by Samuel Bjork
Mia took a step towards the screen and pointed out various sections of the picture.
‘The way the candles are arranged. This five-sided shape. The pentagram. It prompts immediate speculation, because it’s a well-known symbol, the gateway to, well, darkness, the devil. I’m not drawing any definitive conclusions now, but I’ve no doubt that we’re dealing with a person, or group of people, who are into that. The occult. Satanism.’
Mia looked across the room now to see if there were any questions, but everyone continued to sit completely still.
‘Do you understand what I mean?’
Some nodded faintly, but no one spoke up yet.
‘As I’m aware, there were no signs of sexual assault, is that right?’
Mia looked across to Munch, who nodded.
‘OK,’ Mia said, clicking through a sequence of new pictures.
‘The virgin,’ Mia continued, stopping at a close-up of the victim. ‘That’s what all these rituals are about, isn’t it?’
Still no one said anything.
‘I’m not saying that Camilla Green was a virgin, not many seventeen-year-old girls are these days, but the fact that she wasn’t sexually assaulted, the fact that she was placed here, among these symbols, naked, and pure, if you will, that’s important.’
Mia reached out for Munch’s mineral-water bottle and took a swig, lost in her own thoughts.
‘Mia?’ Munch coughed softly.
‘What?’
Mia looked at him.
‘Yes. Sorry.’ She pressed the button again and another picture appeared.
‘Like I said,’ Mia went on, ‘I haven’t had much time to look at these photos, so this is just surface.’
Mia raised her head again and smiled cautiously across the room. There was the odd nod here and there. Gabriel Mørk knew that, like him, everyone felt that familiar tingle of expectation. Mia would lead them through this. To the killer.
‘So someone posed her. Naked. Exposed her. A seventeen-year-old girl. Camilla Green. And so my next thought …’
She paused, but not so long that Munch had to rouse her.
‘Is it so that we would find her? Or to display her somehow? That’s an important question.’ Mia looked across to Munch.
‘Absolutely.’ He coughed.
‘Then we have the – let’s call it, the more physical evidence,’ Mia continued.
She clicked a few more times, until she found the picture they had started with.
‘Camilla Green was a healthy, normal girl. She had her problems, that’s true, a foster child, living in a kind of home …?’
‘Hurumlandet Nurseries,’ Munch interjected.
‘But look …’
Fresh pictures.
‘When she went missing, Camilla’s weight was normal. But when she was found, she looked like this.’
Gabriel almost could not bear to look.
‘Thin. Starved. With bruises and cuts to her knees.’
Mia kept clicking. ‘Her elbows …’ And on. ‘… to her calloused palms. She disappeared three months ago. A healthy teenager. Then she reappears like this. She was kept prisoner.’
Gabriel lowered his gaze now; he could not bear to look at the picture on the screen. A prisoner? He could feel he was not the only team member who struggled to process this development.
‘Any questions?’ Mia continued.
It took a while before anyone spoke.
‘I’ve been wondering about … the animal feed?’ Ylva ventured cautiously.
‘Precisely,’ Mia said. ‘An animal.’
‘What do you mean?’
She glanced across the room. ‘An animal, don’t you think, Kim?’
‘I don’t know what to think, Mia.’ Kim spoke in a low voice.
‘She was treated as if she were an animal,’ Mia explained, taking another gulp from the bottle on the table in front of her.
‘But why …?’
It was the new girl again, Ylva, still ashen.
‘That, I don’t know.’ Mia shrugged. ‘Like I said, I only got these pictures yesterday. These are just initial thoughts.’
Mia looked to Munch, who indicated that she could sit down again.
‘OK, great,’ he said as Mia went back to her chair.
There was a long silence in the room.
The others had seen Mia in action before and knew what she could do, but Ylva still looked baffled by what had just happened.
Munch rose and stepped up in front of the screen again. ‘OK, yes, good.’ Their boss scratched his beard. ‘Time for a cigarette, don’t you think?’ he said, and clapped his hands. ‘A quick fag, that’s all, before we carry on. It’s looking promising.’
No one in the room said anything, but Gabriel could see a smile form at the corner of Kim Kolsø’s mouth: Munch was the only member of the team who smoked, so these breaks were purely for his benefit.
Munch put on his coat and disappeared out on to the balcony while everyone else stayed behind.
‘Promising?’ Kim Kolsø was puzzled. ‘What has got into him today?’
Mia shrugged again.
‘It …’ Ludvig Grønlie began, but shut his mouth as quickly as he had opened it.
‘What, Ludvig?’ Kim asked, but Grønlie seemed reluctant to answer.
‘Perhaps Munch should tell us himself,’ Ludvig muttered.
‘What?’ Mia asked, now curious.
Ludvig hesitated, then he pulled out a piece of paper from the file in front of him and shoved it across to her.
‘We got the lists an hour ago.’
‘What lists?’
‘Of the residents and employees at Hurumlandet Nurseries.’
‘Oh, shit,’ Mia mumbled, her eyes scanning the paper in front of her.
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Kim Kolsø said.
‘Rolf Lycke,’ Mia mumbled.
‘Who on earth is Rolf Lycke?’ Kim said, taking the paper from her.
‘Marianne’s boyfriend.’
‘Marianne who?’
‘Marianne Munch,’ Ludvig said quietly.
‘His ex-wife?’ Kim sounded surprised.
‘Yep.’ Ludvig Grønlie nodded. ‘Marianne Munch’s boyfriend. Rolf Lycke. He teaches out there.’
‘Oh, shit,’ Kim said.
‘Exactly,’ Grønlie muttered, slipping the list back into the file as Munch returned from the balcony.
Chapter 15
Isabella Jung was standing in front of the mirror in her room, feeling terribly nervous. She had not felt like this before. It was odd, really. When her therapist had recommended this place several months ago, she had reacted as she always did – whatever, I don’t care – but now everything was different.
She had been in and out of care homes her entire life. She wanted to be in Fredrikstad with her dad, but he was not well enough, so that was not an option. Not according to social services. She did not mind that he drank a bit and that he was often out. Surely she could cook her own food? Surely she could pack her own schoolbag and make her way to the bus stop? But no, she had had to go and live with her mum up north.
Her mum.
Isabella shuddered at the thought.
She swore softly to herself. That witch was not a proper mum. Couldn’t they see that? Mums were supposed to care about their kids. Say nice things. Praise them. Not complain all the time. Criticize her. Tell her she was ugly. That she was useless. That she would never amount to anything. No matter how well she did at school, how many nice comments she got from the teachers, how nicely she tidied her room. First one home, then another, until she had run away at thirteen. Hitchhiked. Made it all the way back. She was not bothered that her dad had been drink-driving and ended up in jail. She could look after herself. But no. Social services had taken her away again, and this time she had ended up at an eating-disorder unit in Oslo, because she had stopped eating.
After that time, she had decided they could all go to hell.
Whatever.
; I don’t care.
But she had heard rumours among the other girls at the unit. That it was nice out there. At Hurumlandet Nurseries. That it was not like the other places. So when the therapist had suggested it, she had agreed, reluctantly, and now she was standing in front of the mirror, surprised how much she wanted this meeting to go well so that she could stay.
Isabella Jung wondered whether she should have put on different make-up, worn nicer clothes, a blouse or something; maybe she should not have worn the hoodie and the ripped jeans, even though she knew that Helene never cared about such things.
On first arriving here she had not been so positive. They had rules here. Lessons were compulsory. There was the big dormitory where the girls lived, a smaller dormitory for boys, three large greenhouses and a number of outbuildings, some tool sheds, and a garage for the cars. Helene had given Isabella a tour of the place on her first day and shown her the map with the boundaries marked on it. Yeah, right – as if anyone could tell her where she could or couldn’t go. Everyone had to wake up at seven, breakfast was at eight, then it was either working in the greenhouses or lessons until lunch, depending on what day of the week it was, then more chores until dinner, which was at six o’clock, then leisure time until lights out at eleven. No one was allowed to leave the area, unless they had jobs such as delivering flowers to customers. And there was no Internet or TV all day, only between eight and ten in the evening. There was also a phone ban. No one got their mobiles until after dinner, and they had to be handed back before bedtime. On that first day, she had thought, I’m not going to last long here, but she had been surprised.
Within a matter of days, she had found a kind of peace. There was no nagging. No criticism. Everyone here seemed to be just fine. It was all down to Helene. Helene was not like the other grown-ups. I know what’s best for you. Helene was not like that at all. I want to stay here.
For the first time in a long while, Isabella had felt, well, almost happy. At the many homes where she had stayed before, no one had cared about what she did. She could get up late in the morning. Stay up for as long as she wanted to at night. Spend hours on the Internet watching TV, chatting; at one point she had spent so many hours in front of the screen that her eyes had started to flicker. She would never have believed that she would enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn – seven o’clock, who does that? – only to work all day. But she loved it.
Isabella decided not to dress up after all; she left on her usual jeans and hoodie, took a last look in the mirror and left her room. It was not until she had closed the door behind her that she noticed the flower on the floor. A white lily. Why was there a white lily in front of her door? She picked it up and studied it for a moment, and then she saw the note on her door.
I like you.
Isabella Jung glanced quickly up and down the corridor, and she felt her cheeks grow hot.
Someone had stood out here, too scared to knock, just left the flower, the note and crept away again.
I like you.
There was a drawing of something underneath. A kind of signature. Whoever had left the flower had been so shy that they had not dared write their name but had drawn something instead. At first she could not make out what it was. A bird? A bird with big eyes – an owl, perhaps? Isabella sniffed the flower, then she quickly glanced around again, aware that her heart was beating a little faster.
Someone likes me?
A secret admirer?
Isabella Jung returned to her room, and put the flower and the note carefully under her pillow before she went back outside, with a spring in her step.
She had barely left the girls’ dormitory before she realized that something was amiss.
She saw Cecilie, one of the girls out here she liked the best; she had tears in her eyes and her arms were wrapped around another girl Isabella didn’t know so well.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’ Cecilie could hardly talk.
‘No, what is it? Tell me.’
‘They’ve found Camilla.’
‘Camilla Green?’
Cecilie nodded.
‘She’s dead. Someone killed her. They found her in the forest.’
‘Oh my God,’ Isabella stuttered.
‘Helene wants us all to come to the classroom now,’ Cecilie sobbed.
‘But …? How …?’
They were interrupted by Paulus, who called out to them from the other side of the yard.
‘Helene is waiting for you, girls. Are you coming?’
At the sight of the boy with the dark curls and the unusually bright blue eyes, Isabella’s heart beat faster. He sounded unbearably sad.
Chapter 16
It was six o’clock and darkness already lay heavily across the capital when Munch and Mia drove to Hurumlandet Nurseries in the black Audi. Had it been up to Mia, they would have left much earlier, right after the briefing meeting.
Helene Eriksen had to inform everyone first, that was the reason for the delay. Break the tragic news to everyone who knew Camilla Green before the police came blundering in. It explained why it was just the two of them going there now – ‘so they don’t have hordes of us trampling around at the same time’, as he had put it. And this Mia did agree with. A group of teenagers with a troubled past – it was not unthinkable that some of them also had a tricky relationship with the police. Sending a fleet of police cars with flashing lights could do more harm than good when it came to getting the information they needed. But Mia was uneasy. She had a feeling that she had missed something. In the pictures. She could not put her finger on what it was.
Too impatient.
Maybe that was her problem. Munch was much steadier, much calmer; though he had acted oddly today, but that wasn’t so surprising given what she knew about the staff list.
She took a lozenge from a packet in her jacket pocket, and opened the window as Munch lit another cigarette and joined the E18. It had been dark since five o’clock, a dense, overpowering darkness, and Mia hated it. This time of the year. The cold. Being smothered by a black blanket; as if the world was not inhuman enough already, now they had to live without light for months. It came back to her again, the warmth from her dream about Sigrid in the field, but she pushed it away, shuddering at the thought that, less than twenty-four hours ago, she had opened and swallowed the contents of the first jar.
He had saved her again. A twist of fate. If Munch had not knocked on the door when he did, she would no longer be here. She had stuck two fingers down her throat and vomited the pills up again. Mia felt a little ashamed now. She had promised herself to try, and then she had given up so soon.
Mia leaned forwards to turn the heating up to max and mulled it over for a while, but there was no way out, no point in pretending that she did not know.
‘So, when were you going to tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’ Munch said.
‘Oh, come on, Holger. I saw the list, we all did. How exactly do you think this is going to play out?’
‘What?’ Munch said again, although she could tell from looking at him that he knew what she meant.
‘Rolf,’ Mia said. ‘Rolf is a teacher out there.’
Munch looked as if he was about to light yet another cigarette, but he stopped himself and continued to stare through the windscreen.
‘It means you shouldn’t be working on this case. You know that, don’t you? If Mikkelson finds out, he’ll take you off the investigation. Holger, what were you thinking? You’re personally involved, you’re compromised, and you don’t say a word to the rest of the team, and—’
‘OK, OK.’
He interrupted her with a wave of his hand and continued to stare out of the windscreen for a while before he said anything: ‘They’re getting married,’ he said, not looking at her.
‘Who?’
‘Marianne and Rolf.’
Mia shook her head. ‘What the hell does that have to do with anything?’
Munch fell silen
t again.
‘Oh, come on, Holger, you’re better than this.’ Mia sighed.
‘Than what?’
‘Do I have to spell it out?’
‘Do you have to spell what out?’
Munch looked truly irritated now. He pulled out and overtook an articulated lorry before returning to the inside lane, then he reached for the cigarettes on the dashboard and lit one.
‘Holger,’ Mia sighed. ‘I don’t have to be a therapist to know what you’re thinking, but this is absurd.’
‘What is?’ Munch said, although again he looked as if he knew perfectly well what she was about to say.
‘That if Rolf Lycke by some fluke turns out to be a suspect in this case, then Marianne will dump him, leaving the way open for you. I mean, seriously, Holger? Straight out of a Hollywood film with a bad script and a happy ending. This isn’t like you.’
She smiled tenderly at him now and was relieved when he eventually returned her smile.
‘Sometimes you can be a real pain, did you know that?’
‘Yes, yes, I know. But somebody had to tell you.’
Munch shook his head as if to confirm his own naivety.
‘He brought her a huge bunch of flowers,’ he said with a small sigh.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Mia said. ‘But then again, it’s been ten years.’
‘I know, Mia.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘About what?’
‘About the fact that he works there? That you should not really be working on the case?’
Munch pressed the accelerator and overtook another lorry before letting out another small sigh and saying, ‘We’ll eliminate him as quickly as possible.’
‘That should work.’ Mia nodded. ‘He obviously didn’t do it.’
‘Obviously.’
‘So let’s get that confirmed and cross him off the list.’
‘Exactly,’ Munch said.
‘That should do it, shouldn’t it?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Problem solved.’ Mia nodded again.
‘It wasn’t even a problem to begin with.’