by Samuel Bjork
Mia nodded. Holger had a lovely, but dangerously close, relationship to his granddaughter. Mia was convinced that if anyone told him to cut off his arm for her, he would do it without hesitation. Without anaesthetic. Here you are, one arm; do you need another one?
‘Ouch, that’s a tricky one.’
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? So do I go along with it?’
‘Well, it’s complicated.’
‘I do understand that it’s just money and, seriously, we have more important things to think about. Two six-year-old girls are dead and another eight dresses are out there. It’s a bloody nightmare, I don’t even want to think about it. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. I can barely sleep – I lie awake, waiting for the phone to ring telling me that another girl has disappeared. Do you understand?’
Mia nodded. She felt exactly the same.
‘So that’s why I didn’t want to do this on the phone. It’s hardly relevant in the greater scheme of things. And I didn’t want anyone to know that I’m spending my time on anything other than catching this bastard.’
‘Let’s hope we’re talking about just the one,’ Mia said.
‘Do you think there could be more?’
‘I don’t know, but we have to keep an open mind, don’t we?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Holger fell silent for a moment, mulling over what Mia had just said.
‘Why don’t you just talk to her?’
‘What?’
‘Talk to your mother. Tell her what you just said to me. About Marion?’
‘Yes, of course, I’m sure you’re right.’ Holger sighed. ‘Only, she can be very stubborn. Sometimes I get the feeling it’s payback because the move to the care home wasn’t her choice.’
‘She had threatened to burn down the whole apartment block, Holger. It had to be done.’
‘Yes, I know, but even so.’
Suddenly, Mia felt sorry for him. A too-nice man surrounded by generations of strong women. Not that he had realized it himself; he still felt guilty about the divorce. Mia had tried telling him several times that it wasn’t his fault, that it had been Marianne’s decision, but he seemed to turn a deaf ear.
‘Do you think there are more?’
‘People responsible for killings?’
Holger nodded.
‘Not really.’
‘I agree. But we do need to keep an open mind.’
‘I’ve been a bit …’ Mia said, but stopped herself.
‘Been what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know what you’d call it Ö not quite focused. I can’t get into it. I can’t see the picture. There’s something behind the pattern, I know it, it’s screaming at me, it’s as clear as daylight, but I can’t see it – if you understand what I mean.’
‘It’ll come,’ Munch reassured her. ‘You’ve been out of the loop. That’s all it is.’
‘Probably.’ Mia nodded softly. ‘Let’s hope so. To be honest, I feel a bit useless. I feel sorry for myself. I act like a brat. That’s not like me. I hate myself when I’m like this. If it turns out I can’t focus, promise me you’ll take me off the case?’
‘I need you, Mia,’ Munch said. ‘There’s a reason I brought you back.’
‘To sort out your family problems?’
‘Do you know something, Mia? Screw you.’
‘Screw you, too, Holger. I was doing fine where I was.’
The two colleagues smiled and exchanged an affectionate look which needed no further explanation.
Holger lit another cigarette while Mia took another sip of her beer and tightened the rug around her.
‘Hønefoss was in 2006, wasn’t it?’
‘August,’ Holger nodded. ‘Why?’
‘If she was still alive, she would have started school this year. Have you thought about that?’
‘The thought had occurred to me,’ Holger said. ‘Gabriel said something that got me thinking.’
‘What was it?’
‘Something about a teacher. That we might be looking for a teacher, something along those lines.’
‘That’s not a bad idea. Perhaps he has the makings of a police officer after all.’
‘You don’t think she’s still alive?’ Holger asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was the way you said it, ìif she was still aliveî. The baby who disappeared. We never found her. She might still be alive.’
‘No,’ Mia said.
‘You sound so sure?’
‘She’s not alive.’
‘No, I don’t think so either, but it’s possible?’
‘She’s not alive,’ Mia declared.
‘What do you think about the teacher theory?’
‘It’s not bad. Let’s keep it in mind.’
Holger nodded and glanced at his mobile.
‘I have to run, got some paperwork to do before I go to bed. Mikkelson is pestering me.’
‘I thought Anette was dealing with that side of things?’
‘She does as much as she can.’
Holger got up and took out his wallet.
‘My treat,’ Mia insisted.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. I understand your family is about to run out of money – it’s the least I can do.’
‘Ha-ha.’ Holger laughed and winked at her.
‘Will there be a full briefing tomorrow morning?’
‘I hadn’t planned on one. Let’s see what we get from the laptop and the iPhone.’
‘I’ll keep you posted,’ Mia promised.
‘Yes, please. See you later.’
Mia stayed behind after Munch had left, contemplating the empty beer glass on the table in front of her. She fancied another one, but wasn’t convinced it was a wise move. The hotel room would be a better option: go to bed early in clean sheets. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the glass while she ran the case through her head to make her brain wake up.
‘Can I get you anything else?’
The waitress was back, still with a smile on her lips.
‘Yes, another beer, please. And a shot of Ratzeputz schnapps.’
‘Certainly.’ The girl nodded and disappeared.
‘Mia?’
A familiar and yet unknown face appeared behind a glowing cigarette in the courtyard. A woman her own age came over to her table.
‘Don’t you recognize me? Susanne. From Åsgårdstrand?’
The woman bent down and gave Mia a big hug. Of course. Susanne Hval. She had lived a few doors further down the street. One year younger than Sigrid and her. A long time ago, the three of them had been close friends.
‘Hi, Susanne. Sorry, I was completely lost in my work.’
‘I understand. I hope I’m not intruding. Is it all right if I sit down?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Well, who would have thought it?’ Susanne laughed. ‘How long has it been?’
‘Far too long.’
Her old friend gazed at Mia with a big smile on her face.
‘I haven’t seen you since Ö well, I saw you in the newspaper. Do you mind me bringing that up?’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Mia smiled.
‘So what happened? After the investigation and everything?’
‘I went on holiday.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, God, no, it’s great,’ Mia said, gesturing to the chair Holger had just vacated.
She had thought about Susanne several times over the years, especially after Sigrid died. They had met at Sigrid’s funeral, but she had not seen her since or contacted her; there had just been so much to do. It felt good to see her old friend again.
The waitress returned with the beer and the Ratzeputz schnapps.
‘Do you want anything?’
Susanne shook her head.
‘I have a beer inside. I’m here with some people from work.’
She said the latter to Mia with a hint of pride in her voice.
<
br /> ‘So you’ve moved to Oslo?’ Mia asked.
‘Yes, four years ago.’
‘Great, what do you do?’
‘I work at Nationaltheatret.’ Susanne smiled.
‘Wow, congratulations.’
Mia could vaguely remember Susanne being very keen for her to join an amateur theatre group in Horten but, fortunately, she had managed to get out of it. Being on stage was most definitely not for Mia. The very thought made her shudder.
‘I’m only an assistant director but, even so, it’s a lot of fun. We’re about to open with Hamlet. Stein Winge is directing. It’s going to be a hit, I think. You should go. I have spare tickets for the first night. Do you fancy it?’
Mia smiled faintly. She remembered what Susanne was like now. The energetic, open girl everyone liked so much. The warm gaze it had always been difficult to say no to.
‘Perhaps.’ She nodded. ‘I’m quite busy at work at the moment, but let’s see if I can find the time.’
‘God, it’s so good to see you.’ Susanne laughed. ‘Listen, why don’t I go and get my beer? The actors only care about themselves, they’ll never notice if I’m gone.’
‘You do that.’ Mia smiled.
‘You wait here. Don’t go away.’
Susanne quickly stubbed out her cigarette and half ran into the bar to fetch her drink.
Chapter 27
Tobias Iversen had set the alarm clock for six and woken up as soon as it went off. He quickly reached over the bedside table to turn it off; he didn’t want the shrill noise to wake up anyone else in the house. His younger brother, Torben, was not at home. He was having a sleepover with a friend from school. Tobias slipped out of bed and got dressed as quietly as he could. Everything was ready; he had been planning this trip for several days. His rucksack was packed and waiting at the foot of his bed. He didn’t know how long he would be away, but he had packed extra supplies, just to be on the safe side. He had a tent which slept two people, his sleeping bag, a camping stove and some food, his knife, an extra pair of socks, and an extra jumper, in case it got cold, his compass and an old map he had found in the loft. He was ready to go exploring and couldn’t wait to get out of the house.
In the days after he and his brother had found the girl hanging from the tree in the forest, being at home had been slightly less bad. His mother and stepfather had had a lot of visitors, mostly police officers, who asked questions and kept probing, and his mother and stepfather had been on their best behaviour. They had even tidied the house: the living room looked completely different now; it even smelled nice nearly all the time. The police officers had been really kind. Treated him almost like a hero, told him how good he had been, how he had done all the right things. Tobias had been almost embarrassed: he wasn’t used to so much praise. The police officers had been around for several days. Not during the nights, but from early in the morning to late at night. They had cordoned off the area with red-and-white plastic tape that said ‘POLICE’ to keep nosy people at bay. And there were plenty of those, both from the village and elsewhere. Further down the road, there had been cars from TV stations, helicopters in the air and plenty of journalists and photographers around, and several of them had wanted to talk to Tobias. In the days following the discovery, their phone didn’t stop ringing, and he had heard his mother talk to somebody about money, that they would get paid lots if the boys were prepared to be interviewed, but the police had said no, prohibited it, and to be honest, Tobias was relieved at that. People had already started to treat him differently during breaktime at school. Most of them, especially the girls, had thought it was cool – he had become a kind of local celebrity – but it had also sparked trouble because some of the boys, especially the two new ones from Oslo, had grown jealous and started saying bad things about him. Tobias had asked his mother if he could take a few days off school because the journalists would come there as well, taking pictures of him while he kicked a football around and calling out to him to come over to the fence. He didn’t, obviously: the police had told him not to talk to anyone about what he had seen, and he wanted to do as the police officers had said. Dressed in white plastic all-in-ones, they had searched the whole forest. Tobias had sat on a chair outside, watching them. No one else was allowed to do that. Even NRK and TV2, as well as everyone else, had to wait at the end of the road behind the cordon and could only shout out whenever someone drove past. But he was the one who had found her and he knew every tree stump in the forest, and he had soon got to know the police officers. There was one called Kim, one called Curry and another one called Anette, and then there was their boss, who had a beard and whose name was Holger. The boss hadn’t been there very often, only once, but it was he who had interviewed Tobias and he who had decided that no one was allowed to talk to anyone about what they had seen. Tobias had spoken mostly to the police officer called Kim, and quite a lot with the one called Curry. Tobias liked them both enormously. They had not treated him like a child, but more like a grown-up. Often, they would leave the forest and walk down to the yard where he sat to ask him questions. Were there usually many people in the woods. Had he built the little hut inside? Questions about their neighbours. Did he remember seeing anything suspicious recently? On the first evening, a psychologist had visited them with an offer of counselling, so he had chatted to her for a little while – that had been all right – but he had not been particularly upset at finding the girl, because it had taken a few days before the truth of what he had seen began to sink in. That was when it hit him. He had been sitting on the steps when it dawned on him. That it was real. That the girl in the tree whose name was Johanne had had parents, and a sister, and aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends and neighbours, and that now she was gone, and they would never see her again. And that someone had done this to her on purpose, not far from his house, and Tobias had shuddered at the thought that it could have been him hanging from the tree. Or his younger brother. He had felt really bad inside and had had to go upstairs to lie down in his bed, and that night he had had terrible nightmares. About people putting a skipping rope around his neck and hanging him and shooting sharp arrows at him, and he had heard Torben calling out for help, but he was unable to free himself, he was trapped, and he struggled frantically, unable to breathe. Tobias had woken up covered in sweat and with his head sticking to the pillow.
The police had spent several days in the area, then it seemed as if they had finished and they left again. The cordons down the road had also been removed, and some of the journalists had come to their house and rung the doorbell, but his mother had not let them in. Tobias was convinced that she really wanted to – he believed some of them had offered a lot of money but the senior police officer, Holger, the fat one with the beard and the nice eyes, had been very strict.
Now, Tobias had been planning this trip for a long time, and his timing was perfect. He was off school and, for once, his younger brother was not at home. When he was ready, he put on his rucksack and crept out of the back door without making a sound.
He had been to Litjønna before, so he knew the way. He had packed the map and the compass, just to be on the safe side. He might decide to make a detour along the way. Matches? Had he remembered the matches? He took off the rucksack and checked the side pockets. Yes, there they were. Matches were important. The nights would be cold without a campfire. Not that he intended to be gone all night, but you never knew. He might decide to stay in the forest and never return to this gloomy house. How about that? Never go back. That would serve them right. It was a silly idea and he knew it; his younger brother would be back tomorrow. Tobias loved being with his brother, but it was nice to have some time to himself.
Tobias put the rucksack on again and closed the door softly behind him. The fresh spring air struck him outside in the yard. He moved quickly across the open terrain and entered the forest. Tobias chose a different route to his usual one, so he didn’t have to pass their home-made hut or the place where they had found the gir
l: he didn’t want to think about that right now, he didn’t want to feel scared again; he had to be tough now, he was on his own and embarking on an expedition, he couldn’t afford to be scared. Tobias chose the route along the river until he reached a path he could follow quite a long way in. When he had been walking for about an hour, he took off his rucksack and ate some breakfast. It was important to keep his energy levels up and he hadn’t wanted to make any noise in the kitchen back home. The forest was nice and dry; it hadn’t rained for a while. He sat down on a tree stump, enjoying the view while he munched his sandwich and drank some juice from a bottle he had packed. Tobias loved spring. Seeing winter release its grip, it felt as if fresh possibilities opened up; another chance that something new would happen, that the world would be different. He had often thought that New Year’s Eve ought to be in spring, not in the middle of winter: the day after 31 December was never any different but, in spring, everything was. The beautiful green of newly opened leaves on the trees, flowers and plants growing on the forest floor, the birds coming back and chirping between the branches. Tobias finished his breakfast and hummed to himself as he continued on his journey towards the ridge. He had promised himself to find out more about the Christian girls – no more making stuff up, he wanted to discover for himself what was really going on and, finally, he was on his way. He began to regret not having packed his book in case he decided to stay the night. It would be nice to sit by the campfire reading, right in the middle of the forest. He had started the next book on Emilie’s list: he had finished Lord of the Flies; he had raced through it, and swallowed every word. He didn’t know if he had understood all of it, but that made no difference. It had been good. It had made him happy. The new book was more difficult to read, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest; it was in a more adult language and Emilie had said that, if he found it too difficult, just to swap it for another one, but he intended to read all of it. It was very exciting so far. The book was about a Native American Indian, Chief Bromden, who had been admitted to a hospital which he wasn’t allowed to leave. The boss, a woman, was incredibly strict, a proper witch. Chief Bromden pretended to be a deaf mute, someone who could not hear or say anything, in order to … well, Tobias was not quite sure exactly why Chief Bromden was behaving like this, but the book was exciting all the same. He should have brought it. Leaving it behind had been a mistake.