Take off your shirt, Joona says to Frippe.
Frippe unbuttons his jacket and pulls off his T-shirt. On his chest they can see a light rose mark from the edge of the tub. Its curved like a smiling face.
Ill be damned, Petter says.
The Needle steps nearer to peer closely at the roots of the womans hair. He takes out a small pocket flashlight and aims it directly at the pale skin of her scalp.
I dont need a microscope to see how someone has held her head tight by using her hair.
He turns off the flashlight and drops it back into his pocket.
In other words Joona waits.
In other words, youre right, of course, says The Needle, and claps his hands.
Murder, Svanehjalm pronounces, sighing.
Impressive, remarks Frippe as he catches some black hair dye that has run down his cheek.
Thanks, says Joona, but he sounds distracted.
The Needle looks at him.
What now, Joona? he asks. What do you see?
Its not her, Joona says.
What?
Joona looks up at The Needle and then points to the body before them.
This woman is not Penelope Fernandez. This is someone else.
Joona meets the chief prosecutors eyes. This dead woman is not Penelope. Ive seen Penelopes drivers license and it doesnt match. Im absolutely sure.
But what-
Perhaps Penelope Fernandez is also dead, Joona says. We just havent found her yet.
14
Penelope tries to breathe slowly, but the air tears at her throat. She slides down the cliff, ripping off sheets of moss as she squeezes between the branches of the spruce trees. She shakes with fright and creeps closer to the tree trunks, where the darkness of night is already gathering. As she thinks of Viola, she begins to whimper. Bjorn is ahead of her, already sitting perfectly still underneath the spruce trees, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Hes mumbling something over and over.
Theyve been running in panic, not looking, stumbling over objects, falling, getting up again, clambering over fallen trees. Theyve ripped open sores on their legs, their knees, their hands, but theyve let nothing stop them.
Penelope has no idea how close their pursuer might be, if hes caught sight of them again or even decided to give up and go away. Perhaps hes found a spot to wait them out. Theyre fleeing for their lives, but Penelope has no idea why.
Perhaps its all a mistake, she thinks. A horrible mistake.
She feels nauseous, feels like shes going to throw up, but swallows resolutely.
Oh God, oh God, she whispers to herself. We cant go on like this. We have to get help. Theyll find the boat soon and then theyll come looking for us-
Shhh! Bjorn shushes her, visibly, shockingly terrified.
Her hands tremble uncontrollably as images flash through her head. She blinks so that she wont have to see them, but the visions keep flashing back: Viola dead; eyes wide-open, face wet, sitting on the bed, hair dripping in streams.
Penelope knows instinctively that the man on the beach, yelling out to Bjorn at sea, was the one who killed her sister. Shed reacted the instant shed understood. If she hadnt, theyd both be dead.
When they fled the boat, theyd carried nothing with them, not even a cell phone. Scrambling up the bank, Penelope had turned around only once to see the man in black tying the rubber boat to the pier.
Penelope and Bjorn had run, side by side, into the spruce forest, darting around trees and skirting outcroppings; Bjorns voice was a series of painful gasps as the soles of his naked feet tramped over sharp brush. And when hed seemed to slow down, Penelope had pulled him with her, knowing their pursuer was not far behind. All the while she could hear herself crying as she ran, in a voice shed never heard before.
A thick branch whacked her thigh and brought her to a stop. Her breath ripped at her. She moaned and with shaking hands pushed her way under low-hanging branches with Bjorn close beside her. Her legs throbbed. She kept going straight ahead. She heard Bjorn behind her and kept plunging deeper into the dark forest without turning around.
A thick branch whacked her thigh and brought her to a stop. Her breath ripped at her. She moaned and with shaking hands pushed her way under low-hanging branches with Bjorn close beside her. Her legs throbbed. She kept going straight ahead. She heard Bjorn behind her and kept plunging deeper into the dark forest without turning around.
From far outside herself, Penelope contemplated the fact that thoughts change when panic sets in. Fear is not constant. Now and then theres room for rational thought. Its like silencing a racket to discover a quiet space in your head, which gives you a clear overview of your situation. Then the noise returns and your thoughts race in circles until the only impetus is to run.
Penelope kept expecting to find people. There had to have been hundreds of people out and about on Orno Island that evening. The south end of the island is developed; there had to be people there. There had to be help.
For a moment, Penelope and Bjorn hid between tightly spaced spruce trees, but after only a few seconds, their fear overwhelmed them and they began to flee again. Even as she ran, Penelope could feel the presence of her pursuer. She thought she could hear his long, swift strides. He wouldnt stop. If they couldnt find help, he would catch up.