Please, take my money. Its everything I have, she says. But Ill find more. Ill sell the house. Just find her.
Claudia, I cant take your money, he says quietly.
Please.
We are already doing everything we can.
Joona puts the envelope back in Claudias hands. She holds it away from her body. She murmurs that she will return home and wait next to the phone. Then she holds him back and tries to explain. I told her that she was no longer welcome in my home she wont call me.
You had an argument. Thats not the end of the world, Claudia.
But how could I ever have said such a thing? She hits her forehead with her fist. What kind of a person says that to her own child?
Sometimes words just slip out
Joonas voice dies away. He forces away fragments of memory that have been stirred up.
I cant stand it, she says quietly.
Joona takes Claudias hand in his and repeats that hes doing everything he can.
Of course you must get your daughter back, he whispers to her.
She nods, and they break apart to walk away in different directions. Joona hurries down Bergsgatan and squints at the sky as he heads to his car. Its sunny, but also hazy and still extremely humid. Last summer he would have been sitting at the hospital, holding his mothers hand. They spoke to each other in Finnish, as they usually did. He told her that theyd take a trip to Karelia as soon as she was feeling better. She had been born in a small Karelian village, one of the few not burned down by the Russians during the Second World War. His mother had replied that Joona ought to go to Karelia with someone special instead.
Joona buys a bottle of Pellegrino at Il Caffe and drinks it all before he climbs back into his overheated car. The steering wheel is hot to the touch and the seat almost burns his back. Instead of heading over to the Police Training Academy, he returns to Sankt Paulsgatan 3 and to Penelope Fernandezs apartment. He recalls the remarkable speed and precision of movement, as if the knife his assailant had used had come alive.
The entrance is cordoned off with blue-and-white police tape marked DO NOT CROSS and CRIME SCENE in bold letters.
Joona flashes his badge to the uniformed officer on duty, then shakes his hand. Theyve met before but never worked together.
Hot today.
Youre telling me, the officer replies.
How many technicians on the scene? Joona asks, nodding toward the stairwell.
One of our guys and three from Sapo, the officer answers cheerfully. Theyve trying to find DNA from the perp.
Theyre not going to find any, Joona says, almost to himself, as he starts up the stairs.
Standing in front of the apartment door on the fourth floor is Melker Janos, an older officer whom Joona remembers from his own training days as a stressed and unpleasant superior. At that time, Melker was rising in his career, but then came a bitter divorce and periodic alcohol abuse, which resulted in his step-by-step demotion until he landed back on patrol.
When he sees Joona, he greets him sourly and opens the door for him with an exaggeratedly servile gesture.
Thanks, Joona says. He doesnt wait for a response.
Tommy Kofoed is just inside the door, moving around hunched and morose. He doesnt even reach Joonas chest anymore, but when their eyes meet, Kofoeds face breaks into a wide grin.
Joona, great to see you. I thought they were sending you over to the Police Training Academy.
I took a wrong turn.
How wonderful!
Have you found anything?
Weve secured all the shoe prints in the hallway, Tommy replies.
Yes, theyll all match my shoes. Joona grins as they shake hands.
And the attackers, Kofoed protests. He was moving around in an awfully peculiar way, wasnt he?
Right.
There are mats all over, protecting the floor from evidence contamination. A camera has been set up on a tripod and the lens is focused on the floor. A strong lamp with an aluminum reflector lies in the corner, its cord wrapped around the base. The technicians are scanning for invisible shoe prints using raking light, a kind of light which shines parallel to the floor, then they lift the prints electrostatically. Theyve marked the intruders path from the kitchen through the hall.
Joona doubts they will connect these prints with his assailant. The man would have certainly destroyed any shoes, gloves, and clothes he was wearing. Hes probably burned them.
Tell me, how did he run, exactly? asks Kofoed as he points to the markings. There there across there and then nothing before here and here.
Youve missed a shoe print, Joona says with a small smile.
What the hell?
There. Joona points.
Where?
On the wall.
What the fuck!
A faint shoe print can be seen about seventy centimeters above the floor, outlined on the light gray wallpaper. Tommy Kofoed calls another technician over and asks him to take a gelatin print.
Can I walk on the floor now? Joona asks.
Sure. Just keep off the walls, a frustrated Kofoed replies.
24
In the kitchen, theres a man wearing jeans and a light brown blazer with leather patches on the elbows. Hes stroking his blond mustache, talking loudly and pointing at the microwave oven. As Joona walks inside, he observes a technician in a mask and protective gloves pack the misshapen spray can into a paper bag, wrapping the open end of the bag twice. Then he tapes the bag shut and writes on it.