The Fire Witness

26

Mirja Zlatnek leaves the squad car and peers through the curtain of rain at the approaching car. She places one hand on her holstered gun as she walks toward it and motions for it to stop. Water runs over the road and puddles in the grass at the bottom of the ditch. Her own shadow cast by the rotating blue light behind her leaps around on the asphalt.

Mirja sees that the car is slowing down just as she hears a call come through on her radio. She stays on the road. It sounds as if the voices on the radio are coming from inside a can. There’s hiss and crackle, but she can tell what’s being said.

“There’s blood everywhere,” a voice says. Another body has been found at Birgittagården. A woman in her fifties.

The vehicle swings to the shoulder as it comes to a stop. Mirja Zlatnek walks over to the driver’s side. The vehicle is a Mazda pickup truck. The driver’s door opens and a huge man in a green hunting vest gets out. He has shoulder-length hair, a powerful nose, and narrow eyes. He’s smiling broadly.

“Are you the only person in the vehicle?” asks Mirja, wiping water from her face.

He nods and looks away toward the forest.

“Move aside,” she says as she reaches the vehicle.

The man takes a small step back and Mirja leans forward to look inside the truck’s cab. Her hair is soaked and water runs down her back. It’s hard to see anything through the windshield. A newspaper is spread out on the driver’s seat. She can tell he was sitting on it. She walks around and peers into the tiny backseat compartment. Nothing but a thermos and an old blanket.

There’s another call on her radio, but she can’t make out the words.

The huge man’s hunting vest is already turning dark green from the rain. She hears a scratching sound, something scraping against the metal. She turns to look at the man. He’s come closer, or perhaps she’s just imagining it, she’s no longer sure. He’s taking a good look at her, neck to knee, and his fleshy forehead wrinkles.

“Do you live around here?” she asks.

She rubs the mud off the license plate with her foot and writes down the number. Then she walks around the front of the vehicle.

“No,” he says slowly.

There’s a pink sports bag on the passenger seat. Mirja keeps going around the truck. There’s a tarp held down by bungee cords over the flatbed and something’s underneath it.

“Where are you headed?” asks Mirja.

The man doesn’t move but he follows her with his eyes. Suddenly she spots a trickle of blood running out from beneath the tarp in one of the grooves otherwise filled with mud and pine needles.

“What’s this?” she asks.

When he doesn’t answer, Mirja reaches over the side of the flatbed. It’s not easy to reach-she has to press against the wet truck. The man moves to the side. She can just reach the tarp with her fingertips, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the man. He’s licking his lips as she begins to pull the tarp away. She unsnaps the holster of her gun and then turns quickly to look at the flatbed, where she sees the slender hoof of a young deer, a fawn.

The man stops moving, but Mirja still puts her hand on her gun as she walks away from the pickup truck.

“Where’d you shoot the deer?”

“It was roadkill.”

“Did you mark the spot?”

He spits on the ground between his own feet.

“Please show me your driver’s license,” she says.

He doesn’t reply and shows no indication that he is going to comply.

“Your driver’s license,” she says again, and she can hear the insecurity in her voice.

“I’m through with you,” the man says and gets into his truck.

“It’s the law to report any animals which have been hit-”

The man is in the driver’s seat and slams the door. He starts the truck and drives around the squad car, even though two wheels dip into the ditch. As he swings back up onto the road, Mirja thinks that she should have inspected the vehicle more carefully. She should have removed the entire tarp and checked to see if anything else was underneath it.

She can hear a crow cawing from a perch in the treetops. Then she hears the noise of a vehicle coming up behind her. She whirls around with her pistol out, but she can’t see anything in the downpour.