Two minutes later

Two minutes later Wallender was on his way along the coast road. Peters and Norén were ahead of him in a patrol car, sirens blaring. Wallender shuddered as he saw the freezing breakers slamming onto the beach. He could see an ambulance in his rear-view mirror, and Martinsson in a second police car.
Mossby Strand was deserted. As he clambered out of his car, the icy wind met him head-on. The beach shop was boarded up, and the shutters were creaking and groaning in the wind. High up on the path that sloped down to the beach was a woman waving her arms about agitatedly, the dog beside her tugging at its lead. Wallander strode out, fearful as usual about what was in store for him- he would never be able to reconcile himself to the sight of dead bodies. Dead people were just like the living. Always different.
“Over there”, screeched the woman hysterically. Wallender looked in the direction she was pointing. A red life-raft was bobbing up and down at the water’s edge where it had become stuck among some rocks by the bathing jetty.
“Wait here.” Wallander told the woman. He scrambled down the slope and ran over the sand, then walked out along the jetty and looked down into the rubber boat. There were two men lying with their arms wrapped round each other, their faces ashen. He tried to capture what he saw in a mental photograph. His many years as a police officer had taught that the first impression was always important. A dead body was generally the end of a long and complicated chain of events, and sometimes it was possible to get an idea of that chain right from the start.
From the book ‘The dogs of Riga’ By Henning Mankell