Free He Who Fears the Wolf by Karin Fossum

He couldn't have wiped off the hoe without erasing her prints as well. We found lots of prints inside the house, several footprints in the blood on the front steps, and several in the hall and the kitchen. Might have been running shoes. The pattern on the sole is quite clear, and that ought to tell us what we need. The forensic technicians will make drawings of them. The murder took place in the hall. Halldis stood with her back to the front steps, and he came towards her from inside the house. Maybe she was the one originally holding the hoe, and he had to yank it out of her hands. He should have left behind some decent fingerprints. I don't really see why he had to kill her. If he had found her money, he could have just taken it and run away. She would never have caught up with him. I know Halldis, though. She was stubborn. I bet she stood in the doorway and refused to move. I can just picture it," he said softly. "A furious Halldis, full of righteous indignation."
    "The fact that he killed her could mean that he was someone she knew, someone she could have identified to the police."
    "Yes," Gurvin said thoughtfully. "And she definitely knew Errki. He had just escaped from the hospital, so he presumably didn't have any money."
    Skarre nodded.
    "But he wouldn't have found much there," the officer continued. "I doubt she kept large sums in the house. She lived alone, after all."
    "Yes, but in an isolated spot. Being robbed couldn't have been much of a worry for her. Has she ever been robbed before?"
    "No. And besides, she was tough. It wouldn't surprise me if she went after him with the hoe."
    "In that case he might have suffered an injury."
    "You've seen the photos of the body?"
    "Yes, I've had a look at them."
    "Not very pretty, is it?"
    Skarre felt weak for a moment at the memory of what had been presented to him early that morning. "Where does Errki Johrma's father live?"
    "He went back to the States."
    "What about his sister?"
    "She did too."
    "Do they have any contact with him?"
    "No. Not because they don't want to, but Errki refuses to see them."
    "Do you know why?"
    "He feels he's above them."
    "Is that right?"
    "He feels he's above everyone. He lives in his own world, and he has his own laws. In his universe he's the ruler. It's not easy to explain. You have to meet him to understand."
    "But surely he must feel some despair, if he's so ill?"
    "Despair?" Gurvin uttered the word as though the thought had never occurred to him. "If he does, he hides it well."
    Skarre nodded towards the road. "We've put out an APB on him. Do you want to go up there with me? I'd like to have a look at the house."
    Gurvin took his jacket from the back of his chair.
    "Let's take the Subaru," he said in a low voice. "The road up to Halldis's place is as steep as hell."

CHAPTER 6
    The woods surrounding the farm appeared denser than usual, as if the trees had drawn together out of respect for the woman, now gone, who had taken such good care of everything. And even though she had never allowed anything to clutter her garden, not tools or a wheelbarrow or clothes forgotten on the bench against the sunny wall, the place seemed already abandoned. It no longer breathed. The flowers under the kitchen window were already drooping; in less than one day their lives had become threatened by the blazing sun. The front steps had been rinsed, but a dark patch remained.
    Skarre turned to look at the woods. "What was the boy doing up here?"
    "Shooting crows with a bow and arrow."
    "Does he have permission to do that?"
    "Of course not. He does what he likes. He lives at Guttebakken."
    This last comment was intended to explain everything, and Skarre understood.
    "And he definitely knows who Errki is?"
    "Yes, he does. Errki's easy enough to recognise. I sympathise with the boy. First he finds Halldis dead. Then he catches sight of Errki in the woods. His lungs were practically bursting by the time he reached my office. He must have thought he would be the next