‘We don’t have the resources,’ Jounas Smeed says. ‘Besides, the perpetrator isn’t likely to volunteer.’

‘It might placate the media a little, though,’ Karl Björken says. ‘But let’s hold off on that. For now, we’re going to have make do with swabbing the people we bring in for questioning. And there will be plenty of those; I want us to bring in every last prick we can possibly pin something on.’

Dineke Vegen clears her throat and Björken turns to the prosecutor.

‘I’m not talking about shoplifting and parking violations,’ he clarifies.

‘OK, I trust you to know where the line is.’

‘So, right now, our best hope is that Anita Kollbar might tell us something about her attacker. I’ve already let Johan Stolt know we might be releasing a press statement later today with additional information and a repeated urging for any member of the public who knows something to come forward. Other than that, we keep going as before, keep knocking on doors in the relevant neighbourhoods. Someone must have seen or heard something. Or at least harbour vague suspicions.’

After handing out assignments to each member of the investigative team, Björken ends the meeting and signals for Karen to stay behind while the others file out.

‘I know,’ she says as soon as the door closes behind them.

‘I can’t have people bickering in the meetings. Johannisen’s an idiot, but he’s a good detective. And he’s retiring after the summer.’

‘I’ve heard that before,’ Karen mutters. ‘But you’re right, I wouldn’t accept squabbling if it were my investigation.’

‘Good, then let’s head over to Thysted right now.’

Chapter 13

13

The hospital smell transports her back in time three months. The same mix of disinfectant, linoleum floors, boiled cabbage, worry, and fear that seems to permeate every hospital. The same smell as the hospital in Ravenby where she spent several anxious days after a case nearly cost her life. The memory triggers a second-long burst of the claustrophobic fear she’d felt then.

Then, she’s back in the hallway at Thysted Hospital where she and Karl Björken are following the doctor to Anita Kollbar’s room.

‘She’s still pretty groggy from the painkillers and sedatives, but perfectly fit to talk,’ Vegard Utvik says and stops in front of a door.

‘And she knows there are two of us? And she doesn’t mind talking to a man?’

‘Like I said, I prepared her, but if she shows any sign of wanting to end the conversation, you will leave. And even if she doesn’t, you won’t stay longer than thirty minutes, tops.’

The doctor speaks with the kind of authority that leaves no room for protest or negotiation. Then he pushes the door open and enters the room first.

‘Hi, Anita. If you still feel up to talking to the police for a bit, they’re here now.’