Jarkko Sipila - Nothing but the Truth

Joutsamo had then tried the front desk at the Kirkkonummi safe house, and what she heard from the guard nearly made her drop the phone. According to the log, Mari and Laura had left the safe house at 10:45 A.M. No reason was indicated. The guards had changed at noon, so the current one couldn’t tell her anything about what had happened.

Joutsamo had wondered why the police hadn’t been notified. According to the guard, they had no such protocol. The safe house was not a prison, so the guards couldn’t stop them from leaving. Joutsamo had acquired the morning watchman’s cellphone number, and after calling him, she had learned that Laura and Mari had simply walked out. Just the two of them. The guard hadn’t seen a car, taxi or any other vehicle on the cameras. Mari had been carrying a bag.

The watchman had noted that they appeared to be heading for downtown Kirkkonummi, just over two miles away. And the weather was good for a walk: sunny and just a few degrees below freezing. That’s where the trail ended, at least for now. If yesterday the case had seemed to have cooled down, now it was blazing hot again.

Tracking down Mari and Laura was now their first priority, but as such, the situation could certainly be worse. By all appearances, their departure had been voluntary, so they hadn’t been abducted. Takamäki and Joutsamo were most worried about the fact that neither of the Lehtonens had their cell phone on. Of course, it was possible that both batteries were dead, but that was unlikely.

Kulta had been sent to Kirkkonummi to try to determine their route and track down any leads. Where were they headed? To the store? The train station or further? Back to Helsinki?

Takamäki had analyzed the situation, and issuing a nationwide APB didn’t seem prudent. Instead, he had notified the Espoo PD, since Kirkkonummi was their jurisdiction. If the pair was spotted, the Helsinki VCU was to be notified.

Mari and Laura’s disappearance was not the only active front in the case. Joutsamo had already called Takamäki at around ten to fill him in on Jere Siikala’s call data. Two days prior, the phone number that the police had on file for him had been in contact with an unidentified prepaid phone. Takamäki had already obtained a warrant from the district court for the new number.

He had also obtained warrants for the cell towers in the vicinity of the Kaarela house, which had turned up three other prepaid SIM cards. There were also other active cell phones in the area that might belong to Guerrilla. Joutsamo had already looked into these other phone owners’ backgrounds, suspecting that Guerrilla, aware of police interest in prepaid numbers, might have registered a phone with a false name. According to Suhonen, mobiles registered to phony names were a hot commodity in many bars. The phone companies had promised fresh data by late afternoon.

“Anything new on Guerrilla?” asked Takamäki.

“Apparently still in the house. He was observed in the kitchen. Making toast,” said Joutsamo.

Takamäki laughed. “Suhonen must’ve found a pretty good spot if they can see into the kitchen. At least we’re getting regular updates.”

“Narcotics was asking how long they should keep it up if the guy’s not doing anything.”

“Hell. I’d say indefinitely…at least with the current situation.”

* * *

Mikko Kulta was driving along a dirt road leading away from the safe house. The road was familiar to him because he had just driven it in the other direction five minutes earlier. At the building, he had checked Mari and Laura’s room. Empty: the deserters had taken all of their belongings. He had also interviewed a Kurdish woman, who hadn’t known anything about the pair’s whereabouts.

Kulta had updated Joutsamo on his findings. The empty room changed his search tactics: no need to check ice cream parlors or coffee shops. The pair had jumped ship entirely, opting to tread water on their own. Joutsamo had sent a patrol to their home address and started hunting for close relatives. As the police didn’t know much about Lehtonens’ friends, they began searching for them, starting with Mari’s co-workers.

Kulta came upon a couple of houses on the side of the road, but decided to skip them. It was possible that neighbors had seen a woman and a girl, but more than likely the pair had continued on. Maybe somebody had given them a ride to Kirkkonummi. His first stops would be the Kirkkonummi train station and bus depot, and if the pair wasn’t there, then he’d search the cab stands. Of course, it was also possible that someone had been waiting to pick them up somewhere in town, but if that were the case, how in the hell would he ever know.

The drive to the train station took about five minutes. Kulta was playing a CD he been burned with some favorite hits. Blue Oyster Cult was playing now: “… don’t fear the reaper .” Advice Kulta wasn’t inclined to take. The case had already had its share of ominous overtones, and this latest stunt was not a positive development.

Kulta pulled his little Nissan into an angled spot at the Kirkkonummi train station.

He stepped out of the car, lit a cigarette and headed straight for the train schedule next to the main wooden building. Someone had spit on the glass in front of the departures display, but Kulta could still make out the text. He knew from his car’s odometer that the trip from the safe house to the station had been 2.1 miles. The Lehtonens had left the safe house at 10:45, and it would have taken them at least half an hour to walk there, more likely forty-five minutes. Thirty minutes seemed like a good number to Kulta.

All trains to Helsinki left on the hour and half hour, so the first possible train had left at 11:30 and the next at noon. Another train had left at 11:00, but the pair would have never made that without a ride. Even Kulta had spent almost ten minutes getting from the safe house to the platform.

For westbound trains, there had been an express to Turku at 10:35-impossible timewise-and next in line was a local at 12:03, followed by another express at 12:35.

Kulta was almost certain that if the Lehtonens had come to the station, they would have boarded a train to Helsinki. It seemed logical, especially since Kulta didn’t think they were going into hiding. They would have been safer at the safe house. Something else was behind this.

Kulta jotted down the departures, since Joutsamo would ask for them anyway. He walked through the crisp, clear air toward the main building, scanning for surveillance cameras. He found three, all appearing to be trained on the station frontage and the platform.

He reached the entrance to the station and pulled the handle. It didn’t budge. He pulled again before noticing a small sign that read, Closed Sat .

Can’t give up now, he thought. Especially since he’d have to explain everything to Joutsamo. She wouldn’t tolerate disappointments stemming from

lack of effort. There was no hiding it-she could smell indolence from a mile away.

Kulta considered his options. It’d be worth a call to ask about surveillance footage-maybe mentioning “Helsinki Homicide” would carry some weight. But who to call? The Espoo PD? They had jurisdiction here. Or the state railways? The whole case was beginning to irritate him. The surveillance videos were unquestionably the most promising idea. He dialed directory assistance, which connected him with the state-owned railway company. A recording informed him that offices were closed until Monday. For train schedules, he could call the premium-rate number. A call to the security company responsible for the train station ended in a voicemail box.

Just as Kulta hung up, his phone rang. “Yeah,” he answered.

“It’s Joutsamo,” said an irate voice on the other end. “What’s the status?”