The Scarred Woman

by Jussi Adler-Olsen

  “At that point she becomes ‘deaf’ to your dad, I can see.” Carl pointed at 2007. “I think we can work out the rest of her phrases, but perhaps Gordon has already done that?”

  Mona nodded. “Her appointment in 2008 with Department Q made her stronger, and now she’s almost mocking her dad. ‘Laughter stopped?’ and even more pronounced in 2009, ‘Get lost, shit!’”

  “I don’t know if you remember, but the following year she suddenly came to work dressed as Yrsa, and managed to pull it off for several days. In fact, she was so good at mimicking someone else that she had us completely fooled. Was it just an act to tease us, or do you interpret that as a relapse, Mona?”

  It was the first time in years he had spoken to her directly by name. It sounded strangely unfamiliar in his mouth. It almost felt intimidating. Far too intimate. What the hell was going on? “But don’t you remember that you two had just had a squabble, Carl?” asked Assad. “She reacted as if you’d bullied her.”

  “I didn’t, did I?”

  Mona shook her head. “We’ll probably never know. But seen from the outside, and no matter what, working with you has had an extremely positive influence on her,” she offered. “And then came the case, which Gordon has explained to us, where a certain Christian Habersaat, who shot himself on Bornholm, resembled the girls’ dad so much that Rose almost had a breakdown. In the long run, it could have had a beneficial effect, but then you all made the fatal decision to visit a hypnotist, where her repressed emotions rose to the surface at once, causing her to require psychiatric help for the first time since she has been working here, am I right?”

  Carl pursed his lips. This didn’t make for easy listening. “Yes, but I just put it down to hysteria or one of Rose’s usual moods, which would be over quick enough. We’ve been through a lot together over the years, so how were we supposed to know that it was so serious?”

  “She writes, ‘I’m drowning.’ That event probably hit her harder than you knew, Carl. You can’t be blamed for that.”

  “No, but then she didn’t say anything.”

  He leaned forward, trying to remember. Did he recall things as they really had been? Had she never said anything?

  “With the benefit of hindsight, I have the feeling that Assad was more alert all along.” He turned to face him. “What do you think, Assad?”

  Curly hesitated momentarily, stroking his hairy left arm with his right hand. It was obvious that he was trying to answer as delicately as possible.

  “I did try to stop you when you assigned the Habersaat report to her, remember? But I didn’t know all this, or I’d have been more insistent.”

  Carl nodded. And then there was the message she had written all over the walls of her home: “You do not belong here.” Her father had returned to her life.

  The effect of his tyranny had no end.

  “What now, Mona?” he asked dejectedly.

  She tilted her head to one side, almost exuding tenderness.

  “I’ll write a report to Rose’s psychiatrists about what we know, and you do what you do best, Carl. Find the girl who made Rose rebellious. Find out about the nature of the dad’s psychological harassment. Maybe this friend knows what started it all. And finally, you and Assad need to do all you can to find out what really happened at that steel plant.”

  24

  Wednesday, May 25th, 2016

  “You say you haven’t come in to work, so why are you here?” asked her manager with obvious skepticism in her voice.

  Anneli looked at her blankly. She was one to talk. When had she last done a day’s work that could make her team nod in acknowledgment? Certainly not in her current position. In fact, things were easier when the woman was away on one of her usual management courses in some exotic location or other with the rest of the municipal crooks. At least then they could get on with the important work. Anneli had had a few managers like her over the years, but she took the cake. Charmless and totally out of touch with the circulars and legislation informing them what they could and couldn’t do. In short, she was the most expendable person in the department and yet the one they couldn’t avoid.

  “I’m working a little from home to keep up to date, but I needed to check up on a few things at the office,” said Anneli, thinking about the case files of several potential victims.

  “Working from home? Yes, you do appear to have had a good deal of what we might term sporadic absence, for want of a better phrase, Anne-Line.”

  The manager squinted so her eyelashes hid her pupils. It was at moments like this that you had to be most on guard. It had been less than five weeks since the woman had attended an excruciatingly expensive efficiency course in Bromölla, Sweden, to learn what a consistent employee policy could do for her popularity with her boss, and which signals to send to scare her subordinates. Four colleagues had been demoted to crappy jobs since she had taken that course, and it could be Anneli’s turn any second.

  “Well, we appear to be at the point where a doctor’s note would be appropriate if you feel you can’t manage a normal working week, Anne-Line.” She forced a smile, which she had obviously also learned. “You can come and talk to me anytime if you have something you need to discuss, but you know that already, I assume?” She was well aware that this offer was risk-free.

  “Thank you. But I’ve just been working from home while I get over this bout of flu, and I don’t think I’m behind with anything.”

  That swiped the smile off her manager’s face. “No, Anne-Line, but people need to know that you’ll be here when they’ve made appointments with you.”

  She nodded. “That’s why I’ve conducted some of my meetings over the telephone,” she lied.

  “Have you, now? And I’m sure you’ll be giving me a written record of these meetings, won’t you?” she said, adjusting Anneli’s desk nameplate.

  She hadn’t heard the last from her.

  —

  Anneli looked out of the window, watching sharp rays of sun struggling to shine through the dirty glass and into this futile Sisyphean world. All the bickering and nonsense that took place in the adjacent offices didn’t interest her at all anymore. Her colleagues felt like shadows blocking out the light. That was the thought she had had while undergoing her usual fifteen minutes of radiation treatment. Of course, she did have some good clients who really needed help and who cooperated to the best of their ability to better their situation, even though it was often in vain. There were just very few of them at the moment, and as the days went by most of the cases on her desk seemed more and more irrelevant, because after her diagnosis and the new project, Anneli was no longer interested in stopgaps.

  Over the past few days she had reluctantly had to force herself to slow down, because planning and preparing the next murders took time. Just trying to find a suitable car had taken five hours last night, but now that was arranged. The battered black Honda Civic she had found out in Tåstrup was perfect for her needs.

  It was an inconspicuous, low, dark car with tinted windows—almost the ideal murder weapon. In fact, this morning she had been sitting in the Honda for an hour without being noticed in the parking lot on Præstegårdsvej next to Sandalsparken so she could observe the comings and goings in the neighborhood.

  In this blessed calm, she concluded that it was of no real consequence if there were witnesses when she hit her victim. What did it matter if they took down the license number if she was going to use the car only once? She knew how to make a quick getaway and where she was going to park the car in Ølstykke, which was a good five kilometers from there.

  All in all, she felt well prepared and intoxicated just thinking about it. She would make her move as soon as an opportunity presented itself to do away with the Zimmermann girl or Jazmine, no doubt about that. Naturally, there could be problems. What would she do if both girls turned up together, maybe even arm in arm? Just the sort of th
ing spoiled brats like them did. In that case, the impact would cause serious damage to the front of the car, and there was also the risk that one or both of the bodies would be thrown up on the hood and smash the windshield. It wasn’t unheard of.

  She smiled, feeling prepared even for this eventuality. With a scarf around her head and neck and sunglasses to protect her eyes, the shards of glass posed no problem.

  Yes, she believed that she had considered every eventuality. Even though she had read about cars involved in collisions with wild animals where the beast had come straight through the windshield, maiming the driver, this situation was different. Deer had a tendency to panic and jump up, but she didn’t anticipate this sort of athletic reaction from Denise or Jazmine. And especially not if she hit them from behind.

  She could just picture it.

  —

  That evening after work, she backed into a parking space opposite the building so she had a clear view up to the apartment and the walkway. Whether the bitches were coming or going made no difference. She would hit them all the same.

  She laughed at her wickedness and thought that there was nothing more meaningful at this moment than sitting in this godforsaken place in a stolen car with the radio on the lowest volume while keeping her eyes on the first floor. Because up there were two of the girls Anneli was looking most forward to killing.

  There had been activity up on the walkway a few times. And if one of the girls made an appearance, Anneli’s plan was to start the engine and let it run idle. It was such an aesthetic and powerful humming. A sound that promised action. Only the sound of fighter helicopters above a dense jungle could match it. This whirring sound of death had been the pulse of the Vietnam War. Poetic, rhythmic, and also comforting, it could be claimed for those who had been on the right side of the front. She closed her eyes for a moment, calling to mind the well-known scenes, and therefore failed to notice the UPS delivery vehicle until it stopped right in front of her, blocking her way out and, no less important, her view to the girls’ apartment and the sidewalk in front of the main door.

  When the deliveryman had walked past their apartment up on the walkway, a figure appeared from the door behind him. Anneli didn’t manage to see whether it was Denise or Jazmine, but it had to be one of them considering the conspicuous outfit.

  Damn that delivery van blocking her exit.

  Anneli leaned forward over the wheel in frustration, as if that would result in the deliveryman returning quicker.

  When he finally showed up, he got in the van and sorted through some paperwork for a few minutes before finally putting the van in gear and driving off.

  Anneli gave up on the idea of driving in the direction that the girl from the apartment had gone. Egedal shopping center was only a few minutes away, so she had probably already disappeared into the labyrinth of shops.

  Instead, she decided to pull out to the edge of the road so she wouldn’t end up in the same situation as before.

  Then she scratched the spot where the radiation therapy had damaged her skin and waited.

  —

  She first saw the approaching figure with shopping bags at the same time as an elderly woman with a dog crossed the parking lot. Right there, as if on command, the dog stopped on the sidewalk next to Anneli to do its business.

  Damn mongrel, she thought. The woman was fumbling for a dog-waste bag just as the young woman was approaching.

  “Get the hell out of here and just leave the shit where it is,” she said, sitting back in her seat. The bags the girl was carrying were dangling around her legs as if they weren’t full. She looked grotesque in her ridiculously high heels and a very fake-looking leopard-print jacket.

  Tarted up for a night on the town even when she’s doing the shopping, she thought as the girl turned her face in Anneli’s direction.

  Anneli gasped. It was Michelle.

  She froze. Good God! So Michelle lives there too, she thought as the implications of that possibility dawned on her. If the three girls were living together in the apartment, it could easily be a lethal cocktail.

  What had Michelle told the others? Did she still suspect her? And if so, what were the consequences?

  Just one word from them to the authorities and she would be under suspicion.

  Of course she could deny the accusation, referring to the girls’ dishonesty and aversion to her. But what good would that do when it came to it? Her meddlesome boss could confirm that her behavior had changed lately. They could easily find out that over the years she had been in contact with the girls she had hit. Her so-called friends from work could confirm that she had missed the yoga class last week and would eagerly say how much she hated that type of client. The police experts would probably be able to check her computer and trace her search history no matter how much she tried to delete it. Perhaps they could even find traces of her DNA despite her best efforts to clean the Peugeot.

  Those girls could really cause her a lot of problems.

  Anneli turned off the engine and considered the situation.

  Apparently Michelle had now left her boyfriend, so maybe there were some problems on the home front that could point the finger of suspicion in his direction if anything were to happen to Michelle or one of the other girls.

  Could that be the reason why Michelle had left Patrick? Did she suspect her imbecile boyfriend of trying to kill her? Was Anneli even a suspect?

  For a moment she imagined all three girls appearing on the street together so she could solve this situation once and for all. A quick acceleration and one determined aim were all that would be needed. Of course the vehicle she had stolen was too light to kill all three of them, so she would have to run them over several times before she could be sure they were dead.

  Anneli smiled and began laughing at the thought. It was so amusing to imagine those three stupid girls flattened out on the road. Her laughter rose and rose until her body began to shake.

  She caught herself in the rearview mirror: open mouth, bared teeth, and a hysterical look in her eyes. That put a damper on her amusement.

  She looked down at herself, noticing that her body seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Her hands were drumming on her thighs, her knees were knocking together like pistons, and her feet were tapping on the mat like drumsticks. It looked completely insane, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Rather, it felt pleasurable, as if she had taken some sort of aphrodisiac.

  Have I developed brain metastases? Am I going crazy? she thought and started to laugh again. It was all so comical and fantastic. An old caseworker like her whom no one reckoned with. To think of the power she suddenly wielded. What undeniable and potent power.

  Anneli looked up at the roof of the car. The euphoric state she was in demanded action. If it couldn’t be those three damn girls up there in the apartment, she could easily find someone else.

  Anneli felt that her intuition was right. In fact, she could not remember ever feeling better.

  She looked at her watch. It was very late, but if she drove off now she could make Bertha Lind her next victim.

  A dark shadow appeared as a taxi stopped a few meters in front of her car. Simultaneously, the door opened up on the walkway and three women appeared.

  As they got into the taxi, Anneli was certain. Even though two of them were almost unrecognizable with all the makeup and their hair dyed black, there could be no doubt. It was Denise, Jazmine, and Michelle dolled up for a night on the town.

  When the taxi drove off, Anneli put the Honda in gear and followed.

  25

  Wednesday, May 25th, 2016

  “Stop calling me when you’re drunk, Mother. How often do I have to tell you? I can smell your breath through the receiver.”

  “Why do you say things like that, Denise? You know I’m just feeling sad.” She sniffled once to emphasize her point.

  “You’re dis
gusting, Mother. What do you want?”

  “But where are you? I haven’t heard from you for days, and the police have been here. They wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know where you were.”

  “The police? What about?” Denise held her breath and sat back in her chair.

  “They just wanted to talk to you about your grandmother.”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone about my grandmother, got it? I’ve got nothing to do with that, and you’d better not make them think otherwise. What have you told them?”

  “Nothing about you. Where are you, Denise? I can come and meet you wherever you are.”

  “No, you can’t. I’ve moved in with a guy in . . . Slagelse. And it’s none of your business.”

  “But—”

  Denise hung up and looked at Michelle, who was sneaking out of her room. Her eyes looked small, and the contours of her face were undefined. She was destined to look like a shadow of her younger self when she got old. She would become flabby from eating all the wrong things and would look like a cow in clothes that she was far too old to wear. It was a real shame.

  “Hi, Denise.” It looked like Michelle was trying to smile, but after their discussion the previous night it would take more than that to establish genuine intimacy between them. She felt much more on the same wavelength as Jazmine. Jazmine understood the situation and how screwed they were if they didn’t create a new life for themselves. That the ship had sailed for these little girls; that reality, their bad choices, lack of education, and untapped talents had caught up with them. That was something a pathetic creature like Michelle could never understand.

  “Cool that you chose Coldplay, Denise,” said Michelle as the phone rang again with the ringtone for her mother.

  Denise shook her head and immediately rejected the call, went to her settings, and blocked the number once and for all.