The Boy in the Headlights

by Samuel Bjork

  ‘He has no eyebrows?’

  ‘He does, but it’s almost as if they’re not there.’

  ‘I think we had better go now. Lots of people want to see the doctor today.’ Mildrid Lind smiled amicably.

  ‘Of course,’ Mia said, and got up.

  ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Thank you for your help, Synne.’

  The young woman smiled briefly and raised her hand in a cautious goodbye before hugging herself and following Lind down the corridor.

  Chapter 55

  Kevin was sitting in the back room of a 7-Eleven in Hegdehaugsveien, nursing a bump to his head, not because someone had hit him but because he had been hungry. Normally, he could go for days without eating. It was like that when he was on heroin – he needed nothing else; a little water, perhaps – but he hadn’t had a fix for days and he had a sudden craving for a Snickers bar.

  ‘Bloody junkie, he’s in here all the time,’ said a female voice far away.

  Kevin tried focusing his eyes on the speaker, but he couldn’t do it.

  And no wonder.

  He had thought this might happen, hadn’t he? He hadn’t had enough money for a proper fix and he’d been unable to get any more. He’d been overtired. Sick, almost. He’d had no energy for anything and so they had shot up something else instead, him and Jimmy. Crushed pills that they had liquefied. Ritalin and Rohypnol. An upper and a downer. Jimmy had heard they made a good substitute for heroin, but Kevin had had his doubts just as the needle went into his skin.

  And no wonder.

  From that point onwards he couldn’t remember very much.

  ‘Oi, zombie?’ another voice said, someone taking hold of his shoulders and shaking them.

  ‘Eh?’ Kevin said, and opened his eyes, not sure if the words had actually left his mouth.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ the man said, turning into a security guard, and Kevin was wide awake. He almost jumped in the chair before the switch was flicked inside his brain and he floated away once more.

  And no wonder.

  Rumour had it Jimmy was a former maths professor who had gone loopy and ended up in the gutter, that he knew all sorts of things about how the world worked, but this had been a really big mistake.

  How long ago was it now?

  He had retched a lot on an empty stomach, only bile coming up. And this theory that minus and plus equalled zero, or whatever the hell it was Jimmy had hoped to achieve when he mixed an upper and a downer, hadn’t worked as it was meant to. One moment Kevin was wide awake, thinking he could run all the way to the moon if he wanted to, the next he was completely out of it, totally zonked.

  He was coming down now.

  Another downer, but this time less horrific. It was almost over now. He just had to hold out a bit longer. He remembered that he had felt hungry. He had found a 7-Eleven and seen the Snickers bar. That was the good news. But then he had run straight into a post and blacked out and had now woken up in this room. That was the bad news, but the theft was no big deal. It was just a bar of chocolate. The most important thing was that it would soon be over.

  What a shit trip.

  ‘And look here,’ the girl said, pointing to the table.

  Kevin was awake now, but he still couldn’t understand what she meant.

  ‘He stole money?’ the security guard asked.

  ‘From the till. There was at least twenty thousand kroner there, and now only half of it is left.’

  ‘Do you have any money on you?’ The security guard shook Kevin’s shoulders again.

  ‘Snickers,’ Kevin mumbled, and felt how dry his mouth was, but at least his voice was coming back.

  ‘So all you took was a bar of chocolate?’

  Kevin wanted to nod, but he was scared that his head might fall off so he sat very still.

  ‘He’s lying to you.’ The girl pointed at the till again. ‘I caught him red-handed. He’s been here before. Look, nearly all the money is gone.’

  Kevin felt better now. He was able to see and hear what was going on. What a relief. He had been so scared of dying just then – or had that been earlier today?

  ‘Where’s the money?’

  The security guard grabbed him hard by the shoulder now.

  ‘If you don’t give it back to us, we’ll have to call the police.’

  ‘What money?’ Kevin mumbled in his confusion.

  ‘The money from the till,’ the girl said, pointing to it for a third time, as if the first two hadn’t been enough. ‘There was at least twenty thousand kroner there and now only half of it is left.’

  It was over now. Thank God. Oh, no, it was coming back. Kevin clung to the edge of the chair, terrified of what was happening, but it was a false alarm. He was still here. No more ups or downs. He smiled to himself. Jimmy was a moron. He was never doing that again. He had to talk to Lotte. They had to have a serious chat. They were a couple. They were supposed to do things together and have no secrets from one another.

  ‘I’ll be back in a week.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Please don’t ask, Kevin. You just have to trust me, OK?’

  ‘Sure, but, seriously, just a hint?’

  ‘I’m going to get something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Please don’t ask any more. I promise. When I’m back, we’ll get out of here, the two of us, OK?’

  ‘Get out of here? And go where?’

  ‘Away from here. From this shithole. You and me. Doesn’t that sound great?’

  Of course it sounded great. Kevin felt himself coming round now. It was time to move on. He had lost his mobile. No wonder he hadn’t heard from Lotte. He would have to get himself a new one.

  ‘So where is it?’ the security guard demanded to know. He seemed angry now.

  ‘Where’s what?’

  ‘The money? From the till?’

  ‘I only took the Snickers,’ Kevin ventured cautiously.

  The security guard looked at the girl, who shook her head. It took a few seconds before Kevin worked out what was going on. There was something in the eyes of the girl wearing the 7-Eleven uniform. That cunning bitch. She had had her hand in the till. Seized her moment as he sat in there. He saw it now. A comatose junkie. The perfect crime. Take the money. Blame him.

  ‘Then we’ll just have to sit here until the police turn up,’ the security guard said.

  Two officers turned up. Police community support officers. Those who hadn’t made it to the academy but still felt the need to wield power. After nearly six years on the streets of Oslo, Kevin had met most of them. In shopping centres. Multistorey car parks. Stairwells. They were everywhere you tried to find a little warmth and a roof over your head.

  ‘It’s total chaos in the city centre. Something must have happened. No one else is going to turn up,’ the first officer said to the second.

  ‘But it needs to be reported,’ said Little Miss Hand-in-the-Till, and folded her arms across her T-shirt.

  Listen, everyone. Hello? No wonder you didn’t make it to the police academy. Ready cash? Add one junkie? Why would I leave half of it behind, if I were the thief? Ten thousand? Why would I leave ten thousand kroner behind? Kevin smiled at his own cleverness and was just about to open his mouth when there was a screeching sound in the street outside the store. Squealing metal wheels followed by an ear-splitting human cry.

  ‘What the hell?’

  Police community support officer number two stuck his head out of the door and his eyes widened.

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Someone got knocked over by the tram.’

  Mayhem ensued. Kevin found himself between police community support officers one and two, with his face pressed against the window and looking out at the street, where an old man was lying on the ground. Then that moment where nobody knows what to do next happened. It’s not in the script. You’re walking down the
street. You’re minding your own business. Suddenly there’s a bang. A man lies dying right in front of you. Someone faints. Others hug one another. There’s crying. Someone calls an ambulance. Someone takes out their mobile and films everything. Someone tries to help. Puts their hands on the injured man’s chest. Tries mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Tries to stop the bleeding. Kevin did none of these things. He walked calmly to the back room, stuffed the remaining ten thousand kroner into his pocket.

  And legged it to the city centre.

  Chapter 56

  Hege Anita was only seven years old, but she understood much more than the grown-ups believed. Take social services – they were dangerous people. They stole little girls from their mummies. Whenever they turned up, it was important to be as quiet as a mouse and not open the door, no matter how many times they rang the doorbell. If it became too scary, as it sometimes did, she would stick her fingers in her ears and think about nice things, like the white cat that often sat in the playground outside their block of flats, or perhaps sing a song to herself. ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ or ‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’, although Christmas was a long way away and they would be spending it with Granny; her mum had promised that last Christmas as well, only it hadn’t happened.

  A teacher had kept her back after school today. He had asked her questions, but Hege Anita had learned what to say by now so, fortunately, it had gone well this time too. Her teacher’s name was Tore and he had some sort of disease because his hair grew only over his ears and not on top of his head, but he was very nice. Hege Anita didn’t think it was right to lie, but you couldn’t always get what you wanted in this world, she had learned that at a very early age, so it was just a matter of getting it over with.

  Please would you tell your mum that we would like to talk to her?

  Nod, smile nicely and say yes.

  She hasn’t been to parents’ evenings, you see, and she doesn’t pick up the phone when we ring.

  More nodding, maybe scratch her leg, think of something else, perhaps the other children on their way home outside the windows of her classroom, to homes where they lived with their mummy and their daddy, who weren’t away all the time and didn’t sleep in the middle of the day.

  Did you give her the letter I gave you to take home?

  Squirm on her chair, maybe pretend that she needed the loo. That usually worked.

  Hege Anita took the key that was hanging around her neck and let herself into the flat.

  ‘Hello?’

  Not a sound.

  But her mum’s shoes were there and the jacket she always wore was on the floor and Hege Anita felt happy.

  Her mummy was home.

  Hurrah! she wanted to shout, but not too loudly, obviously; her mum didn’t like being woken up if she was asleep, something she often was when she wasn’t out working. She didn’t have a job but she would do things and bring home money so it was sort of like having a job.

  There had been an open day at her school recently and some of the other mums had talked about their jobs. One was a doctor who saved sick children. One was a dentist who helped children if they had cavities. One worked with computers, and another looked after her family, and she had thought that woman was almost like her mum. And that her mum could have been there, although her mum had said no and practically laughed at Hege Anita when she had asked.

  ‘Hello?’ she whispered cautiously, and kicked off her boots. She half ran down the passage and into the living room, but no one was there.

  The door to the bedroom was closed.

  Do not disturb.

  She knew not to, but even so, today? Perhaps it was OK today, given all the good things that had happened.

  Tore had praised her. Held up her drawing to the whole class and said nice things about it, and she had gone red in the face. She had drawn a picture of her grandad in the car with Granny next to him. And the dog, of course, and in the background she had drawn a fishing boat and a seagull. She hadn’t really thought much about it until he had come over to her desk.

  A gold star.

  She could hardly believe it.

  Everyone else in her class had praised it as well.

  ‘Wow, that’s really good.’

  ‘Wow, you’re great at drawing.’

  ‘Wow, can you teach me to draw like you?’

  In the break afterwards everyone wanted to play with her, which was so different from how it usually was. She had been allowed to go first when they played Simon Says and been picked as the captain of one of the rounders teams.

  What a great day!

  The drawing was in her school bag.

  Hege Anita took it out carefully and positioned herself in front of the door to her mum’s bedroom again.

  This is for you, Mum.

  But she didn’t.

  It was probably for the best.

  Hege Anita put the drawing back in her school bag and went to the kitchen. Her face lit up when she saw what was on the counter. Honey Cheerios. And milk in the fridge as well. Her mum must have got money again, probably from the man in the army jacket who never came in but just stood in the doorway. No wonder she was tired. Hege Anita carried the milk and the cereal into the living room and turned on the TV.

  NRK Super was her favourite channel, but it wasn’t on Channel 3 where it normally was.

  ‘Breaking News,’ it said at the top of the screen.

  Hege Anita poured milk into the bowl and turned up the volume.

  ‘Police have today released pictures of the prime suspect in the triple homicide …’

  A picture of a man appeared on the screen.

  The Odd Squad was her favourite programme. And the cartoon about the girls who had their own horses.

  No horses now, only a picture of a man with a gun and a helmet on his head.

  She opened the cereal box and scattered Cheerios onto the milk. She preferred to eat it like that because she could dunk the cereal hoops and pretend they were little boats with people who she could then save with her mouth.

  Hege Anita had stuck her spoon into the bowl when another picture appeared on the screen and her eyes widened.

  ‘Police are also looking for this woman …’

  What?

  The TV showed a picture of …

  Her mum?

  No …

  First one.

  Then another.

  Yes, it was her …

  Leaving a shop.

  Wearing her green baseball cap.

  The woman on the TV was still talking, but Hege Anita was no longer listening.

  A drawing now.

  And then another photograph.

  Mum?

  But why …?

  Hege Anita got up and ran as fast as her little legs would carry her across the slippery floor. She waited in front of the door for a moment, her heart pounding under her jumper, before she made up her mind and started banging her fists on the closed bedroom door.

  FIVE

  Chapter 57

  Holger Munch was in Freddy Fuego Burrito Bar in Hausmannsgate, eating a late breakfast. He had slept badly and was feeling grouchy. It hadn’t helped that the benches in here were narrow and rock hard either, but at least he was getting something to eat. He had considered Starbucks, as it was nearer, but he couldn’t cope with all those people. Not today. He had left the meeting in the situation room with a bad feeling, and it had only worsened during the evening. Arrogant know-it-alls – how could they be so sure that they had found the right man? It had troubled him throughout the night. He had got up several times, chain-smoked out the window like an old chimney, then woken up feeling sick and in a thoroughly foul mood.

  He scrunched up the wrapper and drained the rest of his cola as Anette Goli entered the café. He hadn’t spoken to her since yesterday afternoon and he needed her to help him straighten out his thinking. Mia was his usual sounding board, but she wasn’t taking his calls. For obvious reasons.

  ‘Hello?’ Anette said,
looking around, somewhat confused.

  ‘I know,’ Munch said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘I had to get out of the office. I’ve convinced myself that they hear and see everything we do down there.’

  ‘Who?’ Goli asked, sitting down.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ Munch mumbled. ‘The generals.’

  Anette smiled faintly and tucked her hair behind her ear. He knew that she had been working non-stop since the meeting yesterday but, if she was tired, she was hiding it well.

  ‘Coffee?’ Munch said. ‘Burrito?’

  ‘No, thank you. I have to get back as soon as possible.’

  They had set up a temporary call centre down at police headquarters in Grønland. Twenty manned telephone lines. After they had gone public with the suspect, the response had, predictably, been overwhelming.

  ‘How is it going down there?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Anette sighed. ‘The phones haven’t stopped ringing. It’s not easy to stay on top of all the calls, but we’re sifting through them as best we can.’

  ‘Any proper leads yet?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. We don’t have the capacity to check even half of them out. Someone saw him in the house next door. Someone saw him on Gran Canaria. On the metro. Roller-skating up by Lake Sognsvann. We even had a caller who insisted he had to be his daughter’s football coach, and no, he didn’t look much like the man in the pictures but he had a military bearing.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ Anette said, ignoring her phone.

  ‘This.’ Munch opened the file on the table in front of him.

  He pulled out the sketch artist’s drawings of Karl Overlind and placed them next to the photograph of Ivan Horowitz.

  ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘Do we seriously think that this is the same man?’

  Goli glanced at the pictures.

  ‘Holger—’

  ‘Just take a look at them.’

  ‘I know you don’t like it. Them taking charge. I don’t like it very much myself, but what can we do?’

  ‘No, seriously. I agree there are similarities, but are there enough of them? Enough for us to jettison everything we already have? Jump when they say jump?’