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Authors: Sara Blædel
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“You need to close this case, and I will not tolerate you spending time on other cases before this one is out of the way. If you’ve got anything pressing on your plate, you’ll have to hand it off to someone else.” Suhr cast a quick glance at Willumsen. “And it has to come through me.”
Louise glanced at Heilmann as they stood up, but she couldn’t tell whether she was satisfied with the lieutenant’s direct rebuke of Willumsen.
“Let’s just meet in my office and touch base on this,” Heilmann said on her way out the door.
“Was your pal Camilla the one who called the lieutenant?” Michael Stig asked as they sat around the desk in Heilmann’s office.
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with her,” Louise answered defensively.
“Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to call Camilla Lind and find out what the mother is saying and why she went to a newspaper with the story,” Heilmann said.
Louise was about to suggest that someone else should make that call, but then it occurred to her that she didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary to her relationship with Camilla.
“Okay, I’ll give her a call, but I’ve got an appointment with Susanne at ten. She’s coming up here so we can try to nail down a description.”
“The perp’s online profile isn’t up any more,” Toft informed them. “I went into Susanne’s profile to check her inbox and the messages she had gotten from Bjergholdt, and as far as I could tell his profile has been deleted.”
“That was probably one of the first things he did after he wiped off her blood,” Stig interjected.
“Shouldn’t we also see if we can find any other women Bjergholdt was in contact with via the dating site?” Lars suggested.
“We should track any accounts that exchanged messages with ‘Mr. Noble,’” Toft said.
Louise raised her eyebrows, wondering if Bjergholdt’s profile name were somehow an allusion to his being from a blue-blooded family. Or whether it meant he was an attractive guy or something.
“Come to think of it, what was Susanne’s profile name?” Louise inquired, curious.
“‘Snow Wite,’ without the h .”
“Ah, the spelling with the h was probably already taken,” she remarked.
“The Web site’s administrator can trace any messages exchanged with ‘Mr. Noble.’ If they balk at that, we’ll sic CCU on them.”
This made Louise think of the guys from Ghostbusters showing up with those vacuum-like gadgets on their backs, exorcising ghosts. It’s actually kind of the same thing, she thought: we’re looking for something that can’t be seen.
“Have you told the photo lab you’re coming?” Heilmann asked, looking at Louise.
Louise nodded and asked Heilmann if having Susanne look at the photo archive would jeopardize her ability to pick the perp out of a lineup later on. In cases where the victim has a lot of doubt about the perpetrator’s description, they frequently ran into big problems with defense attorneys claiming that the reliability of the recognition is weakened when they present the victim with a series of pictures in advance. And it happens too often that when the police show pictures to a victim, it affects the victim’s memory.
“Do we have any choice?” Heilmann said, looking at her.
“No, we really don’t,” Louise answered, annoyed that witnesses were so bad at recognition. People were so unbelievably bad at remembering details accurately. Dark-haired men become medium-blond. A face that that one witness remembers as having pronounced features is remembered by another as having weak features.
“Or do we go to the press?” she suggested, interrupting the silence that had settled over the conference table. “We could describe the crime and look for other women who had something similar happen to them, and then hope they’ve got a clearer image of the suspect in their minds.”
“Are we looking for other women?” Lars asked, looking as if he had
“You need to close this case, and I will not tolerate you spending time on other cases before this one is out of the way. If you’ve got anything pressing on your plate, you’ll have to hand it off to someone else.” Suhr cast a quick glance at Willumsen. “And it has to come through me.”
Louise glanced at Heilmann as they stood up, but she couldn’t tell whether she was satisfied with the lieutenant’s direct rebuke of Willumsen.
“Let’s just meet in my office and touch base on this,” Heilmann said on her way out the door.
“Was your pal Camilla the one who called the lieutenant?” Michael Stig asked as they sat around the desk in Heilmann’s office.
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with her,” Louise answered defensively.
“Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to call Camilla Lind and find out what the mother is saying and why she went to a newspaper with the story,” Heilmann said.
Louise was about to suggest that someone else should make that call, but then it occurred to her that she didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary to her relationship with Camilla.
“Okay, I’ll give her a call, but I’ve got an appointment with Susanne at ten. She’s coming up here so we can try to nail down a description.”
“The perp’s online profile isn’t up any more,” Toft informed them. “I went into Susanne’s profile to check her inbox and the messages she had gotten from Bjergholdt, and as far as I could tell his profile has been deleted.”
“That was probably one of the first things he did after he wiped off her blood,” Stig interjected.
“Shouldn’t we also see if we can find any other women Bjergholdt was in contact with via the dating site?” Lars suggested.
“We should track any accounts that exchanged messages with ‘Mr. Noble,’” Toft said.
Louise raised her eyebrows, wondering if Bjergholdt’s profile name were somehow an allusion to his being from a blue-blooded family. Or whether it meant he was an attractive guy or something.
“Come to think of it, what was Susanne’s profile name?” Louise inquired, curious.
“‘Snow Wite,’ without the h .”
“Ah, the spelling with the h was probably already taken,” she remarked.
“The Web site’s administrator can trace any messages exchanged with ‘Mr. Noble.’ If they balk at that, we’ll sic CCU on them.”
This made Louise think of the guys from Ghostbusters showing up with those vacuum-like gadgets on their backs, exorcising ghosts. It’s actually kind of the same thing, she thought: we’re looking for something that can’t be seen.
“Have you told the photo lab you’re coming?” Heilmann asked, looking at Louise.
Louise nodded and asked Heilmann if having Susanne look at the photo archive would jeopardize her ability to pick the perp out of a lineup later on. In cases where the victim has a lot of doubt about the perpetrator’s description, they frequently ran into big problems with defense attorneys claiming that the reliability of the recognition is weakened when they present the victim with a series of pictures in advance. And it happens too often that when the police show pictures to a victim, it affects the victim’s memory.
“Do we have any choice?” Heilmann said, looking at her.
“No, we really don’t,” Louise answered, annoyed that witnesses were so bad at recognition. People were so unbelievably bad at remembering details accurately. Dark-haired men become medium-blond. A face that that one witness remembers as having pronounced features is remembered by another as having weak features.
“Or do we go to the press?” she suggested, interrupting the silence that had settled over the conference table. “We could describe the crime and look for other women who had something similar happen to them, and then hope they’ve got a clearer image of the suspect in their minds.”
“Are we looking for other women?” Lars asked, looking as if he had
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