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full of himself that he thought I’d hide in my corner like a hurt lynx?
    Now I regretted deleting the threat from my voice mail. My typed version would carry no weight as evidence. Of course, I didn’t know what kind of police officer I’d be working with. People didn’t get into the National Bureau of Investigation because it was easy or because they had a friend there. In high school I had considered applying to the police academy, but given my history, I knew I wouldn’t be accepted.
    Getting my blood moving always helped me to think clearly. I put on my running pants and a sweat-wicking T-shirt but had to make do with regular sneakers. I also had my jump rope with me; it was lightweight and compact and could come in handy if I needed to tie someone up. First I checked the shed to see whether Hakkarainen had kept Uncle Jari’s old weights. Yup, still there, along with his own training contraption, a bench press of questionable safety. Uncle Jari used to go into the shed to lift weights, even if it was minus thirty outside. Now it was still warm, about fifty-nine Fahrenheit according to the thermometer. I jumped rope until I broke a sweat and then started to wrestle with the weights. First some light free weights, ten pounds per arm. I’ve known how to perform a perfect bicep curl since I was ten.
    Uncle Jari had competed on the regional level as a weight lifter, but his career ended because he was a lousy competitor. I hadn’t inherited that from him. Even in the army I had enjoyed showing off, sometimes carrying other people’s backpacks in addition to my own. At the Queens security academy, I had to prove I was the strongest woman, even if it meant I might get injured. I sometimes trained by giving a double-piggyback ride to two men weighing 170 pounds each, which had made Mike Virtue howl with laughter.
    He wouldn’t be laughing now if he’d heard what I had done. Most likely he would have asked me to turn in my certificate from the academy. My muscles started to ache. Even if I had been able to bench press 200 pounds, I still wouldn’t feel better about Anita.
    A noise startled me, but it was only a squirrel jumping from tree to tree. Frida had followed a squirrel to a tree a couple of times, and we’d done our best to convince her that such a small animal was not a substantial meal for an adult lynx. Eventually, Uncle Jari took to hunting hare without telling his hunting buddies. According to their code, it was all right to break the law, but a catch had to be shared. I remember a time when Frida had gnawed happily on the hind leg of an elk that Hakkarainen had poached. He had honestly thought we would eat the gristly meat. Maija was so upset with him for keeping the best cuts for himself that she brought us some ground meat as compensation, which was a treat. We didn’t use store-bought meat often and, when we did, it was usually meant for Frida. We didn’t need meat; living on a lake meant we could have as much fish as we wanted.
    I took a quick dip in the lake and marveled at the water pump in the sauna. I hadn’t thought much about my uncle’s fascination with asceticism until I reached adulthood, when it started feeling weird; until then, we’d gotten by just fine without electricity and running water. When I was in middle school, we did get a generator because Uncle Jari needed electricity to listen to his CDs. His prized musical possessions were his ABBA albums. He and his army buddies watched the Eurovision song contest when ABBA won, and he had fallen in love with the singer Frida. Yes, the lynx had been named after the most beautiful creature Uncle Jari had ever seen and I had no say in the matter, although it was hard for me to pronounce this foreign name.
    I got out of the lake and brewed a big pot of black tea, but even that didn’t clear my head. I still couldn’t recall what had happened in Moscow. I switched to my official phone number and called Chief Constable Laitio.
    “Hello,