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and goes past the pasture on the other side. If the perpetrator chose that route, and I’m convinced that he did, then he would have avoided being seen from the farms. He could have driven out to the pasture and back in peace and quiet, with no risk of being discovered. From the farms in Petesviken you can’t see if a car is driving along that path. We’ve checked. Right now we’re examining the tire tracks out there, but it’s difficult because the ground is so dry.”
    “Good,” said Knutas. “We’ll continue to interview the neighbors and anyone else in the area. Let’s hope we find out something. The perp must have had a car. He had to transport an axe and a knife and possibly other tools as well, along with the horse’s head.”
    “And he was probably covered with blood,” Sohlman added.
    “Maybe he took a dip and washed it off. The sea is so close, after all,” Jacobsson suggested.
    “Wouldn’t that be kind of reckless?” Wittberg gave her a dubious look. “Would he really go for a swim, with a very strong risk of being discovered? Even though the crime was committed after eleven, on these light summer nights people go out for a dip at all hours. Especially since it’s been so hot.”
    “On the other hand, the area is relatively isolated,” Knutas interjected. “There can’t be more than three or four families living on those farms and moving about, plus maybe a few people from the houses farther up the road. It’s not an area that anyone would just happen to stroll through. Well, we’re going to have to look more closely into the family background of the farmer. Either there’s a particular reason why it was Larsson’s horse that was killed, or else it was just by chance. We still have to investigate all possibilities.”
    “Do you think the guilty person is part of the family?” asked Jacobsson. “The wife taking revenge on the husband, or vice versa?”
    “That seems rather far-fetched,” said Knutas. “A person would have to be awfully sick to commit this type of crime. But we can’t rule it out. We’ve been surprised before. We need to talk to the farmer again. He’s unusually talkative, but we were there only a short time. I think someone needs to drive back out there. The girls who found the horse have to be interviewed as soon as possible.”
    “I can leave right now.” Wittberg was already getting to his feet.
    “I’ll go with you,” said Jacobsson. “If there isn’t anything else you need me to do?”
    “Go, both of you,” said Knutas. “I’ll stay here and deal with the press.”

 
    Martina Flochten rushed around the cramped room, grabbing up toiletries and a towel. She was going to take a quick shower and change her clothes. The students had the afternoon off from their excavating work, because an American archaeology professor was in Visby to give a lecture at the college. Martina was in a hurry for entirely different reasons, though, although her fellow students had no idea why.
    They were going to take advantage of the situation. Her longing for him was burning and urgent.
    She had suppressed all thought of the boyfriend she had back in the Netherlands. He kept calling her cell phone more and more often. The more she ignored her phone, the more persistent he became. One evening when she had left her phone behind in the room, he had called twenty-eight times. It was sick, and she found it embarrassing because her roommate, Eva, had been home that evening, lying in bed and trying to read. Martina planned to end the relationship when she got back home. She couldn’t bring herself to do it over the phone. That would be too wretched.
    Her father had also called. He was coming to Gotland the following week. He had business in Visby and was planning to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Maybe he was worried about her. Martina was close to her father, although she thought he could be rather overprotective. Then again, she certainly had given him reason to worry on numerous occasions. Martina was ambitious and a good student. She did well in school, but in her free time she never hesitated to go out partying, and there was no shortage of parties among the various student crowds at the university in Rotterdam. She had even tried drugs, but only the less serious kind.
    Martina’s interest in archaeology was sparked when she saw a TV program about an excavation in Peru. She was impressed by the archaeologists’ patient, systematic work, and by