THE CRYSTALLINE FREEZE has melted to gray slush, as if in empathy for the horrific events of the previous night.
Yusuf drives up the ramp onto the Eastern Expressway. Jessica gazes out at the construction site and the high-rise sprouting at its center, which upon completion is supposed to be the tallest residential building in Finland. Jessica remembers seeing summery illustrations of this so-called skyscraper, of a luminous white spire piercing the skies. In reality, the structure is a glum gray. Maybe it’s because of the weather; maybe the material simply looked better on the architects’ computer screens.
“Is everything OK with Erne?” Yusuf asks, turning the radio down.
“How do you mean?”
“He just seems somehow—”
“Stressed out?”
“Not just that. It seems like he isn’t doing too well.”
“Physically?”
“Yes,” Yusuf answers quickly.
Jessica watches him drive for a moment and then turns her gaze toward the road. Of course she knows what Yusuf is talking about. She knows Erne better than anyone else in the unit. She noticed a clear change in his demeanor a long time ago; he sounds and looks sick. But asking Erne about his health would be an even more pointless exercise than speculating about it. Even if he were on his last legs, her bullheaded Estonian boss would say he was in the prime of his life and accuse others of unnecessary fussing. “If anything was wrong with Erne, we’d learn about it in the obituary,” Jessica eventually says, wondering why she feels like she has to hide the fact that she’s also worried about him.
“I admire his attitude. Never complaining about anything. Even if—”
“Maybe Erne doesn’t have any cause for complaint. You don’t know for sure.” Jessica turns the radio up a notch and looks out the window. Warming temperatures have melted green patches in the white blanket covering Mustikkamaa Island. Jessica frowns.
“Yusuf?”
“Yes?”
“What would the murderer have done if the sea hadn’t frozen over yet?”
“Waited for a proper freeze.”
“But what if they wanted to time the crime to when Roger Koponen was on the other side of Finland and Maria was at home alone? According to Koponen, this was the only night he was gone in all of January and February.”
“I guess it’s pretty likely the sea would be frozen in mid-February,” Yusuf says, pulling off at the Kulosaari exit. “Besides, Roger Koponen was murdered too. If he had been at home, he probably would have been killed there instead. With his wife. Now he just happened to be off promoting his book, right?”
“Happened to be promoting his book? His book?” Jessica bites her lower lip. Koponen’s book is the key to everything. Nothing related to it is coincidence.
It can’t be.