She thought of the effigy made out of the first victim’s clothes, with berries for eyes. Teresa understood now why it had been facing the village: it had been an act of condemnation. Andreas saw Travenì as a threat. It is you, he was saying, it is you who are invading my territory.

The village was the catalyst for his murderous rage.

A small latched door led to a second room that was not much larger than a closet. Teresa kneeled to take a closer look. It was empty and windowless, with only a gap between the boards allowing a glimpse of the dark green of the woods. The walls were covered in markings etched into the wood, stylized depictions of animals, plants, and human figures. When she slid forward on her knees to study them properly, she noticed that one of the boards could be lifted. It was a passage to the outside world. She looked around. The untouched emptiness of that room seemed strange to her; Andreas hadn’t let himself contaminate it with the mayhem that had encroached upon the rest of the shelter. There was something sacred about that emptiness.

She emerged from the alcove and continued with her search. In a corner of the main room, there was a table blackened by flames. The walls and the ceiling also bore the traces of a fire. There were a number of books: some had been devoured by the flames and reduced to little more than cinders; others had only burned partway, as if someone had arrived just in time to rescue them.

Teresa put on a pair of gloves and began leafing through them. She was surprised to find a notebook with some basic writing exercises. The marks in it—probably letters—had been traced by an unpracticed hand. But there were only a handful of pages like this, the rest of the notebook was untouched. Sifting through the other books, she realized they were basic literacy manuals.

A slim volume fell to the floor. Teresa picked it up and saw that it was a collection of poetry. A leaf from an oak tree slipped through the pages. It wasn’t completely dry yet.

Had someone taught Andreas how to read and write? Had they spoken to him? Could it have been Wallner?

Teresa noticed Marini pausing at the threshold to another room and she could tell from his expression that whatever had caught the squad’s attention was in there.

It took courage to take those last few steps. She forced her body to do it.

The sun was filtering through the gaps between the boards. A backlit figure sat on a chair at the end of the room.

Teresa could only make out its silhouette. Marini broke one of the boards with a kick, and light poured in.

Nobody moved a muscle. There was only a whorl of dust in the air, shimmering in the sun. Teresa sensed Knauss’s presence beside her.