Impact Epub

by Lourdes Daza-Gillman

  Kalle slowly sipped his hot drink.

  Sanna leaned back and clasped her hands behind her neck.

  “First let’s go through each of the cases thoroughly. After that we’ll contact the victims’ relatives and friends and find out what their interests were, who they met in their free time as well as what they were doing before they disappeared and if anyone noticed anything unusual.”

  Kalle nodded. “It shouldn’t be difficult for Konrad Berg’s family to remember stuff,” he said. “However, for the others it’ll be harder since the murders were committed so long ago.”

  “Hmm, I met Dexter Fleming’s partner a couple of times and she didn’t seem to know much about what he did in his free time,” said Javier. “I’m not convinced a return visit will help much… but who knows, maybe she’s remembered something new.”

  Sanna closed her eyes and massaged her forehead.

  “Hopefully Berg’s partner and relatives will be able to tell us something that connects all three victims. It’ll be harder to get new information from families and friends of the earlier victims, but it won’t hurt to try.” She gulped down her coffee, crumpled the plastic cup and threw it into the waste paper bin. “Oh yes, Kalle did you manage to arrange a meeting with Konrad Berg’s wife?”

  “No, she refuses. She says she wants nothing to do with her late husband.”

  “Incredible. Well, we’ll just have to see what a search of their house comes up with.”

  “It’s strange. She seems to absolutely detest him and was very aggressive when I prodded her for information.”

  Kalle pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “One thing I can’t get out of my head is the notion that these are revenge attacks.”

  Javier scratched his eyebrow and looked at Kalle intently.

  “We certainly can’t rule it out,” interjected Sanna. “It’s pretty clear that these men antagonized the killer in some way and this could be punishment for their actions.”

  She yawned and placed her hand in front of her mouth.

  “Did you party hard last night?” asked Javier with a wide grin.

  “Ha ha. No. I just had a drink with an old friend. We had a lot to catch up on, so we stayed in the pub until closing time.”

  “One drink?” teased Javier.

  “Okay, two,” replied Sanna smiling.

  Kalle and Javier laughed.

  “Okay, as I was saying, revenge can’t be ruled out. The Värmdö witness claims that sex orgies were being held at the cottage. Perhaps things got out of hand and one of the participants, male or female, has decided to get their own back.”

  “It’s most likely a man,” said Javier.

  “Yes, but in this case, despite the brutality, we can’t rule out a woman or someone with an accomplice,” added Sanna.

  “Hmm,” muttered Kalle.

  “I don’t think this is the work of a mentally unbalanced person. Each murder was methodically planned and executed. This is a sophisticated serial killer who knows exactly what they are doing. They plan their deeds in advance and follow each step with meticulous precision, taking extreme care not to leave any evidence behind.

  In my experience, serial killers have certain routines. After choosing a victim they monitor them for weeks, morning and evening, recording every move they make, who they meet. In addition, this particular killer is familiar with police routines; what we look for, which tests we do and how we identify different clues. They know how to ensure that not a single piece of evidence is left behind.

  Finally, the murderer chooses a day. They pack a bag with the equipment they are going to use – tape, a leather strap and disinfectant to wash the victim as well as a piece of paper with one or two letters – then they get to work. I’m starting to suspect that the murderer could be an ex-cop or even somebody still working at a division somewhere.”

  Kalle sat up in the armchair and stared at Sanna in amazement.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “By what?”

  “Are you suggesting that the murderer is familiar with the routines of a Forensic technician?”

  “Do you mean that the murderer could be one of us, a colleague?” asked Thorén who had joined the gathering a few minutes earlier and stood leaning against the wall near the door.

  “No, I’m just looking at the facts. The bathtub was scrubbed so clean there wasn’t a single hair in the plughole, a place we’d normally find evidence. We don’t even know how the murder was committed. The corpse was found lying on a neatly made bed and there were no obvious signs of violence. It’s almost as if the victim was enjoying what was happening – at least until he realised things were getting out of hand.”

  Sanna glanced at Thorén and continued:

  “So, we’ve ascertained that the suspect is a meticulous person who works to a specific plan that has no bearing on when the next murder will be committed. They’re in no particular hurry and will wait until a golden opportunity presents itself.”

  “I share your view. In all probability, the murderer has a list of potential victims and knocks them off in some sort of order,” interjected Javier.

  Kalle looked thoughtful. “Yes, but not necessarily systematically. That’s probably not important.”

  “Is it possible that we have two murderers working together but operating in different parts of the country?” asked Thorén, as she cast her eye slowly around the room.

  Sanna ran her hand across her face and looked intently at Thorén.

  Nobody said a word.

  Kalle sighed and shifted position in the armchair. Javier drummed his fingers against a file on his lap.

  “I had the same thought at first, but no, there’s only one murderer,” said Sanna eventually. “They would never risk concocting a plan with somebody else for the simple reason that sooner or later the other person would screw up. No, the murderer is definitely operating alone, one hundred per cent confident in their ability to cover their tracks. They’re enjoying making fools of us.

  Regarding the intervals between the murders – we don’t have a clue when the next one will occur, whether it’s a question of days, months or even years. We sit here powerless to prevent further attacks, since we don’t even know whether the next one will be in Stockholm, Gothenburg or anywhere else in the country!”

  “It might be part of the strategy, a way of throwing us off the scent by waiting until we close the investigation. The attacker bides their time in the hope that we will forget or assume they’ve stopped killing,” added Javier

  Samir Mohamed stomped into the room. “The search warrant for Konrad Berg’s place!” He placed a document onto Sanna’s desk.

  KIM RAN DOWN THE GRAVEL PATH desperate to escape the memories, which refused to let go.

  Dark, grey clouds spread across the sky and thunder rumbled overhead. Rain lashed against their face. As the storm raged and lightening illuminated the sky, they continued running, with no specific destination in mind.

  The memories were constantly shadowing them. Kim was determined to complete the project as soon as possible. But there were always obstacles. Due to a variety of circumstances, there were longer and longer delays between the murders. Despite their thirst for revenge, these delays were often unsettling. Deep down inside they longed for a return to normality.

  Following kidney surgery, Kim’s mother had suffered a difficult convalescent period. They had been obliged to take care of her until she recovered, resulting in a yearlong delay between the murders in Täby and Gothenburg.

  One hour later the storm subsided and Kim slowed down. They were alone in the forest, far from civilization.

  Exhausted, Kim stopped and bent forward to catch their breath. Suddenly, a scream arose from deep within and overwhelmed with emotion. Kim sat down under a tree and slapped themselves on the face until everything ached.

  “I’m going crazy, what am I going to do? What am I going to do?

  Each delay to the project involved mixed emotions. So
metimes they felt as if the feelings of hatred were diminishing and that the stability they longed for was almost within reach, but then something unexpected would trigger their desire for revenge again. Kim had no control over what provoked these feelings.

  That’s how it had been with the subject in Gothenburg. When a gang rape had caught the attention of the media, Kim’s anguish was reignited. They were bombarded with information about the case every day. It was a constant torture and the nightmares began again in earnest.

  After an unexpected encounter four years ago with one of their rapists the dormant volcano inside them stirred into life. Kim must find a way of finally extinguishing the flames. Meeting him again had shaken them to the core just when they had decided to move on and leave it all behind.

  Paralysing grief turned to anger and an insatiable desire for retribution. Since that day Kim had been obsessed with getting even. This obsession had blinded them.

  A murder of croaking crows flew past and Kim was jolted back to reality. Darkness was falling. Wet and miserable they decided to head home.

  It was impossible to obliterate the thoughts that swirled inside their head. They would remember every second, every act of penetration, until the men had all been annihilated!

  CHAPTER 12

  At home with Konrad Berg

  AT HALF PAST SEVEN ON Friday morning the detective inspectors stood outside Konrad Berg’s bungalow. On the spacious wooden veranda was a set of four dark brown rattan chairs and a round table. In the centre of the table stood a small flowerpot, which doubled as an ashtray. The lawn was in dire need of care and attention.

  Sanna rang the bell.

  A demure, elderly woman of nondescript appearance opened the door a fraction and looked at them suspiciously.

  “Good morning. We’re from the National Bureau of Investigation. We have a search warrant for this property. May we come in?”

  Sanna noted that the woman was wearing a neatly ironed white shirt, blue jeans and black loafers. Her grey hair was gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “A search warrant?” asked the woman anxiously. “Why? My daughter’s at work!”

  “That doesn’t matter, she doesn’t need to be present,” replied Sanna, striding into the house uninvited, Kalle and Javier in tow.

  The elderly woman hurried to the telephone and punched in a few numbers.

  “The police are here going through your things! They have a search warrant!” she exclaimed.

  “A search warrant! Let me speak to them!” shouted a woman at the other end.

  Sanna took the phone.

  “What the hell are you playing at? My husband’s dead, for God’s sake! Don’t you have any respect?”

  “We’ve been trying to reach you. If you won’t come to us, we’ll come to you.”

  “What’s he suspected of?”

  “He’s not suspected of anything – yet. But we have to find out why he was murdered,” replied Sanna, passing the phone back to the elderly woman and continuing into the living room.

  In contrast to the exterior, the interior of the house was bright and clean. Sanna wandered from room to room to get a sense of the layout. The entrance hall opened out into a large open-plan room where a white chaise longue and two matching armchairs were grouped in a circle around an oval sofa table. On the facing wall hung a flat screen TV and to the left of it stood a small bookshelf filled with books and files. There were two windows with white curtains facing the garden. Pots of white geraniums were arranged on the window sills.

  Sanna moved on to the dining room, which boasted traditional Swedish style décor with modest pine furniture. To the left of the dining room was a modern, average-sized kitchen and to the right were two bedrooms and a bathroom.

  Kalle had already discovered the attic. He pulled down the ladder and climbed up while Sanna opened a door leading to the cellar and made her way down the stairs.

  Javier, who had been listening intently to the telephone conversation, remained in the hallway. He had an uncanny ability to connect with people from all walks of life and would alter his intonation and vocabulary and change his body language in a display of camaraderie. He could switch personality from someone who was tough and unpleasant to someone who was warm and understanding. At this moment his aim was to win the woman’s confidence.

  “I promise we won’t make a mess,” he said, smiling warmly.

  The woman glanced at him and nodded grudgingly.

  “Don’t go into the child’s room, she has a fever and I only just managed to get her to sleep.”

  “It’s tough when kids are sick,” he said. “We will of course take that into consideration.”

  She gave him a weak smile.

  “Does your daughter’s ex-husband have a study?” asked Javier. “It would make our work here a lot easier if we knew where to look. Then we wouldn’t have to go through the whole house.”

  “I know that Karin threw away everything that reminded her of him. She didn’t want to keep any of it,” she said, looking down on the floor to avoid his eyes.

  “There must be something left,” insisted Javier.

  “Maybe…” Karin’s mother removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She pointed towards a narrow door. “I was never allowed to clean in there.”

  Javier turned the handle. It was locked.

  “The keys are up there,” she said pointing to the doorframe. “Don’t tell my daughter. She doesn’t know. I didn’t want to tell her.” She hurried into the kitchen.

  Inside there was a small desk on top of which stood a laptop and web cam. On the left side of the room was a shelf lined with an assortment of files and notebooks as well as a pile of shoeboxes. Javier smiled to himself. It took him about thirty minutes to go through everything. After he was finished he opened the computer and tried a few passwords. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated but he had no intention of giving up so easily.

  Kalle clambered down from the attic carrying a medium sized box.

  No such luck for Sanna, who emerged from the cellar empty handed.

  “Now I know where he went during his spare time – a shooting range,” beamed Kalle.

  Sanna nodded. “Nothing in the cellar, it’s a pigsty, full of scrap.”

  The two of them joined Javier in the small room.

  “There’s plenty of stuff here!” he said, smiling broadly and drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

  At that moment John Steward appeared, hovering in the doorway.

  “Good, you’re here,” said Sanna. “Tell us, Javier.”

  “Well, where do I start? It’s basically just what we expected. He was a frequent visitor to dating sites specializing in extra-marital sex. There’s a lot of email correspondence between him and different women. Let’s hope it’s helpful,” continued Javier

  Kalle smiled. “So there was no password?”

  “There was, but people have no idea how to protect information in their computer. After five attempts, open sesame!” he laughed.

  Kalle grinned and gave him the thumbs up.

  Sanna opened one of the shoeboxes. It contained a selection of porn films. She placed it on the floor outside the room and began to search through another box.

  “Here’s something of interest. It’s full of DVD’s.”

  Steward began taking photos.

  Javier clicked on a folder containing a photograph album and Sanna and Kalle approached the desk. “There are a bunch of different women here, but first let’s see where the emails lead us.”

  Sanna gave him an appreciative look. “Okay, we’ll take everything with us and seal off the room.”

  Kalle organized the boxes into a convenient pile. “Have you finished?” he said, turning to Steward.

  “Yup.”

  IT WAS THE WEEKEND and according to her normal Saturday routine, Sanna was headed to Uppsala on her motorbike. Fifteen minutes later, just as she was about to enter the mot
orway slip road, she realised she was going in the wrong direction. She doubled back and headed towards the cemetery instead. Subconsciously she still hadn’t accepted Malin’s death. There was an emptiness that was hard to fill. The longing affected Sanna in different ways. Some days she was in a great mood, other days she felt depressed and questioned whether there was any point in going on. She felt alone, abandoned. For the first few months she had even toyed with the idea of suicide. She wanted to believe there was another dimension similar to Nangijala in The Brother’s Lionheart by Astrid Lindgren, where she could be reunited with Malin and her mother.

  Time heals all wounds, she thought. So why can’t I find peace of mind?

  CHAPTER 13

  The Secret Room

  OVERNIGHT, KIM’S DREAM OF MOVING ON with their life was transformed into a nightmare that would resonate for years to come. They sat at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of water, consumed with doubt and haunted by the constant memories. Sometimes they regretted it all; sometimes they were convinced there was no other solution.

  Back in Stockholm after what had happened in Malmö, Kim stayed out of sight at home for several days, filled with remorse and refusing to be persuaded that they were acting in self-defence. There could never be any justification for taking another person’s life. Kim had never had murderous inclinations before. It was completely out of character. It was incredible how somebody’s fundamental principles and sense of equilibrium could be shattered by a single unexpected turn of events.

  During the long journey to the man’s cottage, Kim had repeated flashbacks to that night four years ago. The memory of their complete and utter helplessness became more and more vivid. Why was he driving further and further into the countryside? What was he planning to do?

  They would never put themselves into such a vulnerable position again.

  Kim returned to the living room. A bookcase stood along the left hand wall. They pressed it lightly and it slid to one side, revealing a hidden door. Kim unlocked it, walked inside and turned on the light.

  This was their secret room – a compact space previously used as a wardrobe, which, despite its limited size, now served as an office. Kim called it the investigation room.