The Fire Witness

66

The diver is a man in his fifties. He’s starting to put on a bit of weight, but he has wide shoulders and strong upper arms.

“The name’s Hasse Boman,” he says.

“We can’t close the sluice gates as there’s a flood risk,” Joona says.

“I understand the situation,” Hasse says, while he contemplates the unsettled, swirling water.

“There’s going to be a strong current,” Joona says.

“I know,” the diver says, and looks at Joona calmly.

“Can you handle it?” Joona asks.

“I was in mine removal in the KA1 unit… Can’t be worse than that,” Hasse says, and there’s a hint of a smile.

“Do you have nitrox in your cylinders?” asks Joona.

“Yes, indeed.”

“What the hell is that?” Gunnarsson asks, catching up to them.

“It’s air with extra oxygen,” Hasse says as he struggles into his vest.

“How long can you be down there?”

“Maybe two hours. Don’t worry.”

“I’m grateful you could come,” Joona says.

The diver shrugs. “My boy is at soccer camp in Denmark. I promised to go with him, but you know how it is. It’s just me and the boy, and I need the extra money.”

He shakes his head. Then he points at his diving mask and its digital camera. A cable runs from it along the lifeline and into a laptop.

“I always record my dives. You’ll see everything I’m seeing. We can even talk while I’m underwater.”

Another log thuds into the dam.

“Why are there logs in the water?” asks Joona.

Hasse is putting on his cylinders. “Who knows? Somebody probably dumped timber destroyed by bark beetles.”

A woman is heading toward them. Her face is worn and she’s wearing blue jeans, rubber boots, and an open down-filled coat. She is leaving the parking lot with a russet-colored German shepherd on a leash.

“And here’s a goddamn bloodhound,” Gunnarsson says, and shudders.

The dog handler, Sara Bengtsson, unclips the leash and says something in a low voice. The dog immediately sits down. She doesn’t look at it as she walks toward them. She knows it will do what she says.

“Good that you could come,” Joona says as he shakes her hand.

Sara Bengtsson briefly glances at him as she pulls her hand back. Then she feels for something in one of her pockets.

“I’m in charge here,” says Gunnarsson. “And I’m not fond of dogs-just so you know.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Sara says. She looks back at the dog.

“What’s its name?” Joona asks.

“Jackie.” Sara smiles.

“We’re going to send a diver down in a minute,” Joona says. “But it would be helpful if Jackie could mark the spot. Do you think she can?”

“Oh, yes,” Sara says, and kicks a stone into the water.

“There’s a lot of water and a strong current,” Gunnarsson warns.

“Last spring, she found a body at a depth of a hundred and eighty feet,” Sara replies, and turns red.

“Well, what the fuck are we waiting for then?” asks Gunnarsson, lighting a cigarette.

Sara Bengtsson ignores him. She looks over the black, glittering water. She stuffs her hands into her pockets before she says, in a soft voice, “Jackie.”

The dog leaves her spot immediately and walks up to her. Sara squats down and pats the dog on her neck and behind her ears. She talks encouragingly to the dog and tells her what they are looking for and then they start walking along the edge of the dam.

The dog is trained to recognize the smells of blood and the lungs of the recently dead. The search dogs are trained by rewarding correct identifications, but Sara knows that Jackie gets nervous and needs to be comforted afterward.

They walk past the place where Dante’s car seat was found. Sara steers the dog’s nose toward the water.

“I don’t believe in this crap.” Gunnarsson smiles. He throws the butt of his cigarette into the water.

Sara stops and gestures for them to halt as Jackie catches a scent. The dog stretches her nose out over the edge of the dam.

“What did you find?” asks Sara.

The dog sniffs, moves to the side, and then loses the scent and keeps walking.

“A bunch of hocus-pocus,” the diver mutters, and adjusts his vest.

Joona watches the dog trainer and her unusual red German shepherd. They are moving slowly along the railing over the open sluice gates where the current is strongest. Hair has loosened from Sara’s ponytail and is blowing in her face. The dog stops and whines, leans out, licks her nose, becomes agitated, and walks in a tight circle.

“Is there someone down there?” asks Sara quietly as she looks into the black water.

The dog does not want to stay there. She walks farther, to the electricity box, and sniffs there, then returns to the first spot and whines again.

“What is it?” Joona asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” the dog handler says. “She hasn’t marked a corpse, but she’s acting as if she’s found something.”

The dog barks and the woman squats next to her.

“What is it, Jackie?” she asks tenderly. “What is so strange?”

The dog wags her tail as Sara hugs her and tells her that she’s a good girl. Jackie whimpers again and then lies down, scratches behind her ear, and licks her nose.

“What are you doing, you little rascal?” Sara asks with a surprised smile.