Her whole face was a mess of lacerations and bruises. Long bruises disfigured her neck. Her left arm was in plaster to above elbow level, and her lower right arm was bandaged. Her forehead was covered in dressings, right up to her hairline.
‘Poor thing,’ were the words that flew through Peder’s head. ‘Poor, poor girl.’
A young nursing assistant was sitting by her bed. The nurse’s face was grave. Peder guessed he wasn’t the only person to be appalled by the extent of the woman’s injuries.
The discreet clearing of a throat made them turn round smartly.
A man in a white coat, with thick grey hair and a dark moustache, was silhouetted in the doorway. He introduced himself as Morgan Thulin, the doctor responsible for Monika’s care.
‘Peder Rydh,’ said Peder, squeezing the other man’s hand.
The handshake felt solid. Stable. He guessed Alex was making the same judgment.
‘I don’t know how much you’ve been told about her injuries,’ said the doctor.
‘Not a great deal,’ admitted Alex, stealing a glance at what was left of the woman in the bed.
‘Well in that case,’ Morgan Thulin said firmly but kindly, ‘I consider it my duty to inform you. She is still, as you see, in a very serious condition. She’s drifting uneasily in and out of consciousness, and finds it hard to speak when she tries to. The whole jaw area has been damaged, and until this morning her tongue was so swollen that it almost entirely filled the oral cavity.’
Peder swallowed, and the doctor went on.
‘Your police colleagues who are looking into the assault were here earlier to ask who did this to her, but she wasn’t able to tell them anything coherent or comprehensible. My guess is that she’s still in a state of shock, and then there’s the effect of the pain relief we’re giving her. Apart from the injuries you can see, she’s got several broken ribs. She doesn’t seem to have been subjected to any kind of sexual assault, but she has a number of severe burns.’
‘Burns?’ echoed Peder.
Morgan Thulin nodded.
‘Match burns, about twenty of them all over her body, including the inside of her thigh and the front of her neck.’
The room shrank, there was no air, and Peder wanted to go home. All his enthusiasm evaporated. He stared listlessly at the leaves of a plant on one of the window ledges.
‘The burns will leave her with permanent cosmetic scarring, but no functional impairment, clinically speaking. As for the mental scars, it’s too early to say, but I’m sure she’s going to have a long road to recovery. Very long indeed.’
Strange, the plant seemed to be moving. Was it the draught from the open window making it sway like that? Peder’s eyes followed the plant from side to side several times before he was brought back to reality by the fact that everything had gone quiet. Why wasn’t the doctor talking any more? Alex gave a little cough.
‘Sorry,’ said Peder in a low voice. ‘Sorry, it’s been a mad couple of days, that’s all…’
He could scarcely believe he was hearing his own voice. What was he saying?
Morgan Thulin patted him on the shoulder. Alex raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.
‘There’s more I should tell you, if you’re sure you can take it?’
This made Peder so embarrassed that he wished he could hide behind the goddamned pot plant.
‘Naturally I shall listen to everything you can tell us,’ he said, in an attempt to sound in command of the situation.
Morgan Thulin eyed him dubiously, but was charitable enough not to say anything. Alex followed his example.
‘There are signs of previous injuries, too,’ the doctor said. ‘So it seems this was not the first time she was beaten up.’
‘Not the first time?’
‘No, definitely not. The X-rays of her fingers show scarring on most of them indicative of fractures left to heal by themselves. Both arms have been broken, and there are signs of previous injuries to the ribs. She also has marks left by previous burns. We’ve counted about ten, so the assault this time seems to have been on a whole new scale.’
When Morgan Thulin had finished his account, they stood there nodding. Morgan Thulin nodded to show his story was at an end, and Peder to indicate he understood what he had just been told. Alex nodded mainly because the others were nodding too.
Then the woman in the bed made a sudden movement.
She whimpered quietly and tried to sit up. Immediately the nurse was there, gently restraining her. If she could just lie still, they would raise the head end of the bed so she was sitting up a bit.
Peder rushed over to help with the bed. Partly he wanted nothing more than to help, partly it gave him a chance to get nearer the woman. He saw she was barely able to open her eyes, but was still intently tracking his movements, first across the room and then as he helped to adjust the bed.
Morgan Thulin left them, saying, ‘I shall be in my office if there’s anything else you need to know.’
Peder wondered where to sit. It felt too intimate and intrusive to perch on the edge of the bed. But the easy chair on the other side of the room felt much too far away. He promptly pushed the chair closer to the bed, so he was about the right distance from the woman. Alex stayed over by the door.
Peder introduced himself and Alex by their forenames and surnames, and said they were from the police. He saw the woman’s gaze change and darken. She held up her hands as if to keep them at bay.
‘We only want to talk to you,’ he said cautiously. ‘If you aren’t up to answering, or don’t want to, that’s fine. We’ll just go away.’
He restrained himself from adding, ‘And come back another day.’
‘Can you nod if you understand what I’m saying?’
The woman regarded him in silence, and then nodded.
‘Can you tell us your name first?’
Peder waited, but the woman didn’t speak. The nurse helped her take a sip of water. Peder carried on waiting.
‘Jelena,’ came a whisper.
‘Jelena?’ repeated Peder.
The woman nodded.
‘And what’s your surname?’
A further pause. Another sip of water.
‘Scortz.’
A light breeze from the slightly open window brushed across Peder’s cheek. He tried not to smile, not to show how pleased he was. It was really her. They’d finally found Monika Sander.
He felt suddenly unsure how to proceed. They didn’t even know for sure that this woman – Monika Sander – was the one who delayed Sara Sebastiansson at Flemingsberg. But they needed to know. Peder thought frantically. Mainly about why he hadn’t got this all worked out before they got to the hospital.
He decided to start from the other end.
‘Who did this to you?’ he asked quietly.
The woman in the bed rubbed her plaster cast on the sheet. Perhaps it had already started itching.
‘The Man,’ she whispered.
Peder leaned forward.
‘Sorry, I didn’t quite…’
The nurse at the bedside was clearly irritated, but made no comment.
‘The Man,’ said the woman again, and it was obvious she was making an effort to speak clearly. ‘That’s… what I… call him.’
Peder stared at her.
‘The Man?’ he repeated.
She nodded slowly.
‘Okay,’ said Peder carefully. ‘But do you know where he lives?’
‘Only… see him… my…’ slurred the woman.
‘You only see him at your place?’ Peder supplied.
She nodded.
‘So you don’t know where he lives?’
She shook her head.
‘Do you know where he works?’
She shook her head.
‘Psy-chol-o…’
‘Psychologist? He told you he was a psychologist?’