Erlendur nodded.
“I didn’t know Holberg raped any other women. I thought I was the only one.”
“We know only about you two,” Erlendur said. “There could be others. We can’t be sure we will ever know.”
“So Audur was Einar’s half-sister,” Katrín said, deep in thought. “The poor child.”
“Are you sure you didn’t know about this?” Erlendur asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” she said. “I didn’t have the faintest idea about it.”
“Einar knows about her,” Erlendur said. “He tracked down Elín in Keflavík.”
Katrín didn’t answer. He decided to try a different question.
“If your son didn’t know anything and you never told your husband about the rape, how has Einar suddenly found out the truth now?”
“I don’t know,” Katrin said. “Tell me, how did the poor girl die?”
“You know your son is suspected of Holberg’s murder,” Erlendur said, not answering her. He tried to phrase what he had to say as carefully as he could. He thought Katrín was astonishingly calm, as if it didn’t surprise her that her son was suspected of murder.
“My son’s no murderer,” she said softly. “He could never kill anyone.”
“There’s a strong probability that he hit Holberg over the head. Maybe he didn’t intend to murder him. He probably did it in a fit of rage. He left a message for us. It said: I am him. Do you understand what that means?”
Katrín said nothing.
“Did he know Holberg was his father? Did he know what Holberg did to you? Did he know about Audur and Elín? How?”
Katrín stared into her lap.
“Where’s your son now?” Elínborg asked.
“I don’t know,” Katrín said quietly. “I haven’t heard from him for several days.”
She looked at Erlendur.
“Suddenly he found out about Holberg. He knew something wasn’t right. He found it out at work. He said we couldn’t hide any secrets these days. He said it was all in the database.”
38
Erlendur looked at Katrín.
“Is that how he got the information about his real father?” he asked.
“He discovered that he couldn’t be Albert’s son,” Katrín said in a low voice.
“How?” Erlendur asked. “What was he looking for? Why was he looking himself up in the database? Was it a coincidence?”
“No,” Katrín said. “It wasn’t a coincidence.”
Elínborg had had enough. She wanted to stop the questioning and give Katrín a break. She stood up saying she needed to fetch a glass of water and gestured to Erlendur to come with her. He followed her into the kitchen. Elínborg told him she thought the woman had been through enough for the time being and that they should leave her alone and tell her to consult a lawyer before she said anything else. They ought to save further questioning until later in the day, talk to her family and ask someone to stay with her and help her. Erlendur pointed out that Katrín hadn’t been arrested, wasn’t suspected of anything, that this wasn’t a formal interrogation, just collecting information, and that Katrín was very cooperative at the moment. They ought to continue.
Elínborg shook her head.
“Strike while the iron’s hot,” Erlendur said.
“What a thing to say!” Elínborg hissed.
Katrín appeared at the kitchen door and asked if they should continue. She was ready to tell them the truth and not conceal anything this time.
“I want to get it over with,” she said.
Elínborg asked whether she wanted to contact a lawyer, but Katrín said no. She said she didn’t know any lawyers and had never had occasion to consult one. Didn’t know how to go about it.
Elínborg looked accusingly at Erlendur. He asked Katrín to continue. When they had all sat down Katrín resumed her story. She wrung her hands and sadly began her story.
Albert was going abroad that morning. They got up very early. She made coffee for them both. They talked yet again about selling the house and buying somewhere smaller. They’d often talked about this, but had never got round to it. Maybe it seemed like too big a step, as if underlining how old they were. They didn’t feel old, but it seemed an increasingly pressing matter for them to buy a smaller place. Albert said he would talk to an estate agent when he came back, and then he left in his Cherokee.
She went back to bed. She didn’t have to go to work for two hours, but she couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay there tossing and turning until eight o’clock. Then she got up. She was in the kitchen when she heard Einar come in. He had a key to the house.
She could tell at once that he was upset but she didn’t know why. He said he’d been up all night. Paced the sitting room and went into the kitchen but refused to sit down.
“I knew there was something that didn’t fit,” he said, and gave his mother an angry look. “I knew it all the time!”
She couldn’t understand what he was angry about.
“I knew something didn’t bloody fit,” he repeated almost shouting.
“What are you talking about, love,” she said, unaware of why he was angry. “What doesn’t fit?”
“I cracked the code,” he said. “I broke the rules to crack the code. I wanted to see how the disease is passed on through families – and it is passed on through families, I can tell you that. It’s in several families, but it’s not in our family. Not in Dad’s family and not in yours. That’s why it doesn’t fit. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Erlendur’s mobile phone rang in his coat pocket and he asked Katrín to excuse him. He went into the kitchen to answer it. It was Sigurdur Óli.
“The old girl from Keflavík’s looking for you,” he said, without introducing himself.
“The old girl? Do you mean Elín?”
“Yes, Elín.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yes,” Sigurdur Óli said. “She said she needed to talk to you straightaway.”
“Do you know what she wants?”
“She flatly refused to tell me. How are you doing?”
“Did you give her my mobile number?”
“No.”
“If she calls again give her my number,” Erlendur said and hung up. Katrín and Elínborg were waiting for him in the sitting room.
“Sorry,” he said to Katrín. She continued her story.
Einar paced the sitting room. Katrín tried to calm him down and work out what had made her son so upset. She sat down and asked him to sit beside her, but he wouldn’t listen. Walked back and forth in front of her. She knew he’d been having problems for a long time and that the separation didn’t help. His wife had left him. She wanted a fresh start. She didn’t want to be overwhelmed by his sorrow.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.
“So much, Mum, just so much.”
And then came the question she’d been waiting for all these years.
“Who’s my dad?” her son asked and stopped in front of her. “Who’s my real father?”
She looked at him.
“We haven’t got any secrets any more, Mum,” he said.
“What have you found out?” she asked. “What have you been up to?”
“I know who isn’t my father,” he said, “and that’s Dad.” He roared with laughter. “Did you hear that? Dad isn’t my dad! And if he isn’t my dad, who am I then? Where did I come from? My brothers. Suddenly they’re just half-brothers. Why haven’t you ever told me anything? Why have you lied to me all this time? Why? Why?”
She stared at him and her eyes filled with tears.
“Did you cheat on Dad?” he asked. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. Did you cheat on him? No-one need know except the two of us but I have to hear it from you. You have to tell me the truth. Where do I come from? How was I made?”
He stopped talking.
“Am I adopted? An orphan? What am I? Who am I? Mum?”
&nb
sp; Katrín burst into tears with heavy sobs. He stared at her, just beginning to calm down, while she wept on the sofa. It took him some time to register how much his words had upset her. Eventually he sat down and put his arm around her. They sat for a while in silence until she started to tell him about the night in Húsavík when his father was at sea. She was out with her girlfriends and met some men, including Holberg, who burst into her house. He listened to her story without interruption.
She told him how Holberg had raped her and threatened her and she’d decided for herself to have the baby and never tell anyone what had happened. Not his father and not him. And that had been fine. They’d lived a happy life. She hadn’t allowed Holberg to rob her of her happiness. He hadn’t managed to kill her family.
She told him that, though he was the son of the man who raped her, that didn’t prevent her from loving him as much as her other two sons and she knew Albert was particularly fond of him. So Einar had never suffered for what Holberg did. Never.
It took him a few minutes to digest what she’d said.
“Sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean to get angry with you. I thought you’d been cheating and that’s where I came from. I had no idea about the rape.”
“Of course not,” she said. “How could you have known? I’ve never told anyone until now.”
“I should have seen that possibility too,” he said. “There was another possibility, but I didn’t consider it. Sorry. You must have felt terrible all these years.”
“You shouldn’t think about that,” she said. “You shouldn’t suffer for what that man did.”
“I’ve already suffered for it, Mum,” he said. “Endless torment. And not just me. Why didn’t you have an abortion? What stopped you?”
“Oh Lord, God, don’t say that, Einar. Never talk like that.”
Katrín stopped.
“Didn’t you ever consider an abortion?” Elínborg asked.
“All the time. Always. Until it was too late. I thought about it every day after I found out I was pregnant. Anyway, the child could well have been Albert’s. That probably made all the difference. And then I got depressed after the birth. Postnatal depression, isn’t it? I was sent for psychiatric treatment. After three months I was well enough again to look after the boy and I’ve loved him ever since.”
Erlendur waited a moment before he continued his questioning.
“Why did your son start looking up genetic diseases in the Research Centre’s database?” he asked eventually.
Katrín looked at him.
“How did that girl from Keflavík die?” she asked.
“Of a brain tumour,” Erlendur said. “The disease is called neurofibromatosis.”
Katrín’s eyes filled with tears and she heaved a deep sigh.
“Didn’t you know?” she said.
“Didn’t I know what?”
“Our little love died three years ago,” Katrín said. “For no reason. Absolutely no reason.”
“Your little love?” Erlendur said.
“Our little sweetheart,” she said. “Einar’s daughter. She died. The poor, sweet child.”
39
A deep silence fell across the house.
Katrín was sitting with her head bowed. Elínborg looked first at her and then at Erlendur, thunderstruck. Erlendur stared into space and thought about Eva Lind. What was she doing now? Was she at his flat? He felt the urge to talk to his daughter. Felt the urge to hug her, snuggle up to her and not let go until he’d told her how much she meant to him.
“I can’t believe it,” Elínborg said.
“Your son’s a genetic carrier, isn’t he?” Erlendur said.
“That was the phrase he used,” Katrín said. “A genetic carrier. They both are. He and Holberg. He said he inherited it from the man who raped me.”
“But neither of them got ill,” Erlendur said.
“It seems to be the females who become ill,” Katrín said. “The males carry the disease, but don’t necessarily show any symptoms. But it comes in all kinds of forms, I can’t explain it. My son understands it. He tried to explain it to me, but I didn’t really know what he was talking about. He was heartbroken. And so was I of course.”
“And he found all this out from that database they’re making,” Erlendur said.
Katrín nodded.
“He couldn’t understand why his little girl got the disease so he started looking for it in my family and Albert’s. He talked to relatives and just wouldn’t give up. We thought it was his way of dealing with the shock. All that endless searching for the cause. Searching for answers where we didn’t think there were any answers to be found. They split up some time ago, Lára and him. They couldn’t live together any longer and decided on a temporary separation, but I can’t see things ever improving.”
Katrín stopped talking.
“And then he found the answer,” Erlendur said.
“He became convinced that Albert wasn’t his father. He said it couldn’t be right according to the information he had from the database. That’s why he came to me. He thought I’d been unfaithful and that was where he came from. Or that he was adopted.”
“Did he find Holberg in the database?”
“I don’t think so. Not until later. After I told him about Holberg. It was so absurd. So ridiculous! My son had made a list of his possible fathers and Holberg was on it. He could trace the disease back through certain families using the genetics and genealogy databases and he found out he couldn’t be his father’s son. He was a deviation. A different strain.”
“How old was his daughter?”
“She was seven.”
“It was a brain tumour that caused her death, wasn’t it?” Erlendur said.
“Yes.”
“She died of the same disease as Audur. Neurofibromatosis.”
“Yes. Audur’s mother must have felt terrible; first Holberg, and then her daughter dying.”
Erlendur hesitated for a moment.
“Kolbrún, her mother, committed suicide three years after Audur died.”
“My God,” Katrín sighed.
“Where’s your son now?” Erlendur asked.
“I don’t know,” Katrín replied. “I’m worried sick he’ll do something terrible to himself. He feels so depressed, the boy. So terrible.”
“Do you think he’s been in contact with Holberg?”
“I don’t know. I just know he’s no murderer. That I know for certain.”
“Did you think he looked like his father?” Erlendur asked and looked at the confirmation photographs.
Katrín didn’t answer.
“Could you see a resemblance between them?” Erlendur asked.
“Come on, Erlendur,” Elínborg snapped, unable to take any more of this. “Don’t you think you’ve gone far enough, seriously?”
“Sorry,” Erlendur said to Katrín. “I’m just being nosy. You’ve been extremely helpful to us and if it’s any consolation I doubt that we’ll ever find a more steadfast or stronger character than you, being able to suffer in silence for all those years.”
“It’s all right,” Katrín said to Elínborg. “Children can take after anyone in the family. I could never see Holberg in my boy. He said it wasn’t my fault. Einar told me that. I wasn’t to blame for the way his daughter died.”
Katrín paused.
“What will happen to Einar?” she asked. She wasn’t putting up any resistance now. No lies. Only resignation.
“We have to find him,” Erlendur said, “talk to him and hear what he has to say.”
He and Elínborg stood up. Erlendur put on his hat. Katrín remained on the sofa.
“If you want I can talk to Albert,” Erlendur said. “He stayed at Hotel Esja last night. We’ve been watching your house since yesterday in case your son happend to turn up. I can explain to Albert what’s going on. He’ll come to his senses.”
“Thank you,” Katrín said. “I’ll phone him. I know he’ll come back. We need
to stand together for the sake of our boy.”
She stared Erlendur in the eye.
“He is our boy,” she said. “He always will be our boy.”
40
Erlendur didn’t expect Einar to be at home. They went to his flat on Stóragerdi straight from Katrín’s house. It was noon and the traffic was heavy. On the way, Erlendur phoned Sigurdur Óli to describe the developments. They needed to ask the public about Einar’s whereabouts. Find a photograph of him to put in the papers and on television along with a short announcement. They arranged to meet on Stóragerdi. When Erlendur arrived there he got out of the car and Elínborg drove off. Erlendur waited a while for Sigurdur Óli. The flat was in the basement of a three-storey house with the front door at street level. They rang the bell and hammered on the door but there was no answer. They tried the floors above and it turned out that Einar rented from the owner of one of the other flats, who had come home for lunch but was willing to go down with them and open his tenant’s flat. He said he hadn’t seen Einar for several days, possibly even a week; said he was a quiet man, had no complaints about him. He always paid the rent promptly. Couldn’t imagine what the police wanted him for in the first place. In order to avoid speculation, Sigurdur Óli said his family hadn’t heard from him and they were trying to find out where he might be. The owner of the flat asked whether they had a warrant to search the house. They didn’t, but would get one later that day. They asked him to excuse them when he had opened the door and they went inside. All the curtains were closed so it was dark inside. It was a very small flat. A sitting room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. Carpets everywhere except in the bathroom and the kitchen, which had linoleum. A television in the sitting room. A sofa in front of the television. The air in the flat was muggy. Instead of opening the curtains Erlendur switched on the sitting-room light so that they could see better.
They stared at the walls in the flat and looked at each other. The walls were covered with words they knew so well from Holberg’s flat, written with ballpoint pen, felt-tip and spray paint. Three words that had once been indecipherable to Erlendur but now became clear.
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