Teresa heard Gardini’s breath hitch in revulsion. He had just realized that this was no “ordinary” homicide; there was an element of psychosis in it, and perhaps something even more dangerous that Teresa hadn’t been able to identify. The usual motives weren’t going to apply here. The human mind wasn’t capable of nursing this kind of horror out of simple jealousy, revenge, or greed. The meaning of that effigy was far more complex. It demanded their attention because it revealed so much.

“In my view, that’s the single most disturbing element,” murmured the deputy prosecutor.

Teresa felt the same, though looking at it now she thought she could perhaps glimpse something more. She hadn’t yet been able to put her finger firmly on it; at the moment it was still just an indistinct trace beneath the surface that showed up intermittently and slipped out of reach every time she tried to give it a name.

“Something wrong?” the deputy prosecutor asked her.

She didn’t respond immediately, waiting for her impressions to take a more concrete shape. Finally, she shook her head and stayed silent. She didn’t want to muddle everyone else’s thoughts with the vague hunch that if it hadn’t been for the context in which they had found it, and all that blood on it, she would have said there was something childish—even playful—about the effigy.

Teresa studied the eyes, which were made out of berries.

“We should figure out where the killer got those from,” she said. “I didn’t see them anywhere else in the area; it might turn out to be an important clue.”

The prosecutor nodded his agreement.

“What could it mean?” he asked.

Teresa wasn’t sure yet, but she had a theory.

“It was important to him that they should be there,” she said. “If the effigy is a representation of the killer, it’s showing him looking at something.”

But looking at what? The dying victim? The village nearby?

During their inspection of the scene, Teresa had noticed a detail that had unsettled her: from the angle it faced, the effigy seemed to be looking straight at the bell tower of Travenì’s church.

“The absence of a mouth makes it look expressionless,” Gardini noted.

“That’s the killer’s way of masking his emotions,” she explained. “It’s impossible to tell what he might have felt in that moment: rage or fear, anguish or excitement.”

The deputy prosecutor let out a worried sigh.

“He left no clues about a possible motive,” he said quietly.

“He didn’t want to leave any,” Teresa pointed out. “I doubt it was an accidental omission. He prepared the scene meticulously; he must have fantasized about it at length. He left it exactly as he wanted us to find it. Think of those traps he set up. He’s a perfectionist.”