NINA RUSKA CRUMPLES up the empty box of pastilles in her fist and drops the wadded paperboard in the trash. A moment earlier, she sat down at the laptop and two stand-alone monitors on her desk. The middle screen displays a list of video files. There is a total of forty-five of them: one for each CCTV camera. The task might have felt impossible, especially since no one knows who they’re supposed to be looking for. But the seven-minute time frame Jessica gave her is going to make things a lot easier. In addition, the location information provided by the phone’s Bluetooth-transmitted beacon signal and MAC offers precise coordinates of the device’s movements.
“Seven minutes,” Mikael says, pulling up a chair.
“Within that time frame, he received the video and uploaded it to YouTube.”
“How many cameras do we have left?”
“After narrowing it down, nine. What a pain in the ass. I have a strong suspicion the guy was standing on the metro platform. That’s why this feels so damn hopeless.”
“What do you mean?” Mikael asks, swirling a spoon around in his tea mug.
“The guy knows we’re using the CCTV cameras to look for someone holding a phone. So he goes somewhere there are shit tons of people standing around—”
“And just about everyone is glued to their phone.”
“Not just about. Every single one.” Nina opens one of the files with a click of her mouse. “Look. It’s depressing in so many ways. Even the people walking onto the platform with someone else are staring down at their hands.”
“Pretty dystopian sight, I admit.”
“So I’m sure the guy we’re looking for is visible in this footage. We just don’t know which one of them it is. There are at least a hundred people on that platform.”
“When did you get so pessimistic?” Mikael says, snatching the mouse out of Nina’s hand. “Besides, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make any sense?”
“You said the guy knows the phone’s movements can be traced. Even so, he turned it on in a place that has one of the highest concentrations of CCTV and security cameras in the country. What do you think that means?”
“That . . .” Nina sighs deeply and smiles. “That he wants to be seen.”
“Seen but not necessarily recognized,” Mikael adds with a wink.
Nina leans back in her chair and looks at Mikael. Years ago she fell for the unshakable self-confidence he exudes, even when it’s not justified. Maybe that’s why she didn’t dare approach him at first. She thought his nonchalance and coolness were a sign that he was satisfied being single, that he didn’t want anyone at his side—and even if he did, there was no way it would be a close colleague who sweats her ass off in judo five times a week. Then five months ago, Mikael finally made a move on her at the end of an exceptionally intense stint at work. They sat drinking at a bar until last call, discussing all sorts of things they had never exchanged a word about at work. And they came to the realization that there was chemistry. That there had been for a long time.
“So it’s some sort of sick game?” Nina says.
“Of course. It has been this whole time. The perp is taunting us. Arranges the bodies in a way that forces the entire unit to read mediocre fiction with a magnifying glass. Writes a message on the roof of a house. Talks to the principal investigator face-to-face at the scene of the crime. Uses the victim’s phone to upload a video to the Net, even though he knows we’ll trace it.” Mikael raises his mug to his lips.
Nina clicks open the next file. “That’s a disturbing thought.”
“What?”
“That we’re following the tracks the perp specifically wanted to leave for us. It’s like sticking your head into a mousetrap. Or your dick into a tank full of piranhas . . .”
“But right now it’s all we have. Besides, no matter how well drawn a treasure map is, the drawer may have made mistakes. No one’s perfect. And the perp doesn’t necessarily have a clue what the police are capable of these days.”
Nina smiles. “Are you sure about that?”
“No,” Mikael says after a long pause. “Maybe he’s on the National Police Board.”
“Lönnqvist? An evil white wizard?”
“The entire board?”
“Bingo!”
“There’s a real bunch of witches right there,” Mikael says, tentatively lowering his fingers to Nina’s thigh.
Nina discreetly swats at them. “You just focus on that video now.”