Dark Angel (Anders Knutas 6)

wasn’t about to admit that he actually agreed with her. Instead he changed the subject.
    ‘Speaking of our work, I think we should plan on doing more segments about violence among young people. And if, contrary to all expectations, we need to put together a report for the late news broadcast, we could always do something on the Alexander case. His condition hasn’t changed, but we could talk to kids about what happened. According to the desk sergeant, things have been relatively calm in town, apparently as a result of the assault. And by the way, Alexander is just the latest in a long series of victims, although he ended up suffering worse injuries than most.’
    Johan rummaged through the pile of folders on his desk until he found the one he wanted, which he handed to Pia.
    ‘I’ve found forty-five assault cases involving teenagers during the past year here on Gotland. No one has been seriously hurt before, but it looks like it’s just a matter of time before somebody dies – if Alexander manages to pull through, that is.’
    ‘Yeah. What a bloody mess,’ sighed Pia. ‘Some of my cousins were present when a fight took place last summer and a kid was badly beaten. He’s probably included in your statistics. The boy over at the Östercentrum mall, if you remember the case.’
    ‘Remind me.’
    ‘He was attacked with iron pipes and clubs, but I think they mostly aimed at his body, not at his head. My cousins weren’t involved in the fight itself, but they saw the whole thing. I just can’t believe that anyone would stand around and watch something like that without intervening.’
    ‘It’s strange all right. But it’s hard to predict how you yourself would react in a similar situation. That’s another aspect of the whole thing. And something else that I think people forget, both in general discussions and with regard to youth violence, is the role of the parents. Where are the parents? What are they doing? What do they think? How do they feel? How much responsibility do they have for the fact that things have gone so far? What are they doing to stop the violence? As in the case of Alexander, for instance. No parents have made any sort of statement to the media – neither the parents of the victim nor of the perpetrators. There were five boys involved, according to the police. You’d think that someone would say something.’
    ‘I don’t think it’s strange at all. They’re obviously ashamed about what happened. Just think what it’s like here on this little island, where everyone knows everyone else, more or less. Or at least knows someone who knows someone. It’s not that easy to make a public statement, saying that your son is a brutal bully. Especially if he might be charged as an accessory to murder, if things go badly. They’ve been detained, haven’t they?’
    ‘Three of them have. The other two were released pending trial because they’re so young. Only fifteen.’
    They were interrupted by the phone ringing. The editor in Stockholm was calling to say that they could go home. The evening news programmes already had more than enough material.
    But they were told to keep their mobile phones switched on, just in case.

EVERYTHING WAS CALM outside the conference centre when Knutas arrived. A couple of police vehicles had been parked haphazardly in front of the main entrance; otherwise there was no sign of activity. Inside he found crime-scene technician Erik Sohlman, who had also just arrived. One of the uniformed officers showed them to the area where the body had been discovered. Several members of the cleaning staff, looking upset, stood next to their carts as they talked to police. A woman with Asian features sat on a sofa, sobbing loudly.
    Knutas had a strangely surreal feeling as he passed through the foyer. This was the same place where less than twenty-four hours ago he had been drinking champagne toasts and mingling with hundreds of other festively clad guests. Now the scene was completely different. They walked through the deserted and littered salon on the ground floor until they came to a smaller lounge furnished with a few sofas and a bar. This part of the centre had been closed off during the Saturday-night celebration.
    Tucked away in a far corner of the room was a small lift used by employees. Inside on the floor lay the body, with the legs partially sticking out of the lift door. The dead man was wearing a silk shirt and black trousers. His hair was dark and combed