The Running Girl

by Sara Blaedel

  Up on the road, a rescue team headed off toward the National Hospital.

  “We need to go over and tell the police what you’ve seen. It’s important that they know someone ran after Signe up on the road.”

  Jonas nodded and dried his nose on his hoodie before standing up.

  * * *

  The terrace and landing suddenly seemed too small for all the police who’d shown up, Louise thought as they came around to the front of the sailing club. She put a soothing hand on Jonas’s shoulder when she sensed him stiffening up at the sight of Signe’s mother, who lay on the ground with the officer beside her.

  Louise stood on the landing among the voices, the crying, and the chaos and thought this must be what it’s like to find yourself in the aftermath of a natural disaster. Everything was in disarray, broken, abandoned, and no one yet knew the extent of the damage.

  Two uniformed officers started gathering the children together and directing them into the sailing club’s party room.

  The children who hadn’t gotten hold of their parents were asked to call again, so they’d have an adult with them when the police recorded the names of everyone who’d been at the party.

  The young officer from before came over and stood beside Louise. He nodded toward Britt.

  “We can’t really get anything coherent out of her, but for now we’re trying first and foremost to get her to lie still until the rescue workers show up. Several of the children are saying that, yes, the assailants hit her and kicked her in the head. It looks bad, especially around her cheek and right eye, so she may have suffered a skull fracture or a serious concussion.”

  “Signe!” Britt called out in the darkness.

  Louise sensed her once again trying to get to her feet.

  “Help me, help me.”

  “Do you know the mother’s name, other than Britt?” the officer asked.

  Louise nodded and moistened her lips.

  “Her name’s Britt Fasting-Thomsen. They live up on Strandvænget,” she said, then took a deep breath. “It was a party for her daughter’s class and some students from the music school. They’re sixth graders.”

  The officer listened while keeping an eye on Britt, who’d now made it up onto her elbows.

  “Isn’t there anyone who’ll tell me if something’s happened to my daughter?” she whimpered. “I don’t know where she is. Why won’t anyone say anything?”

  Behind the Port Harbor Office, Louise saw the blue flashing lights of yet another ambulance. It had arrived without its siren on and swung in behind the trees in the parking lot. A second later, two ambulance attendants came rolling a stretcher over the uneven wooden landing. After them, frightened parents began to pour in.

  “Why don’t you tell her that her daughter’s been involved in an accident and is on her way to the hospital?” Louise asked angrily. “She has a right to know.”

  The young officer evaded her eyes. Obviously, he hadn’t imagined that Britt should be told about the accident before she arrived at the hospital herself.

  “There’s really no reason to say anything before we know how badly the girl’s been hurt.”

  “No reason!” Louise exclaimed, outraged.

  “She’ll find out anyway,” he said in his own defense. “And right now, we’re focusing on finding out what happened before that.”

  “What the hell are you thinking? Is she supposed to lie there in ignorance while her daughter may be in critical condition?”

  “It would be nice if we could track down the ones who came here and made mischief.”

  She wanted to throttle him. A woman’s twelve-year-old daughter was unconscious, placed in a neck brace, and being driven to the hospital, and this idiot called it “mischief.” Even though it wasn’t Louise’s place, nor did she want it to be, she turned around and walked over to Britt to tell her that her daughter was currently in an ambulance on her way to the National Hospital.

  “I came immediately after the accident,” she said.

  She held Britt’s hand and stroked the back of it.

  The ambulance attendants had set the stretcher on the ground and were ready to lift Britt up and push her away.

  Britt turned to the officer, who stood with his pad.

  “Why didn’t you say anything, so I could be with her?” she screamed through her tears.

  “Britt,” said Louise, trying to settle her down. “They didn’t say anything because you’re badly hurt yourself. Something’s happened to your eye, and you may have had a concussion, or in the worst case a lesion inside your head. To begin with, they had to think of your health. Once you’ve gotten to the hospital and a doctor’s seen you, you’ll find out all there is to know about Signe and how she’s doing. But for right now it’s about tending to the injuries you’ve each received and getting treatment to you as quickly as possible.”

  Louise stood up and nodded to the rescue workers that they could take her away.

  “Why don’t you go along with her?” the officer suggested.

  Louise turned to him and shook her head.

  “I have a boy who’s sitting in there and waiting for me,” she said. She nodded toward the lit-up party room. “Have you gotten hold of Ulrik Fasting-Thomsen?”

  He shook his head.

  “Not yet. He turned his cell phone off.”

  “Then you should try reception or the restaurant. They must be able to find him,” she said, irritated that he hadn’t thought of that himself.

  The officer turned, but had his cell phone to his ear while he followed the others over to the ambulance.

  * * *

  In the party room, on the tables that weren’t knocked over, there were still soft drinks and candy bowls. The music had stopped playing, but the light display continued and there were heart-shaped strings of lights along the counter of the bar. Everything else was in chaos—shattered glass and bottles on the floor.

  Children cried, others stood petrified with glazed looks in their eyes, following from a distance the scene that played out before them. Several girls hugged each other, while the boys sat with expressionless faces and looked much younger than they had when Louise saw them arrive at the party earlier in the evening.

  Jonas sat on a chair over by the wall and had saved an empty place for her.

  It was completely silent when a uniformed officer cleared his throat and began.

  “I am sorry to have to tell you that a short while ago there was a tragic accident. When Signe ran from the party, she ran out on the road right in front of a van. The driver was not able to avoid her.”

  At that moment, a pin could be heard dropping.

  “We are very interested in hearing whether any of you know any of the boys who barged into the party.”

  None of them had seen any of the older boys before.

  “Not even from school or afterschool?” the officer asked.

  No, they shook their heads, even though a couple of parents whispered to their children to see if they were really sure. Several of the children still cried. Their tears flowed freely as they sat there pale and frightened and pressed themselves into their parents. Others sat completely passively, as if they’d gone into shock.

  “Don’t be afraid to say something,” one of the fathers said encouragingly. Then he looked around at the children.

  It was maybe a bit too much to ask of them, after two people had just been driven away in ambulances and they’d all had every reason to be frightened, thought Louise.

  “If we’re to have any chance of finding the one who ran after Signe, it’s important that you tell us what he or they looked like,” said another officer.

  It was soon apparent that none of the children could really remember what the big boys had looked like. They could easily recall the beginning of the party, the sailing trip, the mountain of sushi and all of Louise’s meatballs. They could also clearly remember helping Britt clear the tables and take the food out to the kitchen, and how they’d just turned on the m
usic when the big kids suddenly burst in. But after that, things faded into a foggy haze that none of the children could quite find their way through.

  Nor was anyone entirely sure they’d seen someone running after Signe; maybe they’d just thought they had because Jonas had seen someone. He, on the other hand, was quite sure. A single boy had chased her. He was tall and had his hair in a ponytail.

  “Black hair and black clothes, but he had white tennis shoes on,” Jonas elaborated when the officer asked him for a description. He said he remembered the shoes because he saw them disappear in the dark.

  “Signe ran when two of them started kicking her mother,” he said. “At first, she wanted to make them stop, but when they kept on, she wanted to get help. That’s when the one with the ponytail suddenly ran after her. She was probably scared and was trying to get away from him.”

  “Can you remember what the others looked like?”

  “They looked more normal.”

  “Two of them had those big tattoos that go all the way up the neck,” said a boy sitting over by the door.

  “Yeah, and one of the tattoos went like this out of the side of his neck,” said Jonas and demonstrated with his hand. “The other had one on his neck, a big tattoo that sorta disappeared up under his hair. He’s the one who kicked Signe’s mom in the head.”

  The officers looked around until they were sure no one else had anything more to add. Then they asked everyone to give their name, address, and telephone number before leaving the sailing club.

  Most of the children were deathly pale and quiet, while several of the parents expressed their outrage over such a brutal attack happening at a party where the children were only in the sixth grade.

  “I have just one more thing,” the young officer said before the excited voices could grow too loud. “We’ve called in two of the National Hospital’s crisis counselors, and we recommend that you speak with them before you drive home. It would be a healthy thing for all of you after what’s happened here tonight, and there will also be opportunities for follow-up sessions.”

  It was mostly the mothers who nodded gratefully and stood up to take advantage of the offer. The fathers still seemed more taken up with their discussion of how the older boys could even conceive of attacking a woman right before the eyes of a whole group of children. Soon the majority of parents were standing and talking in small groups, while the children were left to themselves; most of them looked like they just wanted to go home.

  Louise heard a couple of the mothers start shutting everything down in the party room. They’d come back the next day and clean up, once they’d talked it over with Ulrik.

  She was beginning to slip over to the door, didn’t really know any of the others, and suddenly she remembered Britt’s invitation to stay and drink a glass of wine with the parents when their children were being picked up. Only a few hours ago her plans had looked quite different.

  She stood in the dark on the pier, feeling the fresh air and watching the sailboats bob. The light from the sailing club’s windows glimmered on the water. She decided she’d better push up Jonas’s appointment with Jakobsen, the crisis counselor who was connected to the Homicide Department. Since his father’s death he’d had regular sessions with him.

  “Can I go home with Lasse?” he asked when he came out to her in the dark.

  Louise looked at him in surprise.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather the two of us go home and talk a little about what you’ve just gone through down here?”

  He shook his head quickly.

  “I want to go with him, because then you can go to the hospital and find out how Signe and her mom are doing,” he said. He paused briefly. “Otherwise, nobody’s with them.”

  “There are others here who know them much better than I do,” said Louise.

  “Yeah, but they’re not in the police,” he pointed out. “So, they’re not as good as you are at finding things out.”

  Louise thought it over. She put her arm around him and turned him so they faced each other.

  “Jonas,” she said quietly. “Signe wasn’t conscious when the ambulance picked her up. You need to prepare yourself that this could be very serious. That’s why I think it’s better if we go home together.”

  He already knew it was bad. She could see it on him.

  “Won’t you please go down there anyway,” he begged. “You know something about that stuff and they’ll let you stay there till her dad comes.”

  She could tell that he was holding his breath, trying to keep himself from crying. Then Lasse came over and asked if he was going with them.

  Jonas hurried a nod, but Louise waited until the friend’s father came out so she could ask him whether he thought it was a good idea.

  “I understand if you’re worried, but my wife’s a psychologist,” he said. “I’m positive she won’t let the boys go to bed before they’ve talked it all through.”

  “Fine,” said Louise. “Then I’ll go to the National Hospital and stay until Ulrik gets there. I have my cell phone on, so call if there’s anything. Or if you’d like me to come and get Jonas.”

  “What kind of delinquents are they anyhow who’d do something like this?” asked Lasse’s father. He shook his head sadly as they walked along the landing.

  In the parking lot, she gave Jonas a long hug, and he promised to call if he wanted to go home after all.

  “And you’ll call, too, when you know something, right?” he said, looking at her earnestly. “Even if I’m sleeping.”

  She brushed her hand through his hair.

  “Of course. I’ll call,” she promised. “But we might not find anything out tonight. So, don’t you stay up, either.”

  9

  The hotel room was dark and cool, the air conditioner hummed, and Camilla cursed her luck for having been too tired to remember to turn it off before she and Markus went to bed. But when they finally hit the sack in their Seattle hotel, they’d been awake for the better part of thirty-six hours. By that point, she’d barely been able to spell their names for the hotel receptionist.

  She rested a bit with her eyes closed. When she swallowed, she felt a sharp pain in her throat. Her nose was stuffed up.

  Over in the bed beside the thick window curtains, Markus lay with his mouth slightly open and snored quietly. It warmed her heart, but the rest of her body was cold and tired, as if a flu had snuck in and was invading all her muscles.

  Her twelve-year-old son had been so terrific for the rest of the trip. The sad and sulky boy had disappeared. He even kept a stiff upper lip when Camilla very nearly lost her patience after a loudspeaker in the Chicago airport announced that their flight to Seattle had a two-hour delay. At that point, they’d already waited for three.

  Camilla had immediately stood up to go find someone to complain to, but Markus took hold of her arm. Shouldn’t they just play cards? he asked. Then he dove into his bag and rummaged through the books, empty candy bags, and magazines he’d gotten from his father until he found the playing cards and some more candy. He cleared off a seat so they’d have a chair between them.

  Fuming with anger and feeling exhausted, she collapsed back into her seat while he shuffled the cards and asked if she wanted to deal. Then they spent hours playing rummy and eating all the candy Tobias had sent with his son.

  Camilla rested a little and looked up at the ceiling. The more exhausted she’d gotten on the trip, the more she’d started to doubt. The uncertainty ate away at her. No definite plans—just a car to pick up and a return flight from Los Angeles at the end of November.

  Two months was a lot of time to kill. Maybe too long for her and Markus to be alone together. But at the same time, it felt like a relief to get away. A solace for the soul to be free from all the disturbing memories and all the well-meaning words that constantly reminded her that she was on the brink of a breakdown. As if she’d forget that.

  Her recent past had been hellish, and the one thing she wouldn’t h
ave was for her state of mind to affect Markus. And since her son had been the hardest hit by seeing his mother go to bits and pieces, the decision hadn’t been so difficult. Because there hadn’t really been any alternative. Camilla knew she had to mentally extend herself over a cliff’s edge in order to move on and get some distance from Kaj Antonsen, the drunk from down in Halmtorvet for whose death she was indirectly to blame.

  It was mostly the guilt that had taken hold of her like some insidious virus. She hadn’t known Kaj for more than an afternoon and an evening, but even so he’d wormed his way into her heart. She’d fallen for him and his self-exile in the world of alcohol, with Johnny Cash coming through the speakers and a bottle of beer or something stronger in his hand. She’d even been tempted to try his brand of oblivion, but knew that shortcut wouldn’t work for her.

  Her thoughts found their way back to Stenhøj Church and Henrik Holm’s tragic death. She’d always been a couple of steps behind. Now, whenever she was too weak to fight off the thoughts and feelings, the guilt got to her.

  Her mother had rushed over from Jutland when the crisis counselor from the National Hospital decided to move Camilla to the open ward of the psychiatric unit, where he was head physician. She’d been there a month before he’d finally seen fit to release her. And that only came about because her mother promised to live with her daughter and take care of her grandchild for the next fourteen days. That way, they’d be in a calm place and could decide whether Camilla had the strength and wherewithal to live alone with the boy.

  Then, when she did come home, e-mails, texts, and Facebook messages poured in. It had nearly made her sick. She didn’t have a single moment to distance herself from her breakdown.

  Her editor, Terkel Høyer, had been nice enough to send good, old-fashioned snail mail because he knew it took a little more effort to make it to the wastepaper basket than to hit delete. She knew he meant well. In fact, he was the one who suggested she get away for a while—although, he was probably thinking more like a week or two.