This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright @ 2003 by Leena Lehtolainen
Translation copyright © 2017 by Owen F. Witesman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Previously published as Veren vimma by Tammi in Finland in 2003. Translated from Finnish by Owen F. Witesman. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2017.
Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle
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ISBN-13: 9781542048743
ISBN-10: 1542048745
Cover design by Cyanotype Book Architects
CONTENTS
CAST OF CHARACTERS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
CAST OF CHARACTERS
THE LAW
Maria Kallio: Commander, Espoo Violent Crime Unit
Kaartamo: Assistant chief of police
Jyrki Taskinen: Director, Espoo Criminal Division
Heikki Autio: VCU detective
Ursula Honkanen: VCU detective
Pekka Koivu: VCU detective, Wang’s husband
Lähde: VCU detective
Lehtovuori: VCU detective
Ville Puupponen: VCU detective
Petri Puustjärvi: VCU detective
Anu Wang: VCU detective, Koivu’s wife
Jukka Airaksinen: Patrol officer
Haikala: Patrol officer
Makkonen: Patrol officer
Liisa Rasilainen: Patrol officer
Mira Saastamoinen: Patrol officer
Jarmo Alavirta: Traffic division, workplace safety officer
Hakulinen: Forensic technician
Hirvonen: Forensic technician
Hannu “Carcass” Kervinen: Medical examiner
Haimakainen: District attorney
THE SMEDS FAMILY
Heli Haapala: Sasha’s wife
Ronja: Smeds family dog
Albert Smeds: Rauha’s father
Alma Smeds: Rauha’s mother
Andreas Smeds: Sasha’s older brother
Rauha Smeds: Sasha’s mother
Sasha Smeds: Champion rally driver
Viktor Smeds: Sasha’s father
SUPPORTING CAST
Einstein: Maria and Antti’s cat (deceased)
Jaakko Halonen: Hunter
Annukka Hackman: Journalist, Atro Jääskeläinen’s wife
Jouni Jalonen: Graphic designer
Kirsti Jensen: Antti’s academic colleague
Atro Jääskeläinen: Publisher, Annukka Hackman’s husband
Sini Jääskeläinen: Atro’s daughter
Antti Sarkela: Maria’s husband
Iida Sarkela: Maria’s daughter
Taneli Sarkela: Maria’s son
Jouko Suuronen: Sasha Smeds’s manager
Terttu Taskinen: Jyrki Taskinen’s wife
Jani Väinölä: Skinhead drug dealer
1
I’d never killed a person before, but now I had to. As I walked toward the shore, I heard Annukka splash into the water. She’d piled her things next to a stump just back from the lake. I knew there was a pistol in her purse, and I intended to use it.
Stealing toward the stump, I opened the purse. My hands were gloved, I was wearing a disposable raincoat, and I had plastic bags over my shoes. A hat covered my hair. I would leave no trace.
The pistol felt heavy as I took it out. I checked to make sure there were rounds in the magazine. It was full, but I hoped one shot would be enough.
Annukka swam quickly. Soon it would be dark, but I could still see her head bobbing on top of the water. Releasing the gun’s safety, I took aim. I heard only a muffled pop when the weapon fired. Annukka’s head jerked. Her body came to a stop and started rocking gently, kept afloat by the wet suit she was wearing. I waited a few minutes, then went for the keys and phone in her purse. I turned off the phone. After taking a roundabout way to her car, I began searching it. I didn’t find what I was looking for and had to leave empty-handed before the darkness grew too thick. My own car was half a mile away from Annukka’s. I didn’t run into anyone as I walked along the edge of the forest. When I reached the car, I drove through downtown Kirkkonummi to Eestinkylä. I didn’t see a single car along the way. I threw the pistol, the keys, and the phone off the Vårnäs Bridge into the river and took off the protective clothing I’d been wearing—I could get rid of that later.
When I arrived home, I finally began to shake.
2
That morning I would have preferred not to look in the mirror. There were bags under my eyes, and my hair was nothing but tangles. At the breakfast table, Iida didn’t want to eat her porridge and Taneli complained that his was too hot. He was right, of course. I’d woken up late, and their breakfast hadn’t had time to cool.
Outside it was sleeting again, so I packed the children’s rain gear in their backpacks. Iida wanted her winter boots instead of her rubber ones. In the end I gave in because otherwise I’d be late for my morning meeting. Antti wasn’t going to be home for another two days. The children screamed in the hallway, demonstrating the futility of my attempts to teach them how to behave in an apartment building. In the elevator, I mentally cursed whoever had just smoked in there. When we finally got to the car, the back window was still covered in ice, even though the heater had been running for two hours. Probably time for a new heater.
First I took Iida to her preschool group, then Taneli to the three-year-olds’ class in the basement of the day care. Taneli’s inside slippers were missing, even though I clearly remembered putting them in his cubby the previous afternoon. Finally we found them next to Roope’s slippers.
In the car again, I put on the Rehtorit, who sang “Cops Are Heroes,” but I didn’t feel the slightest bit like one. How could two weeks alone with my own children leave me so exhausted? Things had even been easy at work, mostly simple, routine cases. When Iida had come down with the flu the previous week, I’d been able to stay home with her without any problems.
But all the sleepless nights left my hands shaky. Whenever Antti was away I had a hard time falling asleep. I watched tearjerker movies, listened to music with my headphones on, and drank too much whiskey. Whenever I was alone my thoughts raced, and I had to flee into imaginary worlds and ragged harmonies.
Inside the station garage I pulled into my reserved spot. Next to me was my boss, Jyrki Taskinen’s, Saab, clean and shining in spite of all the sleet. I just had time to drop off my jacket in my office and grab a cup of coffee before the meeting. My subordinates were already waiting.
Ursula was giggling with Puupponen, and Puustjärvi was dozing. The others were awake but quiet. There was no sign of Koivu. I sipped some coffee before starting.
“Good morning. Where’s Koivu?”
“He’s with a client. He’l
l come when he can,” Autio said.
All of our cases were being handled, and none of them was difficult. They were just straightforward pretrial investigations that we’d be able to send to the prosecutor in no time. Rapes, assaults, one knifing, some domestic violence. That was our world.
Flags were flying all over the city since it was Finnish-Swedish Heritage Day. Puupponen, always a paragon of political correctness, suggested the flags should be flown at half-mast. The office Christmas party season had started over the weekend, which meant a rise in fights in taxi lines and attempted rapes. The number of incidents per day would only increase until it peaked on the holiday itself.
Our unit’s party was scheduled for a week from Friday with the rest of the Criminal Division. I was looking forward to dancing with Taskinen.
With the meeting well underway, Koivu appeared at the door, cleaning his glasses. He didn’t look very chipper either. His three-month-old was still keeping him up with colic, and there was no end in sight. A couple of times I’d found him sleeping in the break room in the middle of the day.
“What kept you?” I asked. “Was it something important?”
“This guy Atro Jääskeläinen’s wife, Annukka Hackman, has been missing since Tuesday afternoon. He’s frantic.”
“He should be grateful,” muttered Lähde, who, based on his stories, was married to the worst nag and tyrant in the world.
“Well, he isn’t. He can’t reach her cell phone, and none of their friends or relatives know anything. He wants us to try to ping her phone to see if it shows where she is.”
The name Annukka Hackman sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Is the wife the faithful type?” Ursula asked.
“I tried to ask, but the husband just got more agitated.”
Lähde snorted. “His old lady’ll come back when her lover runs out of ammo,” he said, then we moved on to the next case.
Later that morning, when I got tired of filling out overtime reports and started thinking about lunch, a message flashed on my computer screen notifying me of a new case. All I had time to do was glance at it and see the word “body” before Puustjärvi walked in, looking red in the face.
“Some hunters shot a lady in Lake Humaljärvi thinking she was a moose!”
“Holy . . . Were they drunk? And where is Lake Humaljärvi? Somewhere in Kirkkonummi?”
“Yep.”
“OK, you go since you know the area and take Koivu with you.”
“Got it,” Puustjärvi said obediently, and I almost thought he was going to salute. “I’ll have to drop everything else.”
Nodding, I started reprioritizing cases in my mind. The minor assaults would have to wait. Puustjärvi left the door open behind him. I turned and looked out the window. The sleet had stopped, but the sky was dark gray and a north wind was keeping the flags flapping horizontally.
I imagined how the frigid wind would feel on my cheeks, and the thought was suddenly enticing. Standing up from my desk, I grabbed my coat from the closet and switched shoes. In the hallway, Puustjärvi was telling Koivu about the discovery of the body, and Ursula and Puupponen came out to listen too. Apparently the woman had been swimming when the bullet hit her in the head.
“Do we have an ID on the victim?” I asked.
“No. She’s blond, but there isn’t much left of the bottom half of her face. And supposedly the hunters were all sober.”
“Let’s get going then,” I said to Koivu and Puustjärvi.
“You’re coming too?” Koivu asked. Ever since returning from maternity leave, I’d stayed strictly behind my desk. “You feeling the need to read some careless hunters the riot act?”
“No, I just want a break from my desk,” I said. I hadn’t been out jogging for ten days, and I was in serious need of fresh air.
“And slogging through a wet forest seems like the best way to get that?” Koivu asked.
“Koivu, you can kiss my . . .” I said happily, suddenly glad I would get some time in the field with him. Ursula gave us a strange look. After she’d been working with us for a couple of weeks, she’d asked Puupponen whether Koivu and I were a thing. Puupponen had laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool in the break room. He knew Koivu was like a cross between a close friend and a little brother to me.
“How did they manage to think a woman was a moose?” Puustjärvi asked as we were turning off the Ring II Beltway onto the West Highway. We were letting him drive because we weren’t in a hurry. Puustjärvi was always conscientious about following the speed limit.
“They drove a moose into the lake and were trying to shoot it. Someone hit the woman instead,” Koivu said, a yawn nearly stifling his speech.
“So the woman and the moose were in the same lake? Hard to believe. Was the woman downwind?”
“Am I a cop or a weatherman?” Koivu asked.
“And what kind of a crazy person goes swimming in November? Lake Humaljärvi doesn’t even have a good beach, just bushes everywhere,” Puustjärvi said. “Maybe it was suicide. Maybe she got in the line of fire on purpose.”
I thought of the hunter who’d unintentionally killed this woman. I’d met people in similar situations before: a truck driver who had a drunk walk in front of him, train engineers who’d noticed a person on the tracks too late, a father who’d left his one-year-old alone in the bathtub just for a second. For a moment I regretted not staying behind my desk.
The sky was clearing, but the sleet melted slowly. The weather changed on a daily basis, and apparently the freezing temperatures were taking today off. We had to leave the car a good distance from the path that led to the lake because the narrow road was already backed up with the vehicles belonging to the hunters, Forensics, and the Kirkkonummi Police. I pulled on a pair of rubber boots for the hike.
Near the shore the trail became difficult where heavy forestry machinery had torn deep ruts in the ground. I started to get out of breath. I hadn’t quite managed to regain my previous fitness level since Taneli’s birth. By the time we reached the shoreline, sweat was running down my back. A pantsuit and a leather jacket were poor outdoor clothing.
The body was covered with plastic. The hunters had pulled it out of the water and desperately searched for a pulse, to no avail. I nodded to Hirvonen from Forensics and introduced myself to the officer from Kirkkonummi who was in charge of the situation. Then I forced myself to look under the plastic. The woman had curly blond hair and was wearing a black wet suit. She lay on her stomach, and the bullet had pierced the back of her head. I didn’t have any interest in seeing what it had done to the bottom half of her face on its way out.
“She wasn’t shot today,” Hirvonen said. “Look. She’s stiff, and see these blotches on the side of her forehead? There’s probably more of that under the wet suit. The water washed away most of the blood and brain matter. She’s been in the water for hours, maybe all night.”
“And that isn’t a wound from a moose rifle,” Koivu and I said at the same time. “That weapon was something smaller caliber,” I added.
“Was someone trying to shoot a moose with a pistol?” Puustjärvi asked in confusion.
“My guess is we’re looking at a twenty-two, either pistol or rifle. The bullet came out through the jaw. Probably no point dragging the lake for it, since bullets that small usually disintegrate,” Hirvonen said with a sigh.
“We’ll see what other leads we can find,” I said and turned away for a moment. I felt impossibly tired and full of adrenaline all at the same time. This accidental shooting was turning into a homicide. I hadn’t solved a case like this in more than three years.
“Has any identification turned up?” I asked.
“No, or any clothes either, although I doubt she came out here in the forest in nothing but a wet suit.”
“We’re looking right now,” one of the Kirkkonummi cops said.
“Koivu, what was the description of that missing person you were talking about? Mrs. Hackman.”
“Blond, average height, thin.”
That fit the victim in front of us, but it didn’t prove anything yet. We all stood where we were, mindful not to trample any tracks. Of course it would have been better if the hunters had left the woman in the water. Now it was hard to say which side of the lake she’d been shot from. The wet suit was buoyant, so the body could have drifted on the water for who knows how long. We’d have to find out what the wind direction had been during the night. I took out the notebook I always carried, even though I rarely interviewed anyone anymore. I started making notes about everything that needed to be done. My sweat had dried, and a chill ran through me. I asked Koivu to organize interviewing the hunters. They’d be able to show us where the body had been floating. Puustjärvi could take care of getting the forensic investigation started. In all likelihood, the hunters and police had already unwittingly fouled the tracks. We would still find something, though; we always did.
I didn’t have to wait long before Koivu came back accompanied by a shortish man with wet hair who was shivering so hard with cold that I had a hard time understanding him. At least I made out the name Jaakko Halonen. I wondered whether interviewing him made any sense, because despite his claim that he was fine, I could see the symptoms of shock.
“We trapped a bull moose thinking it wouldn’t go in the lake, but it did. I think a couple of us took shots, but none of us hit it. We heard it climbing up the bank on the other side. I was looking for it with my binoculars when I saw her . . .” Halonen swallowed. “She was floating near this side. An old hunter like me knows a body when he sees one. Penttilä suggested getting a boat, but I went into the water myself. I had to go see if we could still help her. I’m sure your investigators will be able to tell which one of us . . .”
“How close to the shore was the body floating?” I asked.
“Less than ten meters, and she was light . . .” Halonen began shaking harder.
“Thank you. That’ll be enough for now. Don’t worry about who’s to blame. She wasn’t shot with a hunting rifle. Thank you for pulling the body out of the water.” There was little chance he’d intended to interfere with the evidence. Still we’d have to check for any possible connections between Halonen and the body.
Below the Surface Page 1