Jarkko Sipila - Darling

He examined the ground for possible tracks or objects, but didn’t see anything out of place this deep in the woods. Closer to the road the ground was littered with junk and trash.

Suhonen came to the rock and circled a couple of feet around it. He saw the fallen tree branch and the blueberry patch next to it. This was the spot. At least the details checked out, and he knew the person who created the story had been here. Suhonen realized he was nervous.

He headed to the left and continued toward the runway. Then he turned around and approached the spot from the airport’s direction.

He could’ve used underground imaging technology so he wouldn’t need to dig. The police had used that in a few cases-once they searched for someone under a concrete bridge. The machine sent out a pulse that reflected back from the ground. But today Suhonen had only a shovel.

He remembered a case from Satakunta where an elderly woman had fallen into the river, and the police got a report of her body hanging on a tree branch just over the water. The bank was steep, and the junior officer climbed down first. By the time the sergeant scampered down, the body had vanished. The fifty-year-old sergeant was perplexed, and the junior officer confessed he had shoved the body back into the river. When the furious sergeant asked why, the younger man said he couldn’t handle seeing dead bodies. The river then carried the body into the next precinct.

Suhonen stopped six feet from the spot to examine it. Blueberries peeked through a thin layer of slushy snow that covered the patch. He didn’t notice anything strange-no signs of digging or dirt piles. The place looked like a forest where hardly anyone ever came.

For a minute he wondered if he should call in the Forensics guys, but he decided against it-he didn’t want to alert the boys for nothing, or he’d never stop hearing about the wasted treasure hunt. Putting on a pair of rubber gloves, he stepped closer. He squatted down and lifted a blueberry sprig. It was well rooted and the ground around it was firm.

Suhonen carefully pushed the shovel into the ground; it went in easily until it hit tree roots. He dumped a shovelful of dirt to the side and examined the pile, but didn’t see anything. The second dig was more forceful, followed by a third.

After thirty minutes Suhonen had dug about a foot and a half into the hard dirt mixed with pebbles and roots. He had run into tree roots at about six inches and had to continue digging to the side. The roots were thick enough that no one could have dug through it in the last couple of years.

The digging made him sweat, and he took off his leather jacket. He thought back to his time in the army digging trenches in Salpausselkӓ. That was easier and quicker; all they had to do was swing the shovel. Now, after each shovelful, he had to examine the hole that was getting deep enough to make his back feel the strain of squatting. He didn’t want to step in the hole. He wondered how deep he should dig. A little more, he decided. The imaging technology sure would’ve come in handy.

Suhonen pushed the shovel down carefully and felt something hard. He thought it was a root, but it gave way. He set the shovel down and leaned into the hole, carefully wiping the dirt away. He saw a piece of fabric that had originally been blue. Suhonen realized it was jeans.

He wanted to curse, but continued cautiously with his hand. The fabric had a hole in it and Suhonen pushed his finger through. As he felt something hard and then something soft, a stench of decomposing flesh hit him.

“Shit,” he said out loud. The lead was legitimate.

Suhonen stood up. He heard the roar of the airplanes again. He took a couple of steps back and breathed deeply. The smell of kerosene covered up the thin rotten stench.

He had found Maiju Rahkola.

SUNDAY, 12:30 P.M.

HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA

Lind sat in the drab interrogation room with Jorma Korpivaara, who hadn’t shaven or combed his hair. The attorney noticed the tired and apathetic look in his eyes. Korpivaara evaded her gaze.

“Why?” Lind asked. They had sat there for about ten minutes during which Korpivaara hadn’t said more than a few words.

He only shrugged.

“Talk to me,” Lind said, losing her patience.

“What would you like me to tell you?” Korpivaara asked tiredly, looking at Lind. “About the cell, the sleepless nights, or what it feels like when your head hurts so much no medicine will relieve the pain? Hell, I feel like it’s gonna explode.”

“I want you to tell me about this case.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is,” Lind said tersely, her tone resembling a wife’s reprimand.

“Nothing new about it. I killed the girl.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“The fingerprints,” Lind began, letting out a small laugh. “You knew full well that Laura’s coffeemaker wasn’t turned on using the switch, but by plugging it in.”

Korpivaara’s eyes lit up faintly. “Yeah, I knew that. At first I didn’t remember it, and by the time I did, it didn’t matter anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“I don’t understand, so please explain,” Lind said, leaning forward.

“How did you hear about that?” Korpivaara asked, now interested.

Lind hadn’t told Jorma yet about her visit to the other Nӓyttelijӓ Street apartment the night before. Now was the time.

“Sini Rentola-Lammi.”

“What about her?” Korpivaara asked, startled. “Shit…”

“Sini called me and told me you were at her place that morning.”

Korpivaara looked agonized. “You weren’t supposed to talk to her.”

“I wouldn’t have found her if she hadn’t called me. She wants to give you an alibi.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t you get it? She can get you out of this cell.”

“She’s full of shit. She’s lying,” Korpivaara said, waving his hand. “A load of shit.”

Lind was silent for a minute.

“Listen, Jorma. I believe Sini over you.”

“I already said it. At first I couldn’t remember, but when I did, I realized this was better for everyone.”

“Not for you. You’ll sit in prison for years, innocent.”

“Maybe five years. I can take it.”

“I think it’s wrong.”

Korpivaara looked Lind straight in the eye and said, “So was what your father did to me.”

“I know. I’m truly sorry, if that makes any difference.”

“You don’t have a clue.”

Lind wanted to cry. “But I want to help you-so you don’t get another shitty deal.”

“Why did you tell your old man we had sex?” Korpivaara asked, looking at Lind with piercing eyes. “We didn’t do anything.”

Lind buried her face in her hands. “I know. I’ve always regretted it. He pressured me and threatened to hit me if I didn’t tell him everything. So I told him what he wanted to hear… I’m…I’m so sorry,” Lind said, looking up. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Your old man called me and wanted to talk about our future. I rang the doorbell and he punched me in the face as soon as he opened the door. No warning. I couldn’t do anything. Please, Nea, don’t help me anymore,” Korpivaara said quietly. “I’m serving the sentence and that’s it. If you keep investigating, I’ll switch attorneys… Don’t pull Sini into this.”

Lind wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“Who killed Laura Vatanen?”

No answer.

* * *

Joutsamo held the phone to her ear, standing by the door of the VCU’s conference room. The two o’clock meeting was about to start.

“No, I don’t have time now… Later. Try to understand. I’m about to walk into a meeting… No, not your case… I really can’t listen right now. Call me tomorrow,” Joutsamo said and hung up. Attorney Lind was relentless, but Joutsamo really didn’t have time right now.