Free Exposed by Liza Marklund

flash reflection off the ceiling. It’s all dark brown.’
    ‘Is that why press spokesmen always have red eyes?’ Annika asked with a smile.
    The photographer groaned.
    The room was fairly large, with an orange carpet and beige armchairs with a blue and brown pattern. A small group of journalists had gathered at the front of the room. Arne Påhlson and another reporter from the other evening paper were already there, talking to the police press spokesman. The detective in the Hawaiian shirtwasn’t there. To her surprise, Annika saw that a radio news team had turned up, as well as reporters from the prestigious morning paper that shared a building with the
Evening Post
.
    ‘Murders always get taken more seriously when there’s a press conference,’ Berit whispered.
    The room was oppressively hot, and Annika broke into a sweat again. They sat at the front seeing as there was no one from television there. The first few rows were usually occupied by television cameras and cables. The other evening paper’s reporters sat next to them, and Bertil Strand prepared his cameras. The press spokesman cleared his throat.
    ‘Well, welcome, everyone,’ he said, stepping onto the little platform at the front of the room. He sat down heavily behind a conference table, leafed through his papers and tapped the microphone in front of him.
    ‘So, we’ve invited you here this evening to tell you about a body that was discovered in central Stockholm at lunchtime today,’ he said, pushing his papers aside.
    Annika was sitting next to Berit, and they were both taking notes. Bertil Strand was moving about somewhere to the left of them, looking for the right angles for his pictures.
    ‘We’ve received a lot of requests for information about the case over the course of the day, which is why we decided to call this somewhat impromptu press conference,’ he continued. ‘I thought I might run through some of the facts first, then I’ll be happy to talk to you individually. If that’s okay with you?’
    The journalists nodded. The press spokesman picked up his notes again.
    ‘The emergency desk received notification about adead body at twelve forty-eight,’ he said. ‘The informant was a member of the public who happened to be walking past.’
    Junkie, Annika wrote in her notebook.
    The spokesman fell silent for a moment, before beginning again.
    ‘The dead body is that of a young woman. She has been identified as Hanna Josefin Liljeberg, nineteen years old, and a Stockholm resident. Her relatives have been informed.’
    Annika could feel her stomach lurch. Those cloudy eyes now had a name. She looked around surreptitiously to see how her colleagues were reacting. No one was showing any emotion.
    ‘Josefin had been strangled,’ the press spokesman said. ‘The time of death is as yet not one hundred per cent certain, but we believe it occurred between three o’clock and seven o’clock this morning.’
    He hesitated before going on.
    ‘Examination of the body suggests that she was the victim of a sexual attack prior to death.’
    The image flashed past in Annika’s head, breasts, eyes, screams. The spokesman looked up from the table and his notes.
    ‘We are going to need the public’s help to catch the madman who did this,’ he said tiredly. ‘We don’t have much to go on.’
    Annika glanced at Berit; she had been right.
    ‘Our initial investigations indicate that the site where the body was found was also the site of the murder; there’s forensic evidence to support that theory. As far as we know, the last person to see Josefin alive, apart from the murderer, was her flatmate. They went their separate ways from the restaurant where they both worked shortly before five o’clock this morning, whichmeans that we can narrow the time of death down to a two-hour period.’
    A few flashes went off. Annika assumed it was Bertil Strand.
    ‘So,’ the spokesman concluded, ‘between five o’clock and seven o’clock this morning