The Fire Witness

69

Bubbles stream in front of the diver’s face while he reaches to brush away a tight mass of pine needles clinging to the grate. He’s standing on the lip above it, holding on tightly with one hand. Suddenly there’s an eye staring straight at him-and teeth, large teeth. In a huge body. Right in front of him, or so it seems. Closeness is an optical illusion of being underwater.

“Moose,” he reports, and backs away.

The enormous animal lies directly across the grate, but the throat is stuck between a tree branch and a broken oar.

“That’s what the dog reacted to,” Gunnarsson says.

“Shall I come up?” Hasse asks.

“Keep looking a little longer,” Joona replies.

“Farther down or more to the side?”

“What’s that right in front of you?” asks Joona.

“It looks like cloth.”

“Can you check it out?”

Hasse can feel the lactic acid in his arms and legs. He looks slowly at the mass of debris that has collected at the grate. He tries to peer beyond the black spruce logs and between the branches. Everything is shaking. He thinks he’ll buy a new PlayStation from the earnings from this dive. He’ll give it to his son as a surprise when he returns from camp.

“It’s just cardboard. From a box.”

Hasse tries to move the cardboard box aside but only rips it in half. The loose piece is caught by the current and sucked up to the grate.

“My strength is starting to give out. I’m coming up,” he says.

“What is that white thing?” asks Joona.

“Where?”

“In the direction you’re looking right now,” Joona says. “There was something among the leaves, down at the grate, just a bit farther down.”

“Maybe a plastic bag?” suggests the diver.

“I don’t think so,” says Joona.

“Come on up now,” Gunnarsson says. “We’ve found the moose, that’s what the bitch was reacting to.”

“A search-and-rescue dog can react to any dead thing, but not like she did,” Joona says. “I think she was reacting to more than just the moose.”

Hasse Boman climbs down just a bit farther and pulls away leaves and intertwined twigs. His muscles are shaking from the attempt. The strong current keeps pushing him forward. He has to fight it with one arm. His lifeline is vibrating.

“I don’t see anything,” he says, panting.

“Break it off,” says Gunnarsson.

“Shall I break it off?” asks Hasse.

“If you must,” says Joona.

“Not everyone is like you,” Gunnarsson hisses at Joona.

“What do you want me to do? Right now?” asks the diver.

“Go to the side,” Joona says.

A branch hits Hasse Boman on the neck but he keeps searching. He pulls away the reeds and bulrushes covering the lower corner of the grate. New waste keeps accumulating. He digs more quickly and then he sees it: a shiny white shoulder purse.

“Wait! Don’t touch it!” Joona says. “Go closer and shine your light on it.”

“Can you see it now?”

“Yes. It could be Vicky’s. Be careful how you bag it.”