“If Samra was really hiding a secret that would be so damaging to the family’s honor that they felt they had to kill her, wouldn’t it be possible that they went one step further if they realized that she had confided in her friend from school?”
A thoughtful silence settled over the room as they each tried to picture that scenario.
Ruth got up and walked over to the window, where she gazed out over the square in front of the old police station. Grass and big trees filled the space between the building and the sidewalk on Jernbanegade.
A couple of uniforms were called in to keep an eye on Samra’s family members and make sure none of them left the police station while the team was quickly gathered.
“You’re on to something,” Storm said, nodding at Louise. “That would also explain why the one murder was so carefully thought out and the other seemed very impulsive. If they felt threatened by what Dicta knew, they would have acted fast.”
“Let’s arrest the father and son for killing Samra,” Velin said. “Then we can add charges later to cover Dicta’s murder.”
“Yeah, or we could charge them with both killings from the get-go,” Skipper suggested.
Louise was sitting on the edge of the table.
“We don’t know what secret she was hiding,” Mik reminded them. “Let’s be cautious now not to read too much into this.”
“No, but we know there was one and we know she feared for her life. That’s enough for me right now,” Skipper interjected. “What we don’t know is which of them killed her. That’s why we charge them both.”
“Often the person chosen to do the killing is the person the family can most easily do without,” Dean explained and said that could either be someone who didn’t have anyone else to look after or someone who wasn’t able to contribute by sending money back to the remaining family members in the old country. “Of course it also happens that that person is sometimes a minor,” he concluded.
“You’re saying you think it was Hamid who killed his sister?” Bengtsen said.
“I don’t know what I think. I’d really like a little more to go on before I sign on to anything. I’m just telling you what kinds of considerations I would expect people to contemplate in families living according to strict cultural traditions,” Dean hurried to add.
Storm had remained silent, but now cleared his throat to interrupt their conversation. “I’m not sure we have enough right now to hold them on,” he said, “but we’ll do it and then gamble on more coming out during questioning. We may also get lucky and have something turn up if we do a new search, and then we have to hope it’ll be enough.”
“What about Sada?” Louise asked.
“She can go home to the two little ones, and then we’ll follow the audio surveillance closely and have it interpreted as we go. We can easily guess that there will be increased activity if we’re holding her husband and oldest son,” Storm replied. He asked Ruth to get hold of the interpreter they’d had listening to, transcribing, and translating the tapes from the last several weeks in installments of several days’ worth at a time.
“It’s Monday, October 9. The time is 4:55
P.M.
You are under arrest for the murders of your daughter Samra al-Abd and her friend Dicta Møller,” Louise said when she returned to the office.
Ibrahim jumped as if he’d received an electrical shock. He stared at her with his eyes agape, after which he collapsed in his chair with his head bowed and his chin resting on his chest.
Louise thought for a minute that he’d fainted and moved over to him. For a brief instant she saw Mik standing out in the hallway with Hamid, ready to walk him down to the uniforms downstairs so the arrest could be processed.
“I have to ask you to follow me,” she said quietly, watching him as he slowly collected himself and stood up.
Neither the father nor the son said anything as their names were entered in the arrest log and they were searched, their possessions placed in clear plastic bags.
“We’ll walk you over to the jail,” Louise said, holding the door for them. Ibrahim had kept his eyes on the ground, but when he was even with Louise, he raised his head and gazed right into her eyes with a profoundly unhappy, silent look, as he almost imperceptibly shook his head.
Two officers were waiting in the jail to accept the men. They said hello to Mik and nodded at her. Before they took Ibrahim and Hamid away, Louise stopped them and walked over to the two arrestees.
“If there’s anything you want to say, just ask to come talk to Mik Rasmussen or me,” she said and then watched them as they started walking down the hallway toward the jail cells.
Louise and Mik returned to their office and started reading through all the previous transcripts of questioning sessions with the family members before they started with the father and son again.
It was only just seven when the deputy chief of police walked into the office and said he wanted to order a preliminary examination that same day so they could get it over with.
Louise was up out of her desk chair so fast that it shot backward and slammed into the wall.
“Out of the question,” she said, giving him a stern look. “We need the full time, and we have twenty-four hours for the questioning we need to get through.”
Mik was also standing, but he said nothing.
The deputy chief paced back and forth a little bit before he leaned against the wall and looked from Mik to Louise.
“I read the whole thing and I’m not sure I have enough to keep them in custody,” he finally said.
Louise pulled her chair back to her desk and sat down.
“But this isn’t a presentation of the evidence. You just need to convince the judge that there is reason to suspect that if we let them out, they could sync up their explanations and sway other people,” Louise said and referenced section 762 (1), paragraph 3. “Now just give us a little peace to do our work.”
The deputy chief hesitated. “Fine. We’ll hold off on the preliminary examination until tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “But by then, I will also expect you to have something more for me.”
31
A
T TEN PAST EIGHT THE FOLLOWING MORNING
,
THE GROUP WAS
once again gathered in the command room. There was a carafe of coffee, and Velin had stopped by the bakery on his morning jog to make sure there were some Danishes too.
“We’re going to search the family’s home again,” Storm began, once they had all helped themselves. It was obvious that there’d been a break in the case, but at the same time the mood was tense and focused. The deputy chief of police had stopped by again to make it clear that he would appreciate it if they had a little more for him before he had to appear for the preliminary examination, but Storm had calmly said that if the man just had faith that the case would hold, then he already had enough.
Now Storm looked at Skipper and Dean. “Go through everything, you two,” he said. “And you should tear things apart. We need something more to connect the family to Dicta Møller’s murder and we have to find the murder weapon.”
They received a brief description of the presumed weapon with the two distinctive rounded protrusions that Dicta had been hit with. According to Flemming Larsen, it had to have a certain heft.
“The crime-scene technicians finished at the site yesterday, and two of them will join you out at Dysseparken,” Storm continued.
“Do we know that the murder location is the same as where the body was found?” Mik asked, looking at Skipper and Dean, who had helped process the parking lot.
“Yes, there’s no doubt about that. She was bleeding so much, we would have found traces of blood other places in the parking lot if she’d been transported there,” Skipper said.
“It’s sheer coincidence that no one saw the attack,” Dean said, shaking his head. “It was so violent.”
“It may also be a coincidence that it happened right there,” Storm said, repeating that it was still his guess that there had been strong emotions associated with it.
“Rage,” Louise suggested.
Storm nodded.
Bengtsen briefly cleared his throat and then said, “Could that young girl have tried to use what she knew to pressure Samra’s family? Just a thought. But maybe that could have been the provocation?”
Everyone around the table went silent, trying to picture that.
“What the fuck did she want to get out of it?” Skipper asked.
“I couldn’t say. But if Dicta felt sure that Samra’s family had murdered her friend, we certainly can’t rule out that she confronted them with her suspicion. Maybe the brother, whom she knew better than the parents.”
Storm shrugged.
Louise’s first impulse was that the theory was way out there, but on second thought she decided not to say anything because ultimately she just couldn’t figure out what had been going on in Dicta’s head. If she had sent her own pictures in to
Ekstra Bladet
, she had already stepped well beyond what Louise would have imagined she would do; and she had also sneaked off to Copenhagen and gone traipsing around with a much older man without filling anyone in on her adventures.
Seen in that light, it was very hard to dismiss the idea that it might have occurred to her to use what she knew against the family. If she had done that, it surely wouldn’t have been to pressure them, Louise thought, but to let them know that she knew something and it wouldn’t have been very well thought out. It just made the picture of an immature, naïve young girl all the more clear. All in all, that fit quite well with the Dicta who’d shown new sides of herself during the time Louise had known her.
“We can’t rule out that she was seeking justice for her friend’s death, if Samra had confided something to her, and she may well have confronted Hamid with it,” Louise said, reminding them that even the first time she’d appeared at the police station, Dicta had expressed her concern about the family’s role in connection with Samra’s disappearance. “Maybe she hoped she could get them to turn themselves in.”
“That’s not a bad theory. Let’s bring them in from the jail so we can proceed again,” Storm said, wrapping up the meeting.
“What the hell are you doing?” Camilla shouted heatedly when she burst into Louise and Mik’s office five minutes later. With no makeup on and her bed-head hair gathered into a loose ponytail, she stood flinging her arms around, wearing gray sweatpants and a sweater, which was enough to show that she’d come darting out of her hotel room the second she got off the phone. No doubt that was also the reason Mik didn’t recognize her right away, even though he’d seen her before. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been dressed the way her vanity required her to be: in a skirt, shoes with impressive heels, a little form-fitting jacket, and perfect makeup. Louise had never understood how Camilla could stand to put all that on just to go to work, but that was one of the discussions they had that never got anywhere, in the same way Louise could never make her friend understand how she could leave her apartment without makeup.
“Are you people stupid, or what?” Camilla railed on, now that she had decided Mik wasn’t going to throw her out. “What are you trying to achieve?”
Her loud yells had brought Storm to the doorway, where he stood listening, without Camilla having noticed.
“Good morning, Ms. Lind,” he said with a smile when Camilla finally spun around and stared at him crossly.
She stepped toward him. “Are you getting desperate? Or are some guys higher up starting to breathe down your necks?” she asked, glaring at him.
The lead investigator seemed to be enjoying this, and on some level Louise was impressed at her friend’s courage, because crime-beat reporters depended on being on good terms with guys like Storm. At the same time, Louise was also embarrassed for her. Camilla could act as if she owned the Danish media, and on many occasions that was far from flattering. But she did have a point.
“You must see how you’ll look if you end up having to release them,” Camilla told Storm.
Storm was looking serious again and asked if it might not be a good idea for Camilla to join him for a quick cup of coffee. Louise didn’t have trouble figuring out that it didn’t particularly serve Storm’s interests that news of the arrests had leaked out, since he wasn’t sure yet that the judge would allow the two men to be kept in custody.
Louise looked over at Mik.
“What just happened?” he asked.
If he had been a comic-book character, his jaw would have been hanging down to the floor, Louise thought and smiled at him.
“Camilla’s right,” she finally said after sitting a moment in silence. “If the judge lets them go, we’re in for a trip through the wringer because it’ll look like the arrests were based solely on racial profiling.”
Mik sat up straighter.
“But we actually did arrest them based on something,” he reminded her. “And we can’t go overboard on the political correctness just to protect our reputations,” he continued, irritated.
Louise sat for a moment before saying she didn’t agree. She was just trying to provide her best guesstimate about how things would look if the judge let Ibrahim and Hamid go.
“We have enough to keep them in custody,” Mik said tersely and asked if they should get started on the questioning so the deputy chief would feel prepared when he presented the arrestees to the judge.