The Lost Woman

by Sara Blaedel

  “He might come in through the utility room. He could be down at the lake with his dog, so be aware of that,” Jørgensen cautioned the female officer.

  “And inform him that he’ll be offered police protection,” Louise added. “And mention that it might be best for him to stay with family.” She nodded when Jørgensen asked if he should write her cell phone number on his card, so their North Zealand colleagues had both numbers.

  * * *

  Louise’s phone rang on the way back to Copenhagen. It was almost two; they had decided to stop someplace to pick up a few sandwiches.

  “I’m sitting here with someone who wants to talk to you,” Camilla said. “Are you at the office?”

  “I’m on the road. Can I call later?”

  “Where can we meet? It’s important.”

  Louise had the impression her friend was also driving somewhere. “Where are you?”

  “On the freeway, but we’ll be in town in half an hour. Would it be better if we stop by your place?”

  “Who’s with you? We’re busy as hell.” Louise was annoyed; Camilla always wanted things to happen right here and now.

  “Stephanie Parker is sitting beside me. She came to Denmark to look for her father, and I think it’s a really good idea for you two to have a talk. As I understand it, you’ve met before. Steph saw the man who shot her mother; she’ll be able to help you.”

  “Stephanie! What in the hell is she doing here?” Louise blurted out, before she realized that Stephanie also could hear her. “Police Headquarters, in a half hour.” She hung up.

  “Jesus! Stephanie Parker is in Denmark,” she told Jørgensen. Adrenaline surged through her body; she was worried.

  “Sofie Parker’s daughter? Why is she here?”

  The nagging doubt she’d been trying to bury was back. Of course Eik hadn’t shot his ex-girlfriend, she was sure of that. But what did she actually know?

  “Steph is Eik’s daughter. She disappeared from her home several days ago. She’s Jonas’s age, but she’s never met her father. Eik didn’t even know he had a child until recently.”

  Her old partner looked over, obviously startled by the news. But she was grateful he didn’t ask any more questions.

  26

  They’d just arrived back at Homicide when Suhr stopped Louise and asked her to come into his office. His forehead was deeply furrowed; he looked tired. And old, Louise thought, as he told her to sit down.

  “Michael Stig has gone home.” He sank into his high-backed office chair. “It’s serious. I’ve had this feeling that the pressure was getting to him, but whenever I asked him about it he convinced me he could handle it. These shootings have been brutal on all of us. And now there’s another one.”

  He seemed sad, as if he were responsible for the head of investigations letting them down. But then he is, of course, Louise thought. Responsible. He had recommended Michael Stig for the job after Willumsen’s death.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “We were in my office, preparing for the press briefing later this afternoon. He was going to update the media, also on the Hvidovre homicide. Suddenly he stood up and left the office, and when he didn’t come back I went out to look for him. I found him sitting at his desk, staring into space. He didn’t react when I came in, he just sat there clicking his pen, like he always does when he’s listening. But no one was talking.”

  “Did you send him home?” Louise was surprised and a bit shaken.

  “I called Jakobsen, the stress counselor, and he put him on sick leave, starting today. He’s out of the picture.”

  Louise didn’t know what to say. Stig going down from stress was the last thing she’d expected. Not that she doubted Homicide’s stress counselor and his diagnosis, not that Stig couldn’t have too much on his plate. But her ex-colleague had always been disapproving of human weakness. And now he was showing it.

  “Can you head up the investigation on the hospice nurse homicides, while I calm my bosses down? Naturally they’re very worried, what with Stig taking over after me, as I’m sure you’ve heard. And you already head up a department, you’re qualified,” he added, before she could object.

  “As long as Rønholt goes along with it, it’s okay by me.” Louise scanned her emotions for some small rush of joy, but nothing showed up. All she registered was Eik. She put that aside and asked Suhr to inform the rest of the team that they would be reporting to her, and that they all would meet after the briefing at 6:00 p.m.

  * * *

  A message was waiting for Louise when she returned to the office: Jørgensen and Toft were questioning the three hospice nurses who had been brought in to the station. They were in the offices next door. The undertaker had just arrived, but there was still no sign of Sørensen. North Zealand Police had pulled the officers stationed at his house, but they would drive by again that evening. And they still hadn’t found the last hospice nurse, Anita Nielsen, who lived in a house in Hedehusene. Else Corneliussen had agreed to scan her photo of the woman and send it to them, after which they would put out an APB for her.

  Louise had just sat down when the front desk called and said she had a visitor.

  “Hi, Steph,” Louise said, walking up to the black-haired girl. Steph had pulled her hands up into the sleeves of her leather jacket, and her scarf was pulled tightly around her neck, covering the lower half of her face. “Good to see you again. Are you cold?”

  Louise herself felt both warm and cold inside at the sight of Eik’s daughter standing there, shuffling her feet in the freezing weather. Suddenly she saw how much the girl resembled a young Eik in the photo his parents had. At the same time, she looked like a desperate, insecure young girl in black makeup, with no one to hold on to. She had left home without knowing the first thing about who she was looking for. What if she didn’t like Eik when she met him? What if she was disappointed because she’d been expecting something else? And what if she was rejected? Louise couldn’t bear the thought.

  “I promised Stephanie I’d help find her father,” Camilla said.

  “Steph! My name is Steph, not Stephanie,” Steph mumbled, without looking up.

  Louise nodded. Before she could ask how Steph and Camilla had found each other, Camilla explained that Steph had made her way to the manse in Jutland, where some of her mother’s old documents were still stored.

  “This young lady is awesome,” Camilla said. “I explained about us being friends and all.”

  “Are you hungry, Steph?” Louise said, waiting to see if they should drop by the cafeteria before heading for her office.

  The girl shook her head.

  Back in the office, Louise said, “We’d better tell the English police you’re here and you’re safe. They’re worried about you. I understand you saw the man who shot your mother.”

  “Yes.” Steph sat down on the chair Camilla brought over to her.

  “You can probably imagine I have a lot of questions to ask. Are you okay with that?”

  The girl nodded.

  Louise sat down at her desk. “I’d like you to look at a photo, so we can clear up whether it was the man you saw that evening.”

  “Fine.” Steph nodded. Suddenly she looked like a small, lost girl wearing way too much makeup. Her emo look—a full purple skirt, black leggings with neon-green polka dots with holes in them, a large zippered leather jacket, and Dr. Martens boots—only strengthened that impression. Louise gathered herself for a moment before bringing out a print of Eik’s photo from the Search Department’s intranet.

  “That’s not him,” Sofie’s daughter said, after a single look at the photo. “He doesn’t look at all like that.”

  The hairs on the back of Louise’s neck rose, a wave of relief streaming through her. She glanced over at a smiling Camilla.

  “Who is he?” Steph asked, when she noticed the two women exchanging glances. She grabbed the picture and studied it.

  Louise took a deep breath. Eik should have been the one to tell he
r, but now she had no choice. “It’s your father.” Steph had laid the photo back down. Now she reached for it again, but she stopped herself and simply studied his face. She pushed the photo back at Louise.

  “Where is he?” Was she happy or disappointed? It was impossible to tell.

  Louise leaned forward and folded her hands on her desk. Camilla watched her, waiting for her to speak. “He’s in England.”

  “What’s he doing there?” The girl looked surprised and somewhat annoyed.

  “Actually, I think he went over there to find you, after he heard you’d disappeared,” Louise said.

  “Are you telling me my father knows I exist? Why hasn’t he been looking for me?”

  “He’s known about you only a short time. Your mother contacted him because she wanted you two to meet.” Suddenly Louise realized she’d become the mediator between Eik and the girl’s dead mother.

  “How do you know all this?” The girl’s voice softened, and her dark eyes showed a trace of hope and vulnerability. Clearly she was curious, yet defiant, too, and uncertain about which of the two emotions she should give in to.

  “What did you say his name was?” she said, looking at Louise.

  “His name is Eik Nordstrøm. He’s a policeman; he works for the Search Department.”

  “Does he have other children?”

  Louise shook her head. “Only you.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Louise was surprised to see Rønholt step inside.

  “Excuse me,” her boss said, when he saw they were talking. He eyed Steph for a moment, then he said, “Just wanted to let you know, Eik has just landed at Kastrup. He was released this morning after I sent them proof that he was here in Denmark when Sofie Parker was shot.”

  “Released?” Steph looked back and forth between Louise and Camilla.

  “He’s been in jail in Bristol, suspected of killing your mother,” Louise explained.

  “All of you thought my father had killed my mother?” she asked in disbelief.

  “We didn’t think so,” Louise said, “but the English police did, and we had to prove otherwise before they would release him.”

  “If I hadn’t come to Denmark, they probably wouldn’t have arrested him,” Steph said, annoyed now. “I could’ve told the police he doesn’t look at all like the man who shot her.” Quietly she added, “He was a lot older.”

  Louise nodded and said it might have saved her father from being arrested. “Actually, though, I think the English police were just getting sick of him; he was a pain in the ass to them while he was searching for you. I’m sure they weren’t unhappy he was behind bars.” She smiled at Stephanie.

  “We think your mother’s murder is linked to three other murders here in Denmark over the past few months,” she continued. “It looks like the weapon used here was the hunting rifle used to kill your mother.”

  “Does that mean the man who shot my mother is here in Denmark?” Something in the young girl’s eyes changed.

  Louise hesitated a moment before nodding. “It’s very likely.” She wondered if she should call in Jakobsen to talk to the girl. It was nearly unforgivable that she hadn’t been offered crisis counseling.

  “Eik’s coming here as soon as he leaves the airport,” Rønholt said.

  “Would you please send him straight up here?” Louise asked. Suddenly Steph was very quiet. As if she was getting nervous, now that she would soon be meeting her father.

  Rønholt nodded. For a moment he studied the young girl again. Louise could almost read his mind, but he said nothing.

  On his way out, he almost ran into Toft, holding the photo of Erik Hald Sørensen and his wife that Louise had taken from his house.

  “I made a copy,” he said. He laid the original down on the desk. “I also received a photo of Anita Nielsen. The quality isn’t good, but it’s usable.”

  Louise nodded. “Put an APB out for her, all police districts. We have to find them and bring them in for protection.”

  “I’ve assembled a team,” he said. “We’re contacting families and friends and former coworkers to hear if they know where they might be. I hope that’s okay with you, even though it cuts down on our personnel.”

  “Of course,” Louise said. She needed time to get used to being in charge.

  Steph was pacing around the office, but when she walked by the desk, she froze and pointed to the photo of Sørensen. “That’s him!” She took a step back, as if she had just burned herself. “He’s the one who shot my mother. I recognize his beard and hair.”

  Louise was startled, but when she saw how pale the girl’s face was, she plopped down into a chair and stared in the direction of the photo. “Are you sure?”

  The girl’s face closed up, as if she was used to adults not really believing her.

  Camilla had been sitting silently in the corner, but now she said, “Of course it’s him, Steph said so.” She stood up and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  Louise tried to shut everyone out for a moment to concentrate and form a scenario.

  “Why did he kill my mother?” Steph asked. “Who is he? What’s going on?” She began crying.

  Fragments from interrogations, her visits to Birkerød, and statements from witnesses swirled in Louise’s head. Finally she shook them off and concentrated on the girl, who stared at her in despair, tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t have any answers for you. Not that I don’t believe you when you say he shot her, but this turns everything upside down.”

  She looked up at Toft, who was still standing in the doorway. “We have to warn Else Corneliussen and the others. And we need surveillance on Anita Nielsen’s house in Hedehusene. Send two squad cars out, now. Pull everything we have on Sørensen out of our files.”

  She directed her last order at Jørgensen, back in the office and at his computer now after questioning the hospice nurses.

  Camilla stood up when she sensed that things were getting hectic. “Why don’t we go into another office?” she said to Stephanie. She glanced at Louise. “I’ll stick around with her until Eik shows up.”

  The girl turned to Camilla. “You don’t need to wait. I’d like to be alone for a while. If this Eik…my father comes, then…”

  “You’re sure?” Camilla said. The girl nodded and grabbed the card Camilla handed her.

  “Okay, then I’ll head back to the paper,” she said to Louise. “Terkel has been holding a two-page spread for me, and I haven’t written a line. But call if you need me.”

  “I will.” Louise was holding her phone to her ear, distracted by all that was going on.

  Suhr came into the office; he’d met Toft out in the hallway. “I hear you have a suspect.”

  Louise hung up and nodded. “Everyone’s out looking for Erik Hald Sørensen.” Suddenly the weight of responsibility that came with being in charge of the investigation team hit her, along with a rush of adrenaline.

  “Are you putting out an APB?” Louise asked Jørgensen. She lifted the phone and ordered a team of forensic technicians out to Sørensen’s home.

  “We’ll need a search warrant for the suspect’s house,” she told Toft, who immediately headed for his office.

  Through all the chaos, she sensed Steph’s eyes on her. The pale young girl was studying the photo of Sørensen and his wife, which lay on the desk in front of her. “Let’s find you an office where you can wait for Eik.” She led her into Stig’s office, a few doors down the hall. “I’m sure he’ll be here before long.”

  “Fine.” The girl’s stubborn expression had returned, and Louise felt guilty about not being able to wait there with her. But maybe she really did want to be alone, as she had told Camilla.

  “Do you need anything?” Louise pointed toward the kitchen and offered her coffee, tea, or water. “There might even be a cola in the refrigerator.”

  Steph shook her head. “No thanks, nothing.”

  “I’ll be in the office, come in if you need to, but Eik will show up so
on.” She stopped for a moment and studied Steph as she sat in Stig’s high-backed office chair. “Are you okay? Is it okay to meet your father in here? Would you like us to arrange it so you can meet him somewhere else? This evening, maybe?”

  Steph narrowed her eyes a bit. “Why?” She reached for a paper clip on the desk and began straightening it out.

  “I just thought you might want to meet him someplace where it’s quiet.”

  The black-haired young girl shook her head. “I’ll wait here, it’s okay.” She fished her phone out of her pocket.

  27

  December 2013

  You wanted to talk to me?” Steph said, as she came in after tossing her school bag and leather jacket in her room.

  Sofie nodded and pointed to the living room sofa. Her daughter glanced into the kitchen, as if she was making sure they were alone.

  During breakfast, an innocent remark about a few mid-afternoon free periods at school had developed into a shouting match between Nigel and her; he thought she should stay in school and do her homework instead of going home with a girlfriend and hanging out.

  While the walls shook from the angry shouting, Sofie had realized they couldn’t go on this way. It wasn’t so much the constant quarreling, though it had begun wearing on her. But it was affecting her daughter physically. A guarded insecurity entered her eyes now whenever she and Nigel were in the same room. At the same time, her daughter knew exactly which buttons to push with him. This isn’t working, Sofie acknowledged, when her daughter stormed out and slammed the door after the argument at breakfast.

  “Do you want anything?” she asked when Steph sat down. “A sandwich, something to drink?”

  Her daughter shook her head and sat straight on the sofa, legs pulled up under her, waiting. Her fingers played restlessly with three strands hanging from the long, black scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, like some stiff collar. Black, beautiful, and mysterious. Her insecurity was gone; she seemed happy and curious.

  Where to begin? In her head, Sofie had gone through every possible way to open this conversation, one that couldn’t be put off any longer, that maybe should already have taken place.