Farnicki walked into the busy office, late. Wojcik had woken him with a call at a quarter to nine. The inspector hadn't sounded angry — amused if anything. Ivan hadn't hurried. He took his time getting out of bed and ready for work. The Agnes Gott case was solved; the hearing was set for next week, and the prosecutor was confident Karolina Wronski would face a long prison sentence, despite her expensive, high-powered legal team.
Oddly, it was a pleasant, sunny day. Farnicki could feel the air warming. Summer was finally on its way; the endless grey, rainy days were behind them.
Wojcik wasn't at his desk or anywhere in the office. It wasn't yet time for his daily afternoon nap in the car, so Ivan assumed an urgent call had taken him out.
Farnicki dropped into his chair and let his gaze drift across the room without really focusing. Then a small jolt ran through him. On his desk sat a small black cube. He snatched it up and studied it in his palm. Not the same one he had thrown at Helena's window, but close. Transparent engraving on the metal: RPD. He remembered the little cube he had brought from Wroclaw — WPD, an office novelty for holding memos. He had never used it, but when he left his old job, he had made sure to take it with him.
He looked up. Similar cubes sat on other desks. At that moment Wojcik's voice came from behind him.
"Don't you think it's odd I ordered these for the office? We don't really need them. Most will end up in someone's garage, plugging a hole. But after I found this one in the gutter on Liberation Street…" Wojcik placed another cube — identical except for the initials WPD — on Farnicki's desk. "…I thought we might make use of them."
Farnicki felt heat flood his face. That was his cube — the projectile.
"Sir, I can explain—"
"Oh, I'm sure you can. You were there that night, weren't you? It was you who threw this at Grom's window."
"Yes, sir. That was me." Farnicki's voice was low. "Helena Grom was my fiancée. Or had been. I met her in a police bar in Wroclaw. Apparently, I wasn't the only officer she fancied. She was sleeping with half the department. Everyone knew. No one told me. No one stopped me when I proposed. When I found out, I lost my mind. I stalked her. I beat the men she was with."
"Is that why you lost so much weight?"
"Yes, sir. For three months I lived in a fog. Because of my record they didn't sack me, but I became impossible to work with. I suspected everyone — even the inspector — of sleeping with her. It made me paranoid. I stopped eating, stopped training. All I could think about was Helena and the men she had been with. Then one day she vanished. I found out where she had moved and followed her."
Farnicki kept his eyes on the cube, unable to meet Wojcik's gaze. The inspector leaned against the shelf behind Farnicki's desk, studying him. Ivan felt those grey eyes scanning, reassessing.
"So, you never intended to work here?"
"No, sir. I came for her. It was a lucky coincidence you were looking for a detective sergeant. In Wroclaw they were desperate to be rid of me. They agreed to the transfer without hesitation."
To Farnicki's surprise, Wojcik gave a short chuckle.
"Do you want to stay?"
"I don't know, sir. I think I'll leave after the hearing next week."
"To do what? Stalk Helena Grom? In that case you'll be my next client — and this time I won't cover for you."
"Don't worry, sir. You won't have any trouble from me. I'll go back to Wroclaw," Farnicki muttered.
"You've got a week. Think about it. I liked working with you. But in the meantime, I insist you see our psychologist. I don't need a head case on the team." Wojcik smirked and walked to his desk.
Farnicki sat motionless, turning the black cube in his fingers. At first, he felt offended — he would rather have been sacked than sent to a shrink. But he realised that since arriving in Resovia he had felt better, physically, and mentally. He was working again, even enjoying it, despite his initial dislike of the inspector. The job had helped him forget Helena. Being away from his old life, in a new place, therapy might actually help.
He set the cube back on the desk and opened the drawer of unsolved cases.