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The wind is making so much noise in the microphone that it’s almost impossible to hear the voice, but it’s clear that someone was walking across the railway bridge very recently.

The car stops and the headlights illuminate a steep rock face. Fredrik ends the call and stares blankly ahead of him.

‘What’s happening?’ Jasim asks.

‘Looks like he’s heading this way.’

‘What did they say about blood? Was there much blood?’

‘I didn’t hear.’

‘Let’s go and look,’ Jasim says, opening his door.

The blue lights play upon the snow-covered branches of the pine trees.

‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Fredrik says.

There’s no crust on the snow and Jasim sinks in up to his knees. He pulls out his torch and shines it towards the tracks. Fredrik is slipping on the verge, but keeps climbing.

‘What sort of animal has an extra arsehole in the middle of its back?’ Jasim asks.

‘I don’t know,’ Fredrik mutters.

There’s so much snow in the air that they can’t see the glow of their colleagues’ torches on the other side of the bridge.