“WHAT DO YOU think happened?” Erne says. He shuts the door. He and Jessica are alone in the room together; everyone else has headed off to get to work.
“My notebook was in my coat pocket this whole time,” Jessica says, her eyes nailed to the blue-and-white flag standing on Erne’s desk, which shivers almost imperceptibly. “Someone must have found it either in the ambulance or at the hospital.”
Erne leans against the door, hands on his hips, looking like he doesn’t know what to do.
“Yusuf picked up the coat from the nurses’ station. . . . My understanding was the ambulance drivers had dropped it off.”
“Your phone was in your coat pocket too. If someone got ahold of the notebook, they’ve also had access to it.”
“It’s protected with a code.”
“Still, I want you to talk to Micke. I’m such a klutz when it comes to these things, I don’t know how to determine if there are any risks involved in using the phone, or if you should switch it out and get a new one.”
“I don’t understand how the hell—”
“If someone got into your belongings, we’ll be able to see it on the hospital’s cameras. Rasse will look into it.”
“What do you mean, if? You see this, don’t you, goddamn it?” Jessica opens her notebook to the page emblazoned with the Latin words. She flips back and forth for the umpteenth time to make sure there isn’t any more writing. But the rest of the pages are pristine.
“All I’m saying is . . . ,” Erne says, rubbing his nose, “. . . it’s always possible someone got hold of it earlier. And that a couple of empty pages were left in between on purpose so you wouldn’t find the text until later.”
“I don’t know, Erne. I really don’t know. But right now I feel like I’m a pawn in a sick fucking game. Think about it: I’ve seen the murderer twice. Yesterday at the Koponens’ house, today on the ice. And now he left a message in my notebook.”
“That still doesn’t make this personal. You’re the principal investigator on the case. The messages are presumably meant for whichever detective happens to be in charge, not a woman named Jessica Niemi.” Erne slowly circles around the desk and takes a seat. Jessica surreptitiously eyes his deteriorating mien. Erne is sick, and Jessica knows it, despite his refusal to talk about it. Even with her.
“There’s more, Erne. We didn’t have time to tell you everything about the hospital visit yet. Laura Helminen had a shit fit when she saw me.” Jessica raises her gaze to Erne, who suddenly looks more alert.
“What do you mean?”
“The painting she saw in the basement—”
“What about it?”
“Helminen said it was a painting of me.”
Erne is about to say something, but frowns instead.
“She said she’s absolutely positive.”
“Laura Helminen was in a state of shock for understandable reasons—”
“But if you take into consideration everything else that has happened, it doesn’t seem that far-fetched anymore. I’m the target.”
“I see. So you’re a criminal mastermind who gets others to commit evil deeds?”
“Why else have those assholes hung a framed picture of me in the basement?”
Erne sighs; Jessica knows that nagging isn’t fair right now. The situation is equally confusing for all of them.
“They know, Erne. They know what I did.”
“What are you talking about?” Erne asks, brow furrowed, but then he understands. “No, Jessica. Now you’re being paranoid. We never have to think about that again. Or talk about it.”
“But—”
“A beautiful, black-haired woman. That’s how Yusuf said Helminen described the woman in the painting. Yes, the description applies to you. But it also applies to Maria Koponen, Lea Blomqvist, and Laura Helminen herself. And perhaps to thousands of other women in this city.” Erne manages to sound convincing. It’s what he does. Jessica discovered this years ago.
“Fine.” Jessica sighs and turns to leave.
“But even so,” Erne says as Jessica’s fingers grab hold of the door handle, “I want to try something.”
“What?” Jessica watches Erne rise from his chair and approach her slowly, hands behind his back. Now his face is grave.
“I want to test your theory.”
“How?”
“I want you to stay out of the field for a bit. At least until tomorrow.”
Jessica stares at the flag on Erne’s desk. Now it’s fluttering visibly: evidently the air-conditioning has come on. Erne’s suggestion is both a relief and enraging. He’s clearly afraid for her, which means she’s not the only one thinking the way she is. And that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
“Until tomorrow? So what am I supposed to? Go rock climbing?”
“Stay inside four walls. Keep your head cool. And the reins in your hands. You still have your phone and laptop.”
“So you want me to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Erne? Are you taking me off the case?”
“Of course not!” Erne snorts in amusement, then rolls his eyes the way bad liars do when they’re full of shit. But Erne is neither a bad liar nor a shit talker. “I’m not taking you off the case. Just the opposite. I’m giving your theory a chance.”
“You want to see if the perps follow my movements?”
“You’re curious too.”
“And what if I’m right?”
“If you’re right and the witch hunters want to catch your attention specifically, they’ll either stop murdering people or approach you one way or another.”
“So now I’m bait?”
“If you want to see it that way. Besides, it’s better to be bait than a target. You’re safe at home. I’ll have the Security Police bring in a surveillance van to Töölönkatu.”
Jessica eyes her superior probingly, as if simply by staring at him she’ll convince him to change his mind.
“I don’t know. This really sucks, Erne.”
“Keep working from home. We have so much manpower now that Yusuf will have no trouble handling the questioning without you. We’ll reevaluate things first thing in the morning,” Erne says. He looks as if he’s about to lower a hand to Jessica’s shoulder, but he knows her well enough to refrain. He rubs his knuckles instead. “You know this is the right call, Jessica.”
Jessica shakes her head, pushes the door open, and steps into the hallway.