Right now, on a Friday night off-season, it was still doing very well. Bars, restaurants, and cafés conducted a brisk business. People walked up and down the sidewalks and there was plenty of car and bus traffic.
As the Chief Inspector slowed down to allow a group of pedestrians to cross up ahead, Harvath asked, “What more can you tell me about the accident?”
“Not much. It happened in the countryside about thirty kilometers outside of town. Based on the tire marks, we believe Mr. Lund was traveling in excess of 120 kilometers an hour. The speed limit in that area is only 70.
“Mr. Lund appeared to have lost control of his vehicle, whereupon the vehicle left the roadway, rolled, and hit a tree. He was pronounced dead at the scene.”
“Who reported the accident?” Harvath asked.
“A passing motorist saw taillights in the brush, stopped to investigate, and then called police.”
“Do you see a lot of vehicular fatalities on Gotland?”
Nyström shook his head. “They are very rare. But when they do happen, the victims are usually holiday-makers and alcohol is involved. Was Mr. Lund a drinker?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” replied Harvath.
“Any medications?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s okay,” said the Chief Inspector. “They will do a toxicology screen at the hospital.”
“Any evidence that Lund may have been forced off the road?”
The Swede thought about it for a moment. “Forced? Why do you ask? Are you aware of someone who wished him harm?”
Harvath shook his head. “Just wondering.”
“Perhaps he swerved to avoid an animal. Gotland is predominantly rural and roe deer are a real hazard throughout the island.”
“Was there any unusual damage to Lund’s vehicle? Anything that would suggest he came in contact with a deer, or anything else?”
“The car was very badly damaged. If there was such evidence, it would be incredibly difficult to ascertain. Have you much experience with automobile accidents, Mr. Harvath?”
“Some,” he replied. “Where is Lund’s car now?”
Nyström looked at the clock on his dashboard. “A wrecker was dispatched to retrieve it. It will be kept at the wrecking company’s lot while we finish the paperwork and file our initial findings. Sometimes, if a claim is filed, an insurance representative will come out from Stockholm. They may conduct their own investigation. When that’s complete, the car will be released.”
“And then?”
“In a case like this, where the vehicle is unsalvageable, it is sold for scrap. It will be loaded on the car ferry back to the mainland and disposed of there.”
“I’d like to see the vehicle myself. Would that be possible?” Harvath inquired.
“I suppose something could be arranged,” said Nyström. “But I must ask. What is your interest in viewing it? Are you looking for something? Something you think my team may have missed?”
“I’m sure your team did an excellent job. I only ask because my superior was quite fond of Mr. Lund. They were friends, as well as colleagues. He will be glad to know that I took an additional look.”
“You said you had some experience with automobile accidents. Were you a police officer previously?”
“In a prior career, I was a federal law enforcement officer.”
The Chief Inspector knew a thing or two about American law enforcement. Judging by the look of his passenger, he asked, “U.S. Marshals?”
“Secret Service,” Harvath replied. “Like I said, my superior will be happy just to know I took a look.”
“So this is a request, cop-to-cop, as you Americans say?”
Harvath nodded. “A professional courtesy. Cop-to-cop.”
Up ahead was a sign for the Visby Hospital. Nyström applied his turn signal and turned down a narrow residential street. Beyond, Harvath could already see the lights of the parking lot.
When they pulled in, the Chief Inspector found a space near the emergency room entrance and parked.
The hospital was much bigger than Harvath had expected. It was a sprawling three-story complex, built of orange brick, overlooking the ocean. The pale green of its multiple rooftops was echoed in the pale green of the window mullions. Harvath noticed a windsock, which told him there was a helipad nearby as well.
Entering the ER, they approached an intake desk, staffed by a pretty young nurse with spiky red hair who knew Nyström on sight. After a friendly back-and-forth, she laughed and waved the police officer and his guest past.
“Friend of yours?” Harvath asked as they walked down the hall.
“We’re in a local trail-running club together on Facebook,” the Swede replied. “She was teasing me about my recent time. She says that if they released criminals on the trails, maybe I would run faster.”
“And what did you say back that made her laugh?”
“I told her that I would definitely run faster if they released redheads.”
Harvath grinned. “Good line.” He had been right about the Chief Inspector being a runner.
Approaching a bank of elevators, Nyström reached out and pressed the down button. When an elevator arrived, they stepped inside and rode it to the basement.
As soon as the doors opened, Harvath got a blast of one of his least favorite smells. Morgues had a very distinct odor. No matter how far the actual room was from the elevators or a stairwell, the minute he arrived on the same floor, he knew it. There was no disguising the scent.
“I assume you are familiar with the identification process?” the Chief Inspector asked.
Harvath nodded. He’d been through the process before.
Walking into the morgue, Nyström paused briefly to chat with one of the technicians. Once the discussion was complete, he led them to an autopsy table at the end of the tiled room. Atop it was a black body bag.
The Chief Inspector looked at him. “Ready?”
Harvath nodded again.
Reaching out, the morgue technician zipped open the bag enough to reveal Lund’s head and upper torso.
The trauma was horrific and the corpse was in bad shape. But the disfigurement wasn’t so extensive as to render it unrecognizable.
“Is this Lars Lund?” Nyström asked?
“That’s him,” said Harvath.
The Chief Inspector nodded at the technician, who then zipped up the body bag.
“What kind of personal effects was he carrying with him?” Harvath continued.
Nyström nodded once more and the technician stepped away to a cabinet. When he returned, he was carrying a police evidence bag. Setting it on an adjacent counter, he unpacked the contents.
Harvath examined the items—wallet, watch, keys, reading glasses, money clip, and a small tin of mints. “That’s all?”
The technician nodded.
Harvath looked at Nyström. “Where’s his cell phone?”
“We didn’t find one.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?”
The Chief Inspector shrugged. “He may have been in such a hurry that he left without it. Or it might have been ejected from the vehicle. I’ll have a team search the area again in the morning.”
“Was there a briefcase or a laptop in the vehicle?”