Page 26 of Hidden in Memories
Grip steps in. “A member of staff could have opened the door with a master key.”
“That’s definitely a possibility,” Daniel says. “We need to check which key cards were used for the victim’s suite yesterday, and we also need to map all the hotel employees.”
Daniel’s final words make Grip sigh in a way that says it all. Background checks take time. She begins to allocate tasks. Two younger investigators from Östersund will question individually everyone who was on duty the previous day. In addition, background checks must be carried out on every employee. Hanna is disappointed when that job goes to an older colleague, Nisse Sundbom, who has failed to impress her. He is one of the veterans in the unit, someone who rarely overexerts himself.
“Is there anything to indicate that this could happen again?” Grip asks. “Should we be afraid that the killer might intend to harm other guests? If so, we might need to consider closing the place down.”
Hanna meets her boss’s worried gaze. Once again the image of Charlotte’s body comes into her mind. The idea that they could be dealing with a crazed killer is terrifying.
“I’m inclined to think this was personal,” Daniel says. “It doesn’t feel like she was chosen by chance, even if we don’t have any evidence to the contrary.”
Hanna agrees. Her gut instinct tells her that Charlotte’s death wasn’t a horrific random act.
Then something else occurs to her.
What if the aim of the brutal murder was to create a smoke screen, a facade to send her and her colleagues in the wrong direction? What if someone out there wants them to start looking for a madman, when in fact it’s a contract killing?
In which case, what appears to be frenzied violence could be something else.
A plan to mislead the police.
19
Anton is in his parents’ kitchen, and puts down his knife and fork. Their house, where he grew up, is only ten minutes away from his apartment in Duved. Today is his father’s sixty-seventh birthday, which is why he has dragged himself away from work to join them for dinner.
He can’t help feeling guilty. After what happened today, work ought to come before his personal life.
“Time for coffee and cake,” his mother, Susanne, announces. She points toward the cake stand waiting on the counter. They have just eaten moose stew with rice. Anton’s father, Åke, likes hearty food; it’s a legacy of a career in the army and his role as lieutenant colonel, from which he stepped down two years ago.
“Sounds delicious,” Anton says, getting to his feet.
He helps to load the dishwasher, then gets out three mugs. As usual Åke remains seated at the table, straight-backed as befits a soldier, without lifting a finger. His mother always says that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks when Anton questions the fact that she works full time as a dental hygienist and still does all the cooking and cleaning. Now that his father has retired, Anton thinks he could make more of a contribution at home.
However, there is no point in bringing it up this evening and spoiling the atmosphere. After all, it is his father’s birthday, and Antonknows how much it means to his mother that they should get along. She hates it when there are arguments over family dinners, which unfortunately happens all too often.
It infuriates Anton when his father treats him like one of his subordinates, while Åke doesn’t think Anton shows sufficient respect.
They are very similar in appearance, both short and muscular with cropped hair, but they are totally different on the inside. Where Anton is meticulous and cautious, even reserved, his father is domineering and utterly sure of himself.
Anton waits his turn to speak, while his father interrupts without a second thought.
Susanne fetches the freshly brewed coffee and the cake. They chat about this and that, about Anton’s sister, Karro, and her two children—Wilda is almost eleven, Emil is eight. Wilda has a cold; that’s why they’re not here this evening. Anton misses them; he is very fond of his niece and nephew.
The new case means he won’t be able to hang out with them over Easter.
“Isn’t it time you thought about a family of your own?” his father says, adjusting the collar of his checked flannel shirt. “You’re not getting any younger. Think of the fun Karro has with her kids. The clock is ticking!”
Anton stiffens. This is precisely the kind of conversation he tries to avoid having with his parents. Even though he is thirty-four years old, he hasn’t come out to them. Nor to anyone else; as far as he knows, no one at work is aware that he prefers guys.
That’s the way he wants to keep it.
He has wrestled with the issue many times, and always reaches the same conclusion. It’s better to keep quiet and pretend that everything is fine than to tell the truth. He doesn’t want to be “the gay” at the station,the guy who makes his colleagues feel uncomfortable in the changing room or is responsible for an awkward atmosphere in the sauna.
HR can talk until they’re blue in the face about basic values and everyone’s right to equal treatment, but the reality is considerably tougher. Old attitudes still exist within the Swedish police. Not many officers are openly gay, whatever the leadership might say in its policies.
Especially not outside the big cities.
“You can’t spend all your time working, training, and playing the saxophone,” his father goes on. “You need to think about the future—do you really want to live alone for the rest of your life?”
