to blame.
Annika looked directly into the wind, which caused tears to well up in her eyes. The main office of the Stockholm Harbour Authority was right in front of her, a beautiful old brick building with nooks, terraces, and a multilevel sheet-metal roof. Behind the building, a row of gigantic grain silos pointed skywards like erect penises. The Estonia ferry terminal was located on the left, then came the waterfront. To the right, there was a dock with cranes and warehouses on either side.
She turned up the collar of her jacket, tightened her scarf and slowly headed for the office. A ferry destined for Tallinn was in, looming behind the buildings. The Baltic States’ window to the west.
As she turned the corner of the office building, the area cordoned off by the police came into view. The blue and white tape fluttered in the breeze over by the silos, forlorn there in the cold. No police officers were in sight. She stopped and studied the tongue of land ahead of her. This had to be the very heart of the harbour. The area was a few hundred metres in length and it was bordered by enormous warehouses on either side. At the far end, beyond the cordoned-off zone, she could glimpse a parking lot for trailers. The only people around, over by the trailers were a few workers in bright yellow vests.
Slowly Annika approached the crime scene, glancing up at the towering silos. Even though her feet were firmly on the ground, their loftiness made her feel giddy. The tips of the silos blended almost seamlessly into the sky, grey on grey. She followed them with her gaze until she felt the leathery crime scene tape brush against her thigh.
There was a narrow strip between the silos that daylight couldn’t reach. This was where life had drained out of the victims. She blinked a few times to get used to the darkness and could just make out the dark stains left by their blood. The bodies had been found at the start of the passage, not hidden in the shadows.
She turned her back on death and took a look around. Rows of huge floodlights were lined up along the docks. The entire harbour area would be bathed in light, apart from the spaces between the silos.
If you were going to shoot a person, why leave him in the floodlights? Why not drag him into the shadows? I guess that would depend on if you were in a hurry or not , she figured.
She lowered her gaze, stamped her feet and blew on her hands, splattering slush around her. What a God-awful winter. Beyond the cordoned-off area she noticed the warehouse where SVT, the Swedish public-service television network, stored their props and sets. Is this where it is? she thought.
Annika went past the crime scene. Icy Baltic winds made the drizzle frigid, leaving her shivering with cold. She looped her scarf one more time around her neck and continued down to the waterfront, following a chain link fence that constituted the border with the Baltic States. A truck that had seen better days stood spewing exhaust fumes on the other side, so she pulled her scarf up over her nose. The fence ended with a large gate right next to the parking lot for trailers. Three Customs officers were inspecting the next-to-last truck of the day, the last being the environmental hazard behind her.
‘Can I help you?’ The man, dressed in the uniform of a Customs officer under his yellow vest, was florid from the cold. His eyes had a bright and cheerful expression. Annika smiled.
‘I was just curious. I work for a paper and I read about the murders back there,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder.
‘If you’re planning on writing something, you’d better contact our press relations manager,’ the man replied in a friendly voice.
‘Oh no, I’m not a reporter, I just check the articles and see that everything’s right. That’s why it’s good to get out once in a while, so you’ll know if the reporters are out of line.’
The Customs officer laughed. ‘Well then, you’ve got your work cut out for
Annika looked directly into the wind, which caused tears to well up in her eyes. The main office of the Stockholm Harbour Authority was right in front of her, a beautiful old brick building with nooks, terraces, and a multilevel sheet-metal roof. Behind the building, a row of gigantic grain silos pointed skywards like erect penises. The Estonia ferry terminal was located on the left, then came the waterfront. To the right, there was a dock with cranes and warehouses on either side.
She turned up the collar of her jacket, tightened her scarf and slowly headed for the office. A ferry destined for Tallinn was in, looming behind the buildings. The Baltic States’ window to the west.
As she turned the corner of the office building, the area cordoned off by the police came into view. The blue and white tape fluttered in the breeze over by the silos, forlorn there in the cold. No police officers were in sight. She stopped and studied the tongue of land ahead of her. This had to be the very heart of the harbour. The area was a few hundred metres in length and it was bordered by enormous warehouses on either side. At the far end, beyond the cordoned-off zone, she could glimpse a parking lot for trailers. The only people around, over by the trailers were a few workers in bright yellow vests.
Slowly Annika approached the crime scene, glancing up at the towering silos. Even though her feet were firmly on the ground, their loftiness made her feel giddy. The tips of the silos blended almost seamlessly into the sky, grey on grey. She followed them with her gaze until she felt the leathery crime scene tape brush against her thigh.
There was a narrow strip between the silos that daylight couldn’t reach. This was where life had drained out of the victims. She blinked a few times to get used to the darkness and could just make out the dark stains left by their blood. The bodies had been found at the start of the passage, not hidden in the shadows.
She turned her back on death and took a look around. Rows of huge floodlights were lined up along the docks. The entire harbour area would be bathed in light, apart from the spaces between the silos.
If you were going to shoot a person, why leave him in the floodlights? Why not drag him into the shadows? I guess that would depend on if you were in a hurry or not , she figured.
She lowered her gaze, stamped her feet and blew on her hands, splattering slush around her. What a God-awful winter. Beyond the cordoned-off area she noticed the warehouse where SVT, the Swedish public-service television network, stored their props and sets. Is this where it is? she thought.
Annika went past the crime scene. Icy Baltic winds made the drizzle frigid, leaving her shivering with cold. She looped her scarf one more time around her neck and continued down to the waterfront, following a chain link fence that constituted the border with the Baltic States. A truck that had seen better days stood spewing exhaust fumes on the other side, so she pulled her scarf up over her nose. The fence ended with a large gate right next to the parking lot for trailers. Three Customs officers were inspecting the next-to-last truck of the day, the last being the environmental hazard behind her.
‘Can I help you?’ The man, dressed in the uniform of a Customs officer under his yellow vest, was florid from the cold. His eyes had a bright and cheerful expression. Annika smiled.
‘I was just curious. I work for a paper and I read about the murders back there,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder.
‘If you’re planning on writing something, you’d better contact our press relations manager,’ the man replied in a friendly voice.
‘Oh no, I’m not a reporter, I just check the articles and see that everything’s right. That’s why it’s good to get out once in a while, so you’ll know if the reporters are out of line.’
The Customs officer laughed. ‘Well then, you’ve got your work cut out for
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