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hadn’t had much chance to think about my impending motherhood. Maybe I was avoiding thinking about it.
    Relieved once we were out of Weissenberg’s house, I jumped behind the wheel of our police car and floored it out past the lush front yard. At the next hill I had to brake hard, though, because a group consisting of a dachshund, four little kids on foot, a double stroller packed full of babies and groceries, and one adult woman filled the road. The children were well trained, because they quickly moved almost into the gutter and stood staring at us. The smallest, a cute thing of indeterminate gender with golden curls and big round eyes excitedly yelled, “Beep, beep!”
    “Are all six of those hers?” I asked myself. Pihko wasn’t interested. The instant he’d climbed into the car he had pulled his law entrance exam prep book out of his bag. After deciding to go to the university, he had spent the whole previous winter taking courses at the community college. Apparently the fear of ending up as Ström’s subordinate was an incredible incentive to study hard. I interrupted his reading to explain what the stalking case was all about.
    As we drove back to the station, rain started pelting the windshield again. My stomach was growling. Food was now the first order of business.
    In the police station cafeteria, I wolfed down my bowl of Thursday pea soup and was just starting into a pancake when Ström showed up.
    “Eating for two, are we, Kallio?”
    “That’s real original, Ström. Why don’t you have a seat, though, since you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about those child-molestation cases.”
    “Oh, you thought of that too?”
    “No, but Taskinen told me you suspect the Noora Nieminen murder could be the same perp. Tell me a little about the cases. How old were the girls?”
    “Eight to eleven.”
    “So kids? Who looked like little girls, not teenagers?”
    “Right.”
    “What happened to them?”
    Ström grimaced. Picking up a toothpick off the table, he started digging at his cuticles. “Two of the girls were forced to perform oral sex. He groped three others. Threatened them with a knife.”
    Suddenly I didn’t feel like finishing my food. I pushed my plate aside.
    “Noora’s murder doesn’t fit the profile at all. I think the suggestion the two cases have some sort of connection is a pretty big stretch.”
    “Yeah, because you don’t want me getting involved in your case! A star athlete gets murdered—this is your big chance to get into the tabloids! And don’t even try denying it, Kallio. I can see right through you, even if you are so fat.” Ström stood up with a bang of his chair and went out for a smoke.
    I didn’t have the energy to worry about Ström, so I just cleared my tray. I threw two pieces of xylitol gum in my mouth as I headed off to the archives to look up Vesku Teräsvuori’s file. The report had been written by Palo, who had died in the line of duty during the winter. Seeing his name still made me feel strange. It was pure chance that had led that psychopath to abduct him instead of me. The report was typical Palo, terse and to the point, only reporting the essentials of the case.
    Vesa “Vesku” Teräsvuori, whose profession was recorded as “karaoke king,” had fallen in love with Noora’s mother Hanna Nieminen two-and-a-half years earlier. Their relationship had lasted a few months, during which Hanna had moved in with Teräsvuori. However, after only a couple of months, Hanna had chosen her family and returned home.
    The harassment began a couple of months after Mrs. Nieminen left. Teräsvuori had apparently realized she wasn’t intending to come back. He started with phone calls, and when the Nieminens switched to an unlisted number, he moved on to calling Hanna Nieminen’s husband’s trucking company, where Hanna also worked. Of course the company couldn’t use an unlisted number without hurting business. Teräsvuori also started sending threatening