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he saw. Slowly it became clearer, and the thoughts swirling around in his head gradually formed a coherent image.
    The sight of the bloody horse’s head shocked him at first, but it didn’t take long before he understood exactly what the whole thing was about.

SUNDAY, JULY 25
    THE SUMMER HEAT made people slow their pace, and Knutas was forced to change shirts several times a day. His thoughts flowed like sluggish syrup, often straying far away. The chances of the investigative team finding a solution to this unusual case seemed more remote than ever.
    Lina and the kids had gone out to the country, but he couldn’t stand the idea of sitting there twiddling his thumbs.
    It hadn’t rained a single day since early June, but that didn’t make him any less irritable. He was in a wretched mood, and when the phone rang he barked an angry hello.
    “Hello, my name is Susanna Mellgren,” said the voice on the line.
    “Yes?”
    “My husband, Staffan Mellgren, is in charge of the excavation in Fröjel,” the woman explained.
    “Oh, right,” Knutas hurried to say. He hadn’t immediately made the connection.
    “He didn’t want me to call, but I felt that I had to.”
    “Yes?”
    “The thing is that yesterday evening we found a very odd thing outside our chicken coop.”
    “Is that right?”
    “It was a horse’s head stuck on a pole.”
    Knutas snapped to attention.
    “Someone put it there during the evening. Staffan found it when he came home from work.”
    “What did it look like?”
    “It was stuck on a really heavy wooden broomstick. Actually I don’t know what kind of pole it was, but on the very end someone had wedged a severed horse’s head. It was from a real horse.”
    “Where was this pole?”
    “We have an old barn that is partially used as a chicken coop. It was standing outside the door, leaning against the wall—in full view.”
    “When did this happen?”
    “Last night.”
    “And you didn’t call until now?”
    Knutas looked at his watch. It was two fifteen in the afternoon.
    “I’m sorry, but Staffan didn’t want to tell anyone. He said it would just upset the children for no reason. He didn’t want to make a big deal about the matter. In fact, it doesn’t seem to have bothered him at all. As if it wasn’t important. But I happen to think that it’s awfully disgusting , so I felt that I had to contact the police, regardless of what he said.”
    “It’s good that you called. Is the horse’s head still in the same place?”
    “No. Staffan drove a short distance away and threw it into a ditch. He didn’t want the children to see it. They don’t even know that anything happened.”
    “Do you know where?”
    “Yes, I actually went out there to have a look. I covered it with some grass and branches so no animals would destroy any evidence.”
    “We need to drive out there and look at it, of course. Right away.”
    “Okay. Staffan left this morning and said that he was going to be gone all day. He refused to tell me where he was going. I’d prefer it if he doesn’t find out that I called you.”
    “I’m afraid that’s probably impossible,” said Knutas. “We’re in the midst of investigating an earlier crime against a horse, as well as the case of the young woman who was murdered—the one who was a student in your husband’s course. There seem to be too many points of connection for us not to link these cases together. I hope you’ll understand.”
    “I guess so,” said Susanna Mellgren, sounding resigned. “But what does Staffan have to do with all this?”
    Knutas didn’t answer the question.

 
    Knutas, Erik Sohlman, and Karin Jacobsson all rode in the same car up to Lärbro.
    The farm was located a mile or two outside town. It consisted of a farmhouse, a smaller wooden building that appeared to be some kind of workshop, and a barn. About two dozen hens were strutting around, pecking at the yellowed summer grass.
    Susanna Mellgren opened the door at the first ring of the doorbell. A big woman with short black hair, she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Knutas thought her beautiful with those dark eyes and that olive complexion.
She can’t be a hundred percent Swedish
, he had time to think before she held out her hand and greeted him.
    “Could you show us where you found the pole with the horse’s head?” he asked.
    “Sure, it’s this way.”
    She led the way over to the barn. The hens clucked and flocked around her.
    “It was right there, next to