Karin Alvtegen - Missing

Lena could hardly keep her tears back as she tells us her story.

I'm so terribly afraid all the time, she confessed. This woman just rang the doorbell and then she told me a lot of lies about how she'd just lost her husband. I never understood what she wanted, but when I later saw the police reconstruction I recognised her face at once…

Sibylla stopped reading. What a pack of lies! The grieving widow couldn't hold back her tears. Is that so? Screw her.

By now there was a new pile of printouts. She grabbed the lot.

Anatomical knowledge is a common skill for slaughter killers.

The police are baffled by the case of the 32-year-old woman, who has been charged in her absence for several murders in which the victims was butchered. A study of all 'butchery' murders carried out in Sweden since the 1960s shows that the murderer typically belongs to occupational groups such as doctors, veterinarians, hunters and butchers. According to Sten Bergman, professor of Forensic Psychiatry, this is a consequence partly of the fact that these professionals have overcome the fear of dissection felt by most people and partly because they have the technical skills.

According to the police investigation of the 32-year-old woman's past, nothing in her background fits with these occupational statistics. Of course, more than just the mental and physical skills are required to turn a person into a potential killer of this kind. Above all, they often have a mental defect associated with low empathy and strong contempt for other people.

Severe mental illness with delusions is another likely precondition. For instance, it seems that in some cases the murderer cannot bear to separate from his or her victim, something that seems to be the case with the 32-year-old woman. In this frame of mind, the perpetrator feels that he or she must have a trophy as a memento of the dead person or of the act of killing. Such personalities believe that they are in control of life and death.

The woman's victims have been subjected to mutilations, which fit a pattern described as 'aggressive'. This is different from so-called passive butchery, carried out in order to conceal the nature of the crime or complicate later investigations. There is no evidence of this kind of precautionary approach in any of her murders. The woman's only intention has been to desecrate her victims. The police are still unwilling to disclose what she did or which body parts she had…

She rose, throwing the papers on the floor, it's too much. I won't read any more.' She had raised her voice and Patrik turned to look at her. 'Hey, quiet!'

She sat down again, listening to the machine spitting out many more sheets of print. People had written all that, thinking about her. Nobody had paid any attention to her before and now she was suddenly the most written-about person in Sweden.

It was so fucking hateful.

'Can't stay here. I'm off.'

He turned her way again.

'Oh, yeah? Like, to where?'

She sighed.

The click of a door opening was heard from somewhere in the flat. They looked anxiously at each other, listening intently. They could hear the rushing water when a tap was turned on. Sibylla rose, looking for places to hide.

'Relax, he's probably just in the loo.'

Patrik wasn't reassuring enough. The moment the tap stopped running she dived down under the bed, just in time before there was a knock on the door.

'You in there, Patrik?'

No reply. Sibylla saw his feet disappear and heard him lie down on the bed. The door opened and a pair of naked hairy legs walked in.

'What, are you asleep?'

'Kind of.'

'It's past eleven o'clock, you know.'

The machine on the desk made a humming noise, producing a belated printout. 'What's that?'

The hairy legs stepped closer. The next second, Patrik's jeans-clad legs materialised right in front of her nose. He must have grabbed the paper.

'Just some stuff.'

'Stuff, eh? And why are you in bed with your clothes on?' I was up, really. I felt like lying down for a bit.' 'Aha. What are you printing?' I've been surfing a bit. Nothing special.' The silence lasted for a few unbearable seconds. 'Well, I'm going back to bed now. Are you at home today, or what?'

'Maybe. I'm not sure.'

'If you go out, please don't come back later than ten o'clock. And you must phone to say where you are.'

She could hear Patrik sighing. The naked male legs walked towards the door and then stopped.

'That's not your rucksack, is it?'

Sibylla closed her eyes, while Patrik seemed to take an age replying. Christ, just say something. You've found it. Nicked it. Any bloody thing at all.

'It's Viktor's.'

That's a good one.

'What's it doing here?'

He forgot it in school and I promised to look after it.' Better still. The legs were walking again. 'See you later. Remember, you must tidy up in here before your Mum comes back.' ‘I will.'

Then the door finally closed behind him and Patrik's smiling face was peering at her below the edge of the bed. 'Were you scared now?'

She crawled out. She tried to brush the dust off her front while she hissed at him.

'Can't you lock the door?'

He was sitting on the bed studying the piece of paper he had hidden from his Dad. She looked over his shoulder. HUNTING A KILLER. He seemed thoughtful. 'I know what we've got to do.' She couldn't think what to say.

'Think! The police are after you and nobody else. Question: who's to track down the real murderer?' No idea.

'Don't you see? We'll have to do it. We've got to find the murderer.'

At first she felt simply angry. So angry that she started towards the door, picking up her rucksack in the passing. She stopped with her hand reaching for the door-handle, suddenly uncertain. She didn't dare step outside yet.

She put the rucksack down and sighed.

'Patrik, don't be silly. This isn't some kind of exciting game.'

'I know. It's just – well, do you have any better ideas?'

She turned to face him, but he was picking up the papers she had thrown down. She went to help him and when the papers were stacked in order again, she sat down on the bed.

'What chances do you think we've got?'

He leaned forward, speaking in an eager whisper.

'Sylla, listen. The police are looking for YOU. No one else. It gives us space. We know that there must be another person who's the killer.'

'So what can we do? We've no information.'

He leaned back to be able to meet her eyes.

'Please promise not to be angry.'

'What? I mean, how can I promise?'

He hesitated. By now she was truly curious about what it was that he thought might make her angry. 'Ah… my Mum's in the police.'

She was transfixed. He met her eyes. When the true significance of what he had said dawned on her, her blood seemed to pump faster through her body and she rose.

'I've got to get out of here. Check the hall, please.'

'Cool it.'

'NOW. Please, Patrik.'

She had raised her voice to a dangerous pitch and he obeyed, sighing. After peering outside, he opened the door wide. She got hold of her rucksack and walked swiftly past him.

'Please, Sylla. Please listen!'

She was walking quickly, but he was only one step behind her. When she'd turned the corner and started down Folkunga Street, she hoped she'd lose him. Not one word more from Patrik. 'My Mum's in the police.' Fancy that. He had invited her straight into a hornets' nest. She stopped abruptly. He was unprepared and ran straight into her.

'So what do you think would've happened if your Mum had come home unexpectedly. Fucking what, exactly?'

The adrenaline was still rushing through her veins.

'Come off it. She's on a course!'