The Fire Witness

70

The river moves inexorably toward the dam, bearing another large log. A branch is sticking up above the surface of the water. Gunnarsson can’t shift the lifeline in time and there’s a dull thud and some splashing. The digital connection to Hasse is lost.

“We’ve lost contact,” Joona says.

“He has to come up.”

“Pull on the line three times.”

“He’s not answering,” Gunnarsson says after pulling.

“Do it again. Use more strength,” Joona says.

Gunnarsson pulls three more times on the lifeline, and this time he gets an immediate response.

“He pulled twice,” Gunnarsson says.

“That means he’s coming up.”

“The line is getting slack. He’s on the way up.” Gunnarsson looks upstream. “There’s more timber coming.”

“He has to get up quickly,” Joona says.

Gunnarsson counts ten huge logs heading swiftly toward the dam. He climbs down the other side of the railing as Joona reels in the lifeline with his good arm.

“I see him.” Gunnarsson points at the blue wet suit moving like a flag in the current.

Joona pulls off the sling and grabs the boat hook from the ground as the first log hits the wall two meters away. He manages to keep the second log away. It hits the boat hook and dives beneath the first log. The two logs start rolling together.

Hasse Boman breaks the surface of the water. Gunnarsson leans over and holds out his hand.

“Come up! Come up!”

Hasse looks at him in surprise and grabs at the side of the dam. Joona climbs over the railing with the boat hook and keeps steering the timber away from him.

“Hurry up!” he yells.

A huge log with wet, black bark is approaching, almost hidden beneath the surface.

“Watch out!”

Joona steers the boat hook between the rolling timber and a few seconds later, the black log hits it, breaks the shaft, and changes direction. It misses Hasse’s head by mere inches and smashes into the dam, then it tumbles over and bangs Hasse in the back. One of its wet branches pushes him back underwater.

“Try to grab him!” yells Joona.

The log keeps rolling against the dam, wrapping the lifeline around its girth. Hasse is being dragged down. Bubbles break the surface. Hasse manages to pull out his knife and cut the lifeline. He kicks as hard as he can and grabs Gunnarsson’s hand.

Another log hits the black one, and just as three more logs loom close, Gunnarsson hauls Hasse out of the water. He lands on his knees and tries to stand, but his legs are shaking. Gunnarsson quickly frees him from his cylinders and Hasse sinks down to the ground. Joona takes the plastic bag from his trembling hands and helps Hasse out of his wet suit. He’s bruised and scrapes the length of his back have stained his sweaty T-shirt red. He’s in pain and cursing loudly.

“This isn’t exactly the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he says, panting.

“But you found something important,” Joona says.

He’s looking at the clear plastic bag where the purse is floating in scummy water along with a few yellow blades of grass. Joona holds it up to the sunlight. His fingers press on the plastic until he’s touching the purse.

“We’re looking for corpses and you’re happy with a damned purse.” Gunnarsson sighs.

Light through the plastic bag casts a gold shadow on Joona’s face. The purse has dark brown stains on it-blood.

“It’s bloody,” Joona says. “The dog must have smelled it as well as the moose. No wonder she didn’t know how to mark it.”

Joona turns the heavy bag over, and the purse bobs in the scummy water.