“So he led us all the way to a specific point, but then decided to hide his true thoughts from us.”

Teresa nodded.

“I wonder if the absence of a nose might be some subconscious obfuscation,” she said. “A more sensual organ than the eyes, and closely connected to libido . . .”

“If that were the case, what would you think it means?”

Teresa rubbed at her eyes. They weren’t just asking her for an opinion; she was often expected to make daring predictions, to reveal intuitions that could eventually lead to a conviction. At worst—as in that moment—she was made to choose which path to take at a crossroads.

“Any inference would be premature,” she said.

But Gardini wouldn’t let it go.

“Just tell me what you’re thinking,” he insisted, speaking more forcefully now.

“I wouldn’t want to rule out any leads at this stage,” she replied, her tone unchanged, and her eyes elsewhere.

The deputy prosecutor leaned closer to her ear.

“It won’t happen,” he assured her. “We’ll investigate every possibility until you deem it necessary to narrow the scope.”

“I’m not a clairvoyant,” Teresa hissed, not wanting the rest of the room to hear her.

“Nobody’s suggesting that,” the chief of police cut in. “But you always get it right. Almost. That’s why we’re pushing you.”

Teresa sighed. They would never understand the burden their questions placed on her.

“I can only see a rough picture so far,” she said. “If it is indeed true that the suppression of the sense organs is not accidental, that would indicate a particularly repressed personality and elements of sexual deviance. But it’s too early to say for sure,” she reiterated.

The next slides showed details of the victim’s wristwatch: it was strapped to the branch that served as the effigy’s wrist, but it was the wrong way around, so the display faced the wood. Teresa had no idea whether that had any meaning.

“And the victim’s eyes?” the chief of police whispered. His fingers, which he had been wringing restlessly, were now interlocked in front of his greying mustache.

“We couldn’t find them,” she replied. “Maybe the birds got them. Or perhaps the killer kept them as a trophy. Their symbolic significance is considerable. Our eyes discover, observe, and measure the world,” she explained, motioning with her hands. “They look and they lust—perhaps after what’s forbidden? They say the eyes are windows to the soul; there must be some truth in that, given how often murderers cover their victims’ eyes so that they won’t feel judged, so that they won’t falter in their intent to kill.”

Gardini turned to look at her. Teresa could sense his uncertainty.

“Trophies? Symbols? We’re not dealing with a serial killer here,” he noted.

Teresa shrugged, her eyes fixed on the slide show.