Night stood dark, moonless. The city slept, covered in shadows, and only rare lanterns broke the darkness with yellow spots of light. Akiyama sat in his office, bent over an old newspaper. A desk lamp burned on the table, casting a long shadow on the wall. Next to the newspaper stood a mug with cooled coffee, he poured it an hour ago, but never finished it. Outside the window it was quiet, only somewhere in the distance a dog barked, and the wind rustled dry leaves.
He was already about to close the office and drive home, when suddenly the door flew open with a crash. Itsuki burst into the room, short, in a long dark coat and an old hat pulled down over his eyes. He was breathing heavily, as if he had been running the whole way.
- Akiyama, he exhaled, quickly, get ready. They found a body.
Akiyama raised his head.
- Again something happened in our damned backwoods?
A dead silence hung.
- You say they found a body?
- On the outskirts. Hanging on a tree.
- Did the police at least arrive?
- Already there. Special forces, detectives, everyone. All around.
Akiyama sighed. Finishing the cooled coffee, he put the mug on the table.
- Let's go.
The road took twenty minutes. Itsuki drove the car in silence, only occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. Akiyama looked out the window at the flashing lanterns.
- What is known? He asked.
- A girl. Eighteen years old. Bob haircut, brown. They found a note under the tree.
- Did you read it?
- No. I waited for you.
Akiyama nodded. Itsuki knew his habits. He did not like when information was given in pieces. He liked to see everything at once, as a whole.
The car turned onto a dirt road. The trees became thicker, the headlights picked out trunks, branches, bushes from the darkness. Somewhere in the distance lights flickered, police cars, ambulance, special forces.
When they arrived, Akiyama got out of the car. A cold wind hit his face, smelling of damp earth and rotten leaves. He put on his coat, adjusted his collar and looked around.
The forest was dark, tall pines stretched to the sky, their crowns merging with the blackness. Somewhere an owl hooted. Someone from the police talked quietly, the voices sounded muffled, as if the forest did not want them to be heard.
A special forces officer approached him. A large man with a short haircut and a heavy gaze. He held an automatic rifle in his hand, but the barrel was pointed down.
- Akiyama-san? He asked.
- Yes.
- Special forces commander Uruma. We have cordoned off the area.
- What about the body?
- There, Uruma nodded towards the forest. Hanging on an old pine. Fifty meters from the road. A mushroom picker found it.
- A mushroom picker at night?
- He said he was looking for his dog.
Akiyama said nothing. He just walked in the direction Uruma had pointed. Itsuki followed. Behind them came the footsteps of several more people.
The forest became thicker. Dry branches crunched underfoot. Akiyama looked at the trees, at the shadows, at how the light of lanterns tore separate pieces of reality out of the darkness.
And here she is.
An old pine. A thick trunk covered with bark that peeled off in layers. On a branch, almost at the trunk itself, hung a rope. And on it, the body.
A girl. Young. Brown hair, short bob covering her face. Light dress. Barefoot.
Akiyama stopped a few meters away. He did not approach closer. He just looked.
Itsuki walked around the tree from the other side. He took off his hat, ran his hand over the rope, touched the bark with his fingers. Then he bent down, picked up a folded sheet of paper in a transparent bag from the ground.
- A note, he said.
- Read it, Akiyama replied.
Itsuki unfolded the sheet. He looked at it for a second. Then he smirked, briefly, without joy.
- As if a fool wrote it. Crooked letters, meaningless words. Nonsense, Akiyama.
- Show me.
Itsuki handed over the bag. Akiyama took it, brought it to the light. Read it. Frowned.
- She hanged herself.
- You think so?
- No, said Akiyama. I think she was murdered.
- Why?
- Look at her hands. No scratches. No signs of struggle. She did not try to remove the rope. If she wanted to live, she would have tried. But she did not try.
Itsuki nodded.
- Maybe they hung her already dead?
- Then the marks on the neck would be different. Peter, come here.
A police expert in gloves approached.
- Look.
- I see.
- What do you say?
The expert bent down, examined the girl's neck, the marks on the skin. Then he straightened up.
- No signs of struggle. Fingers undamaged. Most likely, she was killed before they hung her. Or she was unconscious.
- Or she agreed, said Akiyama.
- Agreed?
- Yes. Sometimes people agree to die. And then someone helps them.
Itsuki looked at him.
- You think she knew the killer?
- I think this is not the first case in this forest.
Uruma, standing nearby, heard this and came closer.
- Akiyama-san, you are right. Three weeks ago we found a guy twenty kilometers from here. Same manner. Hanging on a tree. No signs of struggle.
- And you did not connect these two cases?
- We connected them. But no evidence.
Akiyama looked at the forest.
- Evidence is always there. We are just powerless.
He walked away from the tree and got into the car. He opened a thermos and poured himself coffee. Hot, black, so hot it burned his throat. He looked out the window as special forces cordoned off the area, as experts collected samples, as Itsuki still stood by the tree, examining something.
Akiyama was not in a hurry. He knew that in such cases haste is the enemy.
About half an hour passed.
Itsuki approached the car, opened the door and sat next to him.
- The tree is interesting, he said.
- What is there?
- The rope is wound not like for suicides. Usually they make a simple knot. Here the knot is complex. A sailor's knot. And the branch on which she hung was broken. Not completely, but bent under the weight. If she had just hanged herself, the branch would have held. Here, no.
- So they hung her together?
- Or someone alone, but very strong. Or she weighed more than she seems.
Akiyama took a sip of coffee.
- Are you sure?
- More than sure. This is not suicide.
- Why else?
- Because I have seen how people are hanged, answered Itsuki. I saw it at twenty-two, when I worked in the homicide department. Back then I still thought the world was logical. That there is cause and effect. And then I saw a body hanging on a tree. Exactly like this one. And I understood: sometimes there is no logic. There are only facts. The facts say that she did not want to die.
Akiyama listened. Did not interrupt.
- Then I was younger, continued Itsuki. And stupider. I thought I could save everyone. That if I was a good enough detective, no one would die for real. And then I understood: people always die. And my job is not to save them. But just to find out how and why. And to tell their stories so that they do not disappear without a trace.
- You never told this before.
- There was no occasion.
- And why now?
- Because this girl is eighteen years old. She was killed, and no one will know who did it. If we do not do everything possible.
Itsuki fell silent. He looked at his hands.
- You know, Akiyama, once I was awarded an order. I was recognized as the best detective in Japan. Of the twenty-first century. It was presented to me personally. The president. I stood on stage, and everyone looked at me. I thought it would change something. That I could do more. That the world would become better. But nothing changed.
- And what did you feel?
- Emptiness. I stood with the order in my hands and understood that it meant nothing. Because the murders did not stop. They just became different. More cruel. More meaningless.
They fell silent.
Aoko came out of the forest. Short men's haircut, uniform, tired eyes. She approached the car and leaned on the door.
- Akiyama, she said, we found traces. Someone dragged her. Several meters. Then the traces break off.
- How?
- As if two carried her. Or she walked herself.
Itsuki turned to her.
- Aoko, did you see her feet? She is barefoot. But there is no dirt on her feet.
- What?
- Yes. No dirt, I say. If she had walked through the forest barefoot, her feet would be covered in dirt. But they are clean. She was brought here. Already dead.
- Then why the note?
- Don't be stupid please, for heaven's sake.
Akiyama finished his coffee and put down the mug.
- Everything matches, he said. Someone killed her. Brought her here. Hung her. Left a note. And left.
- But who?
- Only God knows.
He got out of the car. Approached the pine. Looked at the branch, at the rope, at the body. Then shifted his gaze to the forest.
- Uruma, he called.
The commander approached.
- Listening.
- An old man lives in this forest. Lop-eared. Toothless. Lisping. Do you know such a one?
Uruma hesitated with the answer.
- I know. He lives in an old lodge. Locals do not touch him. They say he knows everything that happens in these places.
- We will go to him.
- Akiyama-san, he does not like guests.
- I am not a guest. I am a policeman.
Uruma said nothing.
Itsuki approached the tree and touched the rope. Ran his fingers over the knot, over the bark, over the place where the rope touched the branch. He looked at it as if it could speak.
- What are you looking for? Akiyama asked.
- I am looking for an answer, said Itsuki. In every rope there is something that tells about who tied it. In every bark there is an imprint that cannot be erased. You just need to know how to see.
Akiyama came closer. Looked at the rope. It was ordinary, thick, hemp, not new, but not old either. The knot was tied neatly.
- Someone knows how to tie knots, said Akiyama.
- Yes. And not just knows how. He knows how to do it quickly.
- You think this is a professional?
- I think this is someone who has done this more than once.
Itsuki turned to Akiyama.
- We must find the one who knows how to tie knots. And the one who knows this forest. These are two different people.
- Or one, said Akiyama.
- Not quite one.
They stood in silence.
Akiyama looked at the tree and thought that Itsuki was right. The world is not logical. There are only facts in it. And sometimes the simplest facts are the most terrible.
He remembered how twenty years ago, when he was young and still believed in justice, he caught his first killer. He was a market trader, he had a family, children. He killed a man because he did not pay for a watermelon. For an ordinary watermelon. Akiyama still remembered this case. He sat in the office and looked at this trader. And he cried. Not from remorse. From fear. And then Akiyama understood: people kill not because they are evil. They kill because they simply do not care.
He looked at Itsuki.
- You know, he said, I also once thought that I could save everyone.
- And what?
- And nothing. I stopped thinking. I just do my job.
- And does it help?
- No, answered Akiyama. But it is the only thing I know how to do.
He fell silent. Looked at the forest. At the body that still hung on the tree. At the special forces, at the police, at all these people who came here to find the truth.
- I am tired, Itsuki, said Akiyama quietly. I do not understand this world. Violence is growing. It is becoming habitual. Funny. I do not have time to arrive on time. I do not have time to stop them. This case is too much for me. Like all the others. Honestly, I am barely making ends meet.
Itsuki looked at him.
- I know, he said. I am tired too. But we cannot stop. Because if we stop, they win.
- Who are they?
- Those who think that life is worth nothing.
Akiyama did not answer.
They stood in silence.
Aoko approached from the other side.
- We are finishing here, she said. The body is being sent to the morgue. Examination tomorrow.
- Good, answered Akiyama. We are going to the old man.
He got into the car. Itsuki, behind the wheel. Aoko in the back.
The car started moving, leaving behind the forest, the corpse and the night.
- Do you think he will help us? Aoko asked.
- No, answered Akiyama. But he is the only one who knows what is happening here.
- And if he does not say anything?
- He will say. Everyone talks. The question is only how much time we have.
He looked out the window at the dark trees.
Somewhere there, in the depths of the forest, the old man was waiting.
The road to the lodge took another fifteen minutes. The forest became thicker, the trees pressed closer to each other, and it seemed that they closed behind their backs, cutting off the way back.
The car stopped at an old, crooked fence. Behind it stood a small hut, low, with a caved-in roof and dark windows. A birch tree grew in front of the house, crooked and old.
Akiyama got out of the car first. Took a step, another. A dry branch crunched underfoot. Somewhere in the forest an owl hooted.
Itsuki and Aoko followed him. Aoko was silent, as agreed. She stood a little behind, arms crossed over her chest, and looked around. Itsuki adjusted his hat and approached the porch.
The door was ajar. From inside came the smell of old wood, dry grass, something spicy and bitter at the same time.
Itsuki knocked with his knuckles.
- Hello, he said quietly.
From inside came a cough. Then shuffling steps. The door opened wider, and the old man appeared on the threshold.
He was small, hunched, with thin gray hair sticking out in different directions. One ear was noticeably larger than the other, probably from that the nickname "Lop-eared". His mouth was sunken, almost no teeth left, "Toothless". And they called him "Lisping" because he spoke poorly, he could not pronounce "r" or "l".
The old man looked at them. For a long time. Intently. Then he grunted and shifted his gaze to Akiyama.
- Well, he said in a voice like the creak of an old door, go ahead. What happened again?
Akiyama stepped forward.
- They found a corpse, old man. In the forest. A girl, eighteen years old. She was hanging on a tree, on an old pine.
- And what?
- We think she was murdered.
- You think? The old man smirked. They think a lot, but know little. This is not the first corpse in this forest, guy.
- I know. They found another one three weeks ago.
- There. And you keep thinking.
Itsuki took a step closer.
- We want to know who is doing this.
The old man looked at him. Then at Aoko, who stood silently.
- And she, is she mute?
- She is listening, answered Akiyama.
- Smart girl.
The old man turned and went into the house. He did not look back, but left the door open. It was an invitation.
They entered.
Inside it was dark. Only one kerosene lamp burned on the table, picking out old chairs, wooden shelves with jars, dry herbs hanging in bunches under the ceiling from the darkness. It smelled the same as outside, only stronger.
The old man sat down at the table. With a gesture pointed to the free chairs.
- Sit down. Since you came.
They sat down. Akiyama opposite the old man. Itsuki, next to him. Aoko, at the edge, with her hands on her knees.
- We only have the rope, said Akiyama. And the note.
- Show me.
Akiyama took the bag with the note out of his pocket and handed it to the old man. He took it, brought it to the lamp, squinted.
- Hm, he said. Just like a child wrote.
- That's what we thought.
- What then?
- Nothing. We cannot understand what is written there.
- And you do not try, said the old man. That's not the point.
- Then what is?
The old man put the note on the table.
- Did you see the rope?
- I saw it.
- Did you see the knot?
- I saw it.
- And what do you say?
- A sailor's knot.
The old man grunted approvingly.
- At least one understands something. And the girl?
- Barefoot. Feet clean.
- There. That's the most important thing.
Itsuki frowned.
- Why?
- Because if she is barefoot but her feet are clean, it means she did not walk. She was brought. Already dead.
- So the killers…
- Don't rush, the old man interrupted. The killer could have been one. But such a knot is tied by two. Or the one who knows how to do it quickly. Do you know how to tie a sailor's knot?
- I know how.
- And so quickly?
Itsuki remained silent.
- Well something something, said the old man.
Aoko spoke for the first time.
- Grandpa, do you know who is doing this?
The old man looked at her. Then shifted his gaze to Akiyama and shook his head.
- I don't know, he said directly. I didn't see anything. I wasn't here at all yesterday evening. I went to the river, fishing. Took a tent, fishing rods, gathered for the whole night. Moored to that shore where it is quiet, set up the tent. Fell asleep there. Woke up only in the morning.
- So you didn't see how they dragged her into the forest? Itsuki asked.
- No. I didn't see her. I didn't see anyone at all yesterday.
Akiyama frowned.
- Then you cannot help us?
- No, answered the old man. I know this forest. And I know who comes here. But I didn't see what happened. I can only say what people usually do here.
- And what do they do?
- They come. They leave. Sometimes they scream. Sometimes they are silent. I don't meddle in other people's business. But I hear.
Itsuki sighed.
- Then we have nothing.
- There is the rope, said the old man. And the note. And you. That's enough to start.
Akiyama looked at the old man.
- Do you know who could have done this?
- I know who could, answered the old man. But knowing and proving are different things.
- Will you at least name the name?
- I can't. Because I didn't see. I can only say that in this forest there are people who know how to tie such knots. And who are not afraid of the darkness.
Akiyama exchanged glances with Itsuki.
- We must find them.
- Search, said the old man. But remember: in this forest everyone knows something. But no one knows everything.
He stood up. Approached the stove. Took out an old kettle.
- Will you have tea?
- Yes, said Akiyama.
- No, said Itsuki. We should go.
Akiyama nodded.
- Thank you, old man. We talked normally, we can end it here.
- Not for that, answered the old man. I didn't tell you anything. I just told what I know.
They headed for the door.
- Come again, said the old man when they were already leaving. But only during the day. I don't open at night.
They left the house. The night stood the same, dark, moonless, with wind that stirred the foliage.
Aoko got into the car and closed her eyes. Itsuki started the engine.
- He knows nothing, he said.
- Or doesn't want to say, answered Akiyama.
- Maybe he is just afraid.
- Maybe.
Akiyama looked out the window at the dark forest.
- But he said that in this forest there are the people we need. We need to find them, even if from under the ground.
- Oh fuck him, I'm tired, you need to you search Itsuki, I want to go home already. Said Akiyama in a tired voice.
The car started moving.
Behind their backs a light burned in the window of the old lodge. The old man watched them go.