Once again, Hugo Knauss had withheld information that would have been crucial to the investigation. When Teresa had first inquired about the three suspects, he had failed to mention that it was physically impossible for two of the three to be the killer; what she couldn’t figure out was whether his behavior was down to pure carelessness or if it was a worrying symptom of the obstructionism she could expect from that small mountain community. Either way, Teresa was no longer prepared to tolerate it.

Thirty-five-year-old Lusar’s physique had been honed by years of rock climbing and off-piste skiing. His body was wiry, chiselled by exertion, sweat, and mountain air. His curly, cinnamon-colored hair framed a squared face with blue eyes and a guarded expression. He did not seem scared.

The door to the room where he had been told to wait was ajar, and Teresa was watching him through the gap. No one had told him yet why he’d been detained, but she was sure he could guess.

He was an arsonist who had been spotted loitering outside the victim’s home. He had the hands of a climber, broad and lined with veins that hinted at their extraordinary strength. He seemed like the perfect suspect, yet Teresa was sure that his fingerprints would not match those they had found on Valent’s body—which had indeed turned out to be the same as those left on the walls of the Kravina home. That didn’t mean that he was innocent, only that he hadn’t been the one to physically kill the victim.

“Lead him out,” she told Marini.

He looked at her in surprise.

“Why?” he asked.

“Lead him out and take him into the room where Marta Valent is waiting. Then bring her to me, but make sure they see each other first.”

“I suppose an explanation would be too much to ask for?”

“If you still don’t get it, I’ll tell you a third time: lead him out.”

Marini finally obeyed while Teresa went into Hugo Knauss’s office with De Carli and Parisi. There was a monitor connected to a camera filming Valent’s widow as she paced back and forth, biting her fingernails. She must be worried that somebody—a man who had previously threatened her husband—had been trying to break into her home. Or perhaps she wasn’t worried about that at all.

The monitor showed the door being opened. Marini walked in, followed closely by Cristian Lusar. The woman’s face immediately became even more tense, almost frightened. She averted her gaze and lowered her eyes when Marini invited her to leave the room. She walked past Lusar without looking at him, her hands crossed over her chest as if guarding herself against something. Lusar stuffed his hands in his pockets and seemed rather nervous.

He doesn’t know where else to put them without giving himself away.