SOME MINUTES THAT feel like an eternity later, Yusuf hears the thunk of the latch from the metal gate and sees two uniformed officers step onto the property, looking vigilant. He recognizes the one in front as Koivuaho. Koivuaho advances at a slight forward lean, like an offensive lineman waiting for a play to begin.
“What’s the situation?” Koivuaho asks when he reaches Yusuf. The second officer has stayed back on the drive and is now warily approaching the garage.
“I’m not sure. But I have a bad feeling about this.” Yusuf rises to his feet. His calves ache from squatting so long on his toes, and the frigid wind has made his ears numb.
Koivuaho looks at the stone statue. “I can see why.”
“You only rang the buzzer at the gate earlier? You didn’t enter the property?” Yusuf says, and when Koivuaho nods, he continues: “Did you notice if the light was on upstairs?”
“No. You can’t even see the house from the street. Besides, it was still light out then—”
“OK.” Yusuf wipes his nose on the back of his hand and tells Koivuaho to follow him. The two of them trudge across the snow to the plowed area fronting the house.
“Someone shoveled the snow recently,” Koivuaho whispers.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Yusuf looks around and now spies another security camera over the door similar to the one he noticed at the gate. If there’s anyone home, they have some reason for not letting the police in. The junior officer is still at the garage, looking around.
“What should we do?” Koivuaho asks.
“I don’t know. A statue of Satan doesn’t give us cause to kick down the door.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Tell your buddy to wait out front here. Let’s go around back.”
YUSUF CRINGES AT the loud crunch the coarse snow makes after each step he takes. The facade of the house is pierced with numerous windows, but they’re dark and the curtains have been drawn across them. Finally they round the corner and enter the backyard. It’s much more modest than the apple orchard out front.
“Look,” Koivuaho whispers. “Holy hell.”
Another horned figure stands in the middle of the yard.
Yusuf takes a moment to consider the circumstances. They’ve trespassed on private property without cause to inspect a crime. On the other hand, the horned figures are a clear indication that the residents are involved in the case in one way or another. Considering everything that has happened, there’s zero doubt.
Yusuf turns toward the house and the large glass doors giving onto the back patio. He takes hold of his pistol and cautiously makes his way over. The blinds are open, but he has a hard time seeing inside. The sizable room is pitch-black. But there’s something odd about the glass doors; there’s a spiderweb-like pattern on the inside. It’s as if someone has tried to smash the glass. Yusuf presses his face to the glass, raises his hands to his temples. The white marble floor is dotted with black splotches that upon closer inspection are not flat but craggy three-dimensional objects. Of different shapes and sizes.
Rocks.
“Koivuaho!” Yusuf barks, and he hears the other man’s combat boots churning the snow as he hustles up. Yusuf remembers the list Rasmus drafted of the murders in Roger Koponen’s series of books. He would remember it in his sleep.
BOOK I
Woman, drowned
Woman, poisoned
Man, stoned to death
“Flashlight,” Yusuf says, hand held out like a dentist addressing his assistant.
Koivuaho pulls a black flashlight from his gear belt.
The powerful beam licks the dark room, the floor strewn with rocks. The sofa set in front of the fireplace. And the green armchair where most of the rocks seem to be concentrated. And now Yusuf catches a flash of something in the beam of light that, based on a hirsute glisten, could be the crown of someone’s head. It’s doming on the other side of the chair’s backrest.
“Bring in another patrol. And tools to get inside the house,” Yusuf whispers, lowering his hand to the door’s metal handle. It’s locked, and the panes are burglarproof, bulletproof glass. Yusuf comes to this conclusion based on the pattern the rock blows have left on the window’s interior.
Koivuaho grabs his radio.