Silence by Jan Costin Wagner

Sinikka’s jumping up and down on it. We gave it to her for her birthday; it was the only thing she’d told us she wanted.’
    Joentaa looked at the little trampoline for a while, then turned away. His eyes met Ketola’s. Ketola was standing perfectly still in the doorway; apart from the few usual greetings, he hadn’t said a word the whole time since they arrived. Joentaa saw that Ketola was sweating, and had the impression that it was painful for him to be there. Maybe memories of the past were coming back, of his first interview with Pia Lehtinen’s parents. Or perhaps it was something completely different, nothing to do with their presence here. Kimmo avoided Ketola’s glance and turned back to Vehkasalo, who was now standing beside him and looking around the room as if he were seeing it all for the first time.
    ‘You know, the crazy thing is …’ he said. He seemed to have lost the thread of what he was saying, but then went on, ‘The crazy thing is, I have this incredible … well, longing for Sinikka. It would be so wonderful if she was just back here sitting on her mattress. Now of all times I want to see her, just when I can’t, whereas yesterday it meant nothing to me … do you understand what I mean?’
    Thank you,’ said Joentaa. ‘We’ll be in touch when we have any news.’
    Vehkasalo stared at him, and nodded. ‘Right,’ he murmured.
    They went back to the living room. Ruth Vehkasalo was sitting in front of the TV set reading the news on teletext. One new item was the missing girl’s name. Sinikka V The report had moved yet further up in the headlines since yesterday evening and was now among the main subjects of home news. Kimmo wasn’t surprised; a child’s disappearance always made the front pages of the popular press, at least, and the mysterious connection in this case with an unsolved crime in the distant past increased public interest.
    Ruth Vehkasalo took her eyes off the screen only briefly when he and Ketola said goodbye.
    ‘Come back whenever you like,’ said Vehkasalo, holding Joentaa’s hand firmly. Joentaa nodded and went out into the sunlight with the still silent Ketola.
    Ketola walked fast, keeping a step ahead of Joentaa, and said a brief goodbye to him.’’ A good thing I’m retired. This thing really got to me just now.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Kimmo. He would have liked to pursue the subject, but he wasn’t sure how to begin, and Ketola was already on the way to his car, swaying slightly.
    ‘See you later,’ he called back before getting in.
    Kimmo Joentaa watched him drive off. He was still trying to make eye contact, but Ketola stared past him at the road.
    Sundström had left a message on his mobile. Kimmo felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation. Perhaps they’d found Sinikka Vehkasalo’s body. He closed his eyes and listened to Sundström’s voice, but it was only telling him about a team conference at two that afternoon.
    He put the mobile in his pocket and spent a little while looking at the pale green house in the sunlight.
    He saw Ruth Vehkasalo inside the window. She was just pulling the Venetian blinds down.
    3
    W hat monstrous energy, thought Timo Korvensuo. He couldn’t get the word out of his head.
    Energy. Everything consisted of energy.
    He was sitting in the shadow of the house, watching his children running around. They seemed indestructible, they ran and jumped and swam and laughed and called and shouted, and Timo Korvensuo had been watching them with a pleasantly hazy feeling, until at some point the word ‘energy’ entered his mind and wouldn’t go away, and his headache had come back.
    Energy, energy. Power, monstrous power, it had been stronger than he was. He had watched himself. A spectator of his own destruction. It was inevitable. Quietly, very lightly, struck down with indescribable featherweight force … and then he had gone to Naantali beach with a towel and his textbooks. Children’s mouths, children’s bodies, naked