Unseen Read Free

Eksta in the island’s interior. He was visiting his sister in Fröjel. He and his sister took long walks by the sea in all kinds of weather, even on a foggy day like this.
    Today his sister had decided not to come along. She had a cold and a bad cough and wanted to stay indoors.
    Erik had his mind set on a walk. Together they ate a lunch of fish soup and lingonberry bread, which he had baked himself. Afterward he climbed into his rubber boots, pulled on his parka, and went out.
    The morning’s blanket of fog had lifted. Above the fields and meadows on both sides of the narrow gravel path, it was quite clear. The air felt cold and damp. He straightened his cap and decided to walk down to the water. The gravel made a familiar crunching sound under his feet. The black sheep he passed looked up from their grazing as he walked by. Three crows sat in a row on the old half-rotten gate down by the last patch of woods before the beach. They lifted off in unison with an offended cawing as he approached.
    Just as he was about to refasten the rusty latch after him, his eye was caught by something odd at the edge of the ditch. It looked like part of an animal. He went closer to the ditch and bent down to look. It was a paw, and it was bloody. Too big to be from a rabbit. Could it be a fox? No, it was black underneath the blood.
    Erik moved his gaze along the bloody trail. A little farther off he saw a big black dog. It was lying on its side with its eyes wide open. Its head was twisted at a funny angle, and its fur was completely drenched in blood. The tail looked strangely thick and shiny in the midst of the butchery. When he got closer he could see that its throat had been cut and the head was almost severed from the rest of the dog’s body.
    He felt sick and had to sit down on a rock. He was breathing hard, holding his hand to his mouth. His heart was pounding. It was horribly quiet. After a while he got up with an effort and looked around. What had happened here? Erik Andersson had scarcely finished the thought when he caught sight of her. The dead woman lay half covered by pine boughs and branches. She was naked. Her body was covered by big bloody wounds, like stab wounds. Dark locks of hair fell over her forehead, and her lips had lost all color. Her mouth was half open, and when he ventured closer he discovered that a piece of cloth had been stuffed between her lips.
    The call came into Visby police headquarters at 1:02 p.m. Thirty-five minutes later, two police cars with sirens screaming pulled into Svea Johansson’s yard in Fröjel. It took another five minutes before the medics arrived to take care of the old man, who was rocking back and forth on a chair in the kitchen. His older sister pointed out the wooded area where her brother had made the discovery.
    Detective Superintendent Anders Knutas and his colleague Detective Inspector Karin Jacobsson hurried on foot toward the patch of woods. They were followed closely by crime scene technician Erik Sohlman and four other officers with dogs.
    On the path, before it reached the beach, lay the slaughtered dog in a ditch. Its throat had been cut, and one front paw was missing. The ground all around was spattered with blood.
    Sohlman bent over the dog. “Hacked to death,” he observed. “The injuries seem to have been caused by a sharp-edged weapon, presumably an axe.”
    Karin Jacobsson shuddered. She was a big animal lover.
    A short distance away they found the mutilated body of the woman. They studied the corpse in silence. The only sound came from the waves breaking on the beach.
    She lay there naked under a tree in the grove. The body was covered with blood, through which patches of skin could be seen, shining white. Deep stab wounds were visible on her neck, breast, and stomach. Her eyes were wide open, her lips dry and cracked. It looked as if she were yawning. A tight feeling of nausea settled in Knutas’s stomach. He bent over to look more closely.
    The perpetrator