It was another punch in what was already a difficult situation.
Miriam was very concerned about keeping as low a profile at my workplace as possible and had never left a telephone message before. She was also well aware that I did not particularly like Danielsen and had herself not formed a very good opinion of him when they had met briefly during a previous investigation. So the fact that she had left a message with him was surprising enough in itself. The content of the message made it even more unsettling. The ominous possibility that she might have heard that I had been in contact with Patricia again crossed my mind.
For a few moments, I forgot the murder mysteries, the suspicions of espionage and worry about tomorrow’s headlines. My mind and body froze.
Far off in the distance I heard Danielsen’s voice say: ‘She sounded very agitated. But of course I did not ask what it was about, as I presumed it was of a personal nature.’
The words were friendly, as was the voice, but I detected a forced kindness that left a bad taste in my mouth – which was only made worse by the pat he gave me on the shoulder. Danielsen worked hard, and as far as anyone in the station knew, had not had a girlfriend since the mid-sixties. He was well known for his quiet schadenfreude when things were not going well in his colleagues’ relationships.
I said that it was probably personal, but there was no need to worry. I could tell by Danielsen’s smile that he did not believe me, which I could understand, as I did not entirely believe it myself. But whatever the case, I could not bear to see or hear any more of Danielsen right now. So I thanked him for the message, and with a stiff smile, wished him a pleasant evening shift before slipping quickly into my office.
The wall clock showed thirty-three minutes past six. I grabbed the phone and called the halls of residence. But the phone was not answered by Miriam or anyone else. I called the number twice and let it ring for a long time, without it making any difference.
So I rang Patricia instead. She answered on the second ring. It felt good to hear her familiar voice, even though all she said was: ‘Yes, it’s me.’
So I quickly said that there was a good deal of new information, but we were still not any closer to solving the case. I still had a lot to do, so I did not know when I might be able to call her or drop by.
She said with a degree of tension in her voice that she would try to be available for me for the next couple of hours, wished me luck, and hung up.
It was now nearly twenty to seven. I hurried out of my office and then out of the station. I was very unsure of what was about to happen, but one thing was clear and that was that under no circumstances could I not be home by seven o’clock this evening.
XIV
I opened the door to the flat at five to seven. It was dark, quiet and empty. I was glad to be home first this time, but there was still something unnerving about the darkness.
Without a thought for the electricity bill, I turned on the lights in all the rooms. Then I went and stood by the window and looked down the road.
As I stood there, I did not doubt for a moment that Miriam would come. She was sometimes a couple of minutes later than agreed, when the bus was delayed, or she had missed the one she planned to take. But she had never not come as agreed. And I was convinced that she would come on time today given that she had suggested the time herself.
With every minute that passed I became increasingly worried about what Miriam would have to say when she came. I had only one cause for guilt and one secret from her, but it felt heavier and more treacherous by the second.
It seemed to me that the most likely explanation was that Miriam had somehow found out about my renewed contact with Patricia. In which case, no matter how well I now knew Miriam, I was not sure at all how she would react. Anything seemed possible, from her pulling a face and accepting that it was necessary, to her threatening to break off the engagement. Of course, I hoped that her reaction would be closer to the first, but had a horrible feeling that it might be the latter. I regretted more and more as the minutes passed and Miriam did not appear that I had not told her myself that I had been in touch with Patricia.
The minutes dragged by as I stood there alone with all my doubts and fears. The buses ran more frequently at this time of day, but delays were more often the rule than the exception. Thus it was almost impossible to guess when Miriam would come.
At two minutes to seven, I still believed she would be on time. But the clock crept up to the hour, without her appearing out of the dark.
One and a half minutes later there was a movement down on the street, but to my disappointment, it turned out to be an elderly lady from the neighbourhood walking her dog. My anxiety increased when another movement at three minutes past seven proved to be an old neighbour. I followed him with my eyes until he let himself in the front door. Miriam was still nowhere to be seen when I looked up again. I could feel my pulse racing.
At six minutes past seven, I tried another tactic. I moved away from the window and crossed the room to the telephone. It looked just as it always had and did not make a sound. I thought that it was strange that Miriam had not phoned if she knew she was going to be late, but of course she might have tried before I got home. I went back to my post by the window, with the intense wish that Miriam would now be in view.
She was not. There was not a living soul to be seen on the dark evening street.
Then I started to get annoyed that Miriam, having summoned me for seven o’clock, had not bothered to come on time herself. But this soon spilled over into fear. I felt painfully convinced that Miriam had tried to get here on time, but something out there in the dark had prevented her. The bus could have broken down, or something else equally undramatic, but as the minutes passed, I thought such an everyday occurrence was less and less likely. A numbing fear that something had happened to my fiancée overwhelmed me.
At twelve minutes past seven, I could not bear to stand by the window doing nothing any longer. I had to do something. I went over to the telephone again and with a trembling finger dialled the number of the halls of residence.
The telephone was answered by a happy-sounding voice that I recognized. It belonged to Katrine Rudolfsen, a very nice, if dialectically challenged, friend of Miriam’s who had the room next door to hers.
I did not want to worry Katrine unnecessarily, and tried to sound as calm as possible, but I thought I could feel a slight tremor in my voice as I said: ‘Hello, this is Kolbjørn Kristiansen. Is Miriam there?’
There was a few seconds’ silence before Katrine answered. And when she did, I became absolutely convinced that something serious had happened. It was not only what she said, but her voice as well.
‘No, but is she not there? How strange. I met Miriam rushing out when I came back from university about three quarters of an hour ago. I asked where she was going as we passed, and she said she was going to yours and might be out all evening. It’s a bit strange that she wouldn’t be there yet . . .’
Katrine’s voice sounded frightened. I said that she might have got delayed en route to mine, but that it was rather odd. If Miriam had left three quarters of an hour ago, she should have been here by now.
I asked Katrine to stay on the line, put down the receiver and went over to the window again. I thought it looked even darker out there than before, but could still see no one there.
So I went back to the telephone and said to Katrine that I would wait for another five minutes before driving up to the halls of residence.
I waited by the window for three minutes. Then I ran out, crossed the empty square outside the building, and got into my car.
XV
Katrine was waiting and opened the door as soon as I rang the bell, but she shook her head clumsily before I had a chance to ask anything. Miriam had neither come back nor phoned.
I suggested that, given the situation, we should perhaps look in her room to see if we could find any clues. I did not have a key, but knew that Katrine did. She said that she alrea
dy had, but had not found anything that might help explain. And nor did I when I made a quick inspection.
A pad with notes from her lectures was on the desk, but it only served to confirm that Miriam had been to the morning lecture on Norwegian language history. Beside it was a pile of novels and course books. There was nothing else lying around, and nothing was missing, as far as I could see. Her school satchel, which she had had since primary school and to which she was so charmingly and childishly attached, was standing on the floor by the desk.
It had been cloudy but dry when Miriam had left. According to Katrine she was wearing her green raincoat and was carrying the thick blue book as well as a large white envelope, but no bags or anything to indicate that she was intending to go any further than mine.
I said we should go out and see if we could find any clues on the way to the bus. Katrine nodded silently and turned towards the front door.
There was a light wind outside and it was now drizzling. Katrine’s long blonde hair was caught by the wind and her slim body was shaking. We said nothing, just walked in silent concentration along the well-known path to the bus stop, which was about two hundred yards away. Miriam had walked here a thousand times, often reading as she walked. There was no possibility whatsoever that she had got lost, despite her hopeless sense of direction.
Katrine and I walked slowly and kept our eyes open for anything unusual. We got to the main road without seeing anything out of the ordinary. And there was nothing of interest in the first few yards along the pavement.
It was just as we rounded the bend, barely thirty yards from the bus stop, that Katrine suddenly grabbed my arm and shouted: ‘Look! There! In the ditch!’
I felt how violently her hand was shaking on my arm, and wondered if I might see Miriam lying dead in the earth when I turned around. I stood paralysed by fear for a few moments before I could see anything at all.
Miriam was still nowhere to be seen, either alive or dead. But I knew what Katrine meant straightaway. And this confirmed beyond all doubt that something terrible must have happened.
At the bottom of the ditch, between two stones, in a small puddle of water, lay the thick blue book with a library bookshelf reference on the spine.
I stepped down into the ditch and carefully picked up the book. I had recognized it as soon as I saw it. And there was only one possible explanation as to how it had ended up here. It was unthinkable that Miriam had thrown the library book down or dropped it and walked on without noticing.
‘Someone has kidnapped Miriam,’ I heard myself saying. It sounded so calm and controlled but I felt anything but. In fact, it felt more like I was standing in the middle of an earthquake, my head full of chaos and the ground shaking under my feet.
I heard a faint sobbing beside me and realized that it must be Katrine. Then I heard my own voice saying that I would accompany her back to the halls of residence. I then asked her to stay put and not to panic, and I would inform the police at the station.
XVI
I was back at the station by ten to eight. My boss had been on his way home when I arrived, but immediately turned around without protest when I told him that something very serious had happened.
I stopped and thought for a moment outside my office door. Then without being able to explain why, I went over to Danielsen’s office and asked him to come in too. It somehow felt safer to have more people to talk to. Danielsen was the one who had taken the telephone call from Miriam. And as soon as I saw him I realized that he could have been the last person to have spoken to her alive.
Danielsen looked a little surprised, but got up as soon as I said I would like him to come to an important meeting.
We sat round the table in my office and I told them in short what had happened. A heavy silence descended in the room. My boss’s face did not so much as twitch.
For the first time, I felt a good deal of support from Danielsen. ‘How terrible if criminals have started to kidnap policemen’s nearest and dearest,’ he said with unexpected feeling.
We both looked at the boss, who hesitated for a while at first and then spoke very slowly and deliberately.
‘This is a very difficult situation, for several reasons. Normally, we would not start a search when someone has only been missing for a couple of hours, and it could well provoke unfavourable reactions if it becomes known that we have done so in the case of a leading policeman’s fiancée. But the circumstances undeniably give us reason to fear the worst . . .’
He stopped talking. Then he asked, in a quieter voice: ‘Has she shown any signs of depression or other illness recently? I am sorry that I have to ask, but desperate young women have done stranger things than throw away books in a ditch before committing suicide.’
For a moment I wondered if Miriam would really have been that desperate if she had heard that I had been to see Patricia. And if, then, I could live with that. But again I found it unthinkable that she would do anything like that. So I replied, in a firm and controlled manner, that Miriam had not shown any signs of being mentally unbalanced, and had to the contrary been happy and full of life in the past few days. And even though I had been working long hours, we had not had any arguments.
My boss and I now both looked at Danielsen. ‘That was more or less how she sounded on the telephone. It was a short conversation and she seemed full of life, if a little agitated, but in no way desperate or depressed,’ he said, to the point.
My boss nodded. ‘Then we shall consider this to be exceptional circumstances and start an investigation immediately without raising the alarm publicly quite yet. Kristiansen, you continue with your own investigation as before. Danielsen will lead the investigation into Miriam’s disappearance. We can discuss the matter again in the morning and update each other as and when necessary.’
I was too exhausted, too scared and too bewildered to protest. So we both said in short that we agreed. Then my boss stood up and left.
I wrote down the necessary facts, and the names and addresses of family and friends for Danielsen. I said that there was probably not much to be found where the book had fallen or at the halls of residence, but that the places should of course be searched. Then I asked him to pass on my sympathies to Miriam’s parents and to be gentle in his dealings with them.
He promised to do this. We shook each other almost warmly by the hand before he left.
Once I was alone in the office, I sat there looking at the telephone for a few seconds. My head was in turmoil. I could only remember two telephone numbers. One was Miriam’s number at the halls of residence. The other was Patricia’s. And I thought that no matter how strange it felt, there was no one other than Patricia I could turn to for help in finding my Miriam.
She picked up the telephone on the second ring, and with unusual calm, said: ‘What has happened? Are you all right?’
Her concern for me was heart-warming in the situation. I quickly replied: ‘Someone has kidnapped Miriam.’
There was silence on the other end for a few tense seconds. Then Patricia said: ‘Goodness, what on earth do they want with her?’
I felt anger bubbling up, before I realized that the question would actually be decisive in our search for the kidnappers. Patricia also pulled herself together, and hastily added: ‘I mean, either it must be because she has discovered something important herself, or to have some kind of leverage over you. I sincerely hope that it is the latter.’
Without thinking, I asked why she hoped this. The answer was like being punched in the stomach.
‘Because that would increase the chances that your fiancée is still alive.’
I was completely unable to think clearly about what might be the most likely reasons for the kidnapping. I said to Patricia that I had to see her. She replied that I was welcome any time.
XVII
When I entered Patricia’s library, I realized that the table was empty. It was something I had never experienced before. Patricia had a packet of cigarettes in her hand, but there
was not even a cup of coffee on the table. She said that if I would like anything to eat or drink, I just had to say, and I told her that I could not even face the thought at the moment.
I sat down and told her about the last few hours and Miriam’s disappearance.
Patricia seemed to be unusually unsettled by the situation. She lit a cigarette after only a few minutes and I saw that her hand was shaking. Even though the room was smoky and warm, she was still shivering. This made me even more anxious, but I was also touched by Patricia’s concern for Miriam.
‘There really are not many leads here,’ Patricia said, with a heavy sigh when I had finished.
I had to agree. Practically anyone could, in theory, have driven past and bundled Miriam into a car – especially if she was, as usual, reading as she walked. All that was needed was two people and a car. Another possibility was even more terrible: one person in a car could have stopped, shot her and then taken the body to conceal the crime.
‘Unfortunately, I think it is more likely that Miriam has been kidnapped in an attempt to render her harmless because she knows too much, rather than as possible leverage against you,’ Patricia then said, gently.
She carried on quickly before I had time to ask why she thought so.
‘Partly because kidnapping in order to exert pressure of some kind on a police officer would be tricky and entail a greater risk for the perpetrator. But it is also the matter of the book.’
It was beyond my understanding how she could deduce that from the book, and I was not in the mood to guess. So I asked what she meant. I added that the book was about languages and that Miriam had had it with her the day before as well.
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