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Authors: Mari Jungstedt
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other?’
‘I have no idea. That’s something we’ll find out today. Everyone is on their way over here to be interviewed.’
‘Were there any other models?’ asked Wittberg. ‘If so, I’d be happy to interview them.’
‘You’re hopeless,’ said Jacobsson, but she couldn’t help smiling.
Knutas was starting to get a headache, and his stomach was growling. He rubbed his forehead and then glanced at his watch. Seven thirty. He’d been up since one thirty but hadn’t yet had anything to eat.
Sohlman stood up. ‘If there’s nothing else, I need to go. I’ve got a lot of work to do out there.’
‘Okay.’ Knutas looked intently at everyone seated around the table. ‘Our colleagues have been searching all night for the perpetrator, and they’ve set up roadblocks at several places in the area. More officers are also on their way out to Furillen right now. The dog unit will continue to search. Who knows? Maybe the assailant is still there, hiding out someplace. As I mentioned, we’ll do a door-to-door in the vicinity this morning. It’s important for us to talk to as many people out there as possible. Those of you staying here at headquarters will help to conduct the interviews. As far as the press conference is concerned, I suggest we hold off on that for a while.’
Norrby frowned and looked as if he wanted to protest, but he restrained himself. He settled for muttering his displeasure.
‘For now, the media will have to make do with a press release,’ Knutas went on. ‘We need to find out more about what happened before we talk to any reporters. It remains to be seen what we’ll learn today, and whether the victim even survives. I’ll stay in contact with the hospital. The media interest is going to be huge, so we need to be prepared,’ he said, turning to look at Lars Norrby, who didn’t always find it easy to deal with journalists when the pressure was on.
Jacobsson stopped Knutas as he was heading for the door.
‘How come you know who Kate Moss is?’
‘Why shouldn’t I know who she is?’ he remarked, giving her an inscrutable look.
‘I can’t imagine that you’d be interested in fashion.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m a virtual fashion maven,’ said Knutas, plucking at the checked shirt that he’d bought at the Dressmann menswear shop five years ago.
Jacobsson couldn’t help laughing.
‘Shall we grab a bite to eat?’ she asked.
‘Sure. But I don’t want to eat too much. I have to think of my figure. I’ve heard that, this winter, thin is in.’
IT WAS STILL dark when Pia Lilja headed for Furillen in the TV van. Johan sat in the passenger seat, talking to the duty officer on the phone. No other police officer was available. When he finished the conversation, Johan turned to look at his colleague.
‘He would only confirm that an incident of aggravated assault took place in a cabin that belongs to the hotel, and that the victim has been taken to hospital. Of course, he refused to identify the victim or give any details about the attack. At any rate, the police are on the scene, but they can’t do much until daylight. So far, no one has been arrested.’
‘Aggravated assault,’ said Pia, snorting. ‘I think it sounds more like attempted murder. Apparently, it was a real bloodbath, according to Julia’s mother. And Markus Sandberg isn’t just anybody. Right now, he’s hovering between life and death. It might well turn out to be murder.’
‘Nothing on the TT wire service yet. We’re probably the only ones who know the identity of the victim. I’m going to ring the morning editor.’
Johan phoned the main editorial office of Swedish TV in Stockholm and explained the situation. The editor told him to report back as soon as he knew more. For the moment they would put out a simple statement on the news wire. They would wait until later to publish the victim’s name.
When Pia and Johan pulled up outside the hotel, they could see at once that
‘I have no idea. That’s something we’ll find out today. Everyone is on their way over here to be interviewed.’
‘Were there any other models?’ asked Wittberg. ‘If so, I’d be happy to interview them.’
‘You’re hopeless,’ said Jacobsson, but she couldn’t help smiling.
Knutas was starting to get a headache, and his stomach was growling. He rubbed his forehead and then glanced at his watch. Seven thirty. He’d been up since one thirty but hadn’t yet had anything to eat.
Sohlman stood up. ‘If there’s nothing else, I need to go. I’ve got a lot of work to do out there.’
‘Okay.’ Knutas looked intently at everyone seated around the table. ‘Our colleagues have been searching all night for the perpetrator, and they’ve set up roadblocks at several places in the area. More officers are also on their way out to Furillen right now. The dog unit will continue to search. Who knows? Maybe the assailant is still there, hiding out someplace. As I mentioned, we’ll do a door-to-door in the vicinity this morning. It’s important for us to talk to as many people out there as possible. Those of you staying here at headquarters will help to conduct the interviews. As far as the press conference is concerned, I suggest we hold off on that for a while.’
Norrby frowned and looked as if he wanted to protest, but he restrained himself. He settled for muttering his displeasure.
‘For now, the media will have to make do with a press release,’ Knutas went on. ‘We need to find out more about what happened before we talk to any reporters. It remains to be seen what we’ll learn today, and whether the victim even survives. I’ll stay in contact with the hospital. The media interest is going to be huge, so we need to be prepared,’ he said, turning to look at Lars Norrby, who didn’t always find it easy to deal with journalists when the pressure was on.
Jacobsson stopped Knutas as he was heading for the door.
‘How come you know who Kate Moss is?’
‘Why shouldn’t I know who she is?’ he remarked, giving her an inscrutable look.
‘I can’t imagine that you’d be interested in fashion.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m a virtual fashion maven,’ said Knutas, plucking at the checked shirt that he’d bought at the Dressmann menswear shop five years ago.
Jacobsson couldn’t help laughing.
‘Shall we grab a bite to eat?’ she asked.
‘Sure. But I don’t want to eat too much. I have to think of my figure. I’ve heard that, this winter, thin is in.’
IT WAS STILL dark when Pia Lilja headed for Furillen in the TV van. Johan sat in the passenger seat, talking to the duty officer on the phone. No other police officer was available. When he finished the conversation, Johan turned to look at his colleague.
‘He would only confirm that an incident of aggravated assault took place in a cabin that belongs to the hotel, and that the victim has been taken to hospital. Of course, he refused to identify the victim or give any details about the attack. At any rate, the police are on the scene, but they can’t do much until daylight. So far, no one has been arrested.’
‘Aggravated assault,’ said Pia, snorting. ‘I think it sounds more like attempted murder. Apparently, it was a real bloodbath, according to Julia’s mother. And Markus Sandberg isn’t just anybody. Right now, he’s hovering between life and death. It might well turn out to be murder.’
‘Nothing on the TT wire service yet. We’re probably the only ones who know the identity of the victim. I’m going to ring the morning editor.’
Johan phoned the main editorial office of Swedish TV in Stockholm and explained the situation. The editor told him to report back as soon as he knew more. For the moment they would put out a simple statement on the news wire. They would wait until later to publish the victim’s name.
When Pia and Johan pulled up outside the hotel, they could see at once that
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