They didn't have to put on sterile green gowns; Errfors was too experienced not to know when rules could be broken. He switched off all the lamps apart from the one over the trolley, its bright cone of light illuminating the stage in the darkened space.
'This is how I prefer it. No reflections from shiny surfaces to disturb the examination.'
They saw a child's face, looking peaceful, as if asleep; recognised Marie from her parents' photos.
Errfors was rummaging in a plastic case. He produced a pair of big black-rimmed glasses with magnifying lenses, and a couple of A4 sheets of paper.
'Now. She is less serene-looking under the cover.'
The room was silent, well sound-insulated; the rustling of bits of paper invaded their aural space.
'Traces of semen were found in her vagina and anus, and on her body. The perpetrator ejaculated over the body, before and also after death.'
He lifted the cover. Sven turned his face away. He could not bear to look.
'A hard object with a sharp point has been forcibly introduced into her vagina and caused severe internal haemorrhaging.'
As he listened carefully, Ewert observed the exposed body of the little girl. He sighed.
'He did exactly that last time.'
'The acts were more brutal then, but yes, you're right. The MO was the same.'
'Seems he used a curtain rail then.'
'Could be, but I haven't been able to identify the object. Only that it was hard and pointed.'
The pathologist produced the next sheet of paper.
'I have established the cause of death. A powerful blow, probably the edge of the criminal's hand, directed against the larynx.'
Ewert noted the big bruise across her throat. He turned to Sven, who was still looking away.
'Hold on, you.'
'I can't stand it.'
'No need. I'm doing the looking.'
'Thanks.'
'Still, you should note that we've got him.'
'We've got fuck all.'
'Not once we pick him up. He has ejaculated all over her. Just like last time, there's semen all over the place. And we've kept samples from last time. One DNA test will do the trick.'
She had been lying in the wood. In his mind, Sven saw Margareta and Rune Lantz, an elderly couple still in love, sitting together and holding hands while the tears trickled from their eyes, right through the interrogation. Hers had been worst, a silent flow every time she was forced to describe what she had seen.
Let's sit down here. This stone.
Yes.
I want to ask you questions here, with the place in view. Can you cope with that?
Yes.
I want to know what happened, right from the start.
May Rune stay with me?
Of course.
I don't know…
Please try.
I mean, I don't know if I can do this.
Try, for the sake of the little girl.
We take a walk, every evening. If it doesn't rain too much.
Here?
Yes.
Always the same way?
Often a little different. The way. To make a change.
What about this way?
It was the first time, I think. Isn't that right, Rune?
Let's keep this between the two of us now. Just you and me.
Well, I didn't remember it from before.
And why did you walk just here?
It happened because we heard the helicopter.
What about the helicopter?
I didn't like it. Unpleasant, it was. And then that policeman with his dog. We started to hurry and it seemed like a short cut.
What happened when you got here?
Do you have a paper tissue? Or a hanky?
I'm sorry. No.
Forgive me for bothering you.
Please, don't apologise.
We had been walking hand in hand. Then, by that fir tree, we let go.
Why?
It was big, blocking our way. We had to walk round it, on opposite sides.
What happened next?
I thought it was a toadstool. A bright red thing. I kicked it, not hard.
What was it?
A shoe. I realised once I'd kicked it that it was a shoe.
What did you do?
I waited until Rune came along. I just knew something was wrong.
How do you mean that you just knew?
Sometimes you feel things. This time everything was upsetting. The helicopters, the policeman and the dog. And then a shoe.
Tell me what you did. Exactly.
I took the shoe and showed it to Rune. I wanted him to see.
And then?
Then she was lying there.
Where?
On the ground. Under the tree. And I could see that she was destroyed.
Destroyed?
That she wasn't whole. I saw it and Rune did too. She had been destroyed.
She was lying on the ground, you say. Did you touch her?
Why should we? She was dead.
I have to ask you these things.
I can't cope any more now.
Just a few more questions.
I can't.
Did you see anyone here?
The girl. She was lying there, looking at me. All destroyed.
I meant someone else. Someone except you and Rune?
No. We had seen that policeman. And his dog.
No one else?
I can't any more. Rune, tell him I can't.
The pathologist was looking in his plastic folder for a third sheet of paper, but couldn't find it. He left the trolley to search for it on a shelf.
'Here,' he said. 'I've got something else for you that links this case with the past.'
He came back, pulled the cover into place and Sven could look again.
'We noted straight away that the soles of her feet were perfectly clean. The rest of her body was torn and bloody and dirty. We investigated and found traces of-'
'Of saliva? Am I right?'
Errfors nodded.
'Yes, you are. Saliva, just like last time.'
Ewert looked at her face. She wasn't there. Her body was, but she wasn't.
'That's Lund's idea of foreplay. Licking their feet. And their shoes.'
'Not this time.'
'But you just said…'
'Not foreplay, that is. He licked the soles of this girl's feet after death.'
He hadn't seen her for months. They had talked practically every day, but on the phone and only about Marie, things like what time she got up that morning, what she had for breakfast and what new words she had used. Had she played something different, had she cried, laughed, lived? Every moment of her growth was stolen from the parent Marie wasn't with and they compensated as best they could by talking about her. Marie, and only Marie, brought them together without bitterness or accusations or regret about love lost.
Agnes' beautiful face, he knew it, and he also knew what it looked like when she cried; it swelled until her features blurred. He put his hand on her cheek; she smiled, held him more tightly.
A policeman came to the door to let them in. It was one of the senior ones who had come to The Dove, an older man with a slight limp.
'How do you do? I'm Detective Chief Inspector Ewert Grens. We met yesterday.'
'Hello. Fredrik Steffansson. I recognise you. This is Agnes Steffansson, Marie's mother.'
They went down a flight of stairs and along a short hospital-type corridor. The other policeman, the one who'd led the interrogations yesterday, was waiting in a doorway, and behind him, a white-coated doctor with tired eyes.
'Good afternoon. We didn't get introduced yesterday. I'm Sven Sundkvist, Detective Inspector. And this is Dr Ludvig Errfors from the Forensic Science Service. He is responsible for Marie's autopsy. '
Marie's autopsy.
The phrase was a howled obscenity. It cut to the quick, was hateful, final.
The last twenty-four hours ached inside them, hours of hell hope hell hope hell. Yesterday, sometime after midday, Fredrik had said goodbye to the human being that they both lived and breathed for. Now, in a sterile forensic mortuary, they were to look at her destroyed body and admit it was hers. They clung to each other.