers onto clear plastic film and carefully folds white paper around tufts of hair. He has tubes for tissue scraps and skull fragments. These will be chilled to prevent bacteria growth.