Rupture

by Ragnar Jónasson

  Ísrún nodded again.

  ‘Wonderful. Give me a call; as soon as you like.’ Lára stood up and placed a hand on Ísrún’s shoulder. ‘Always good to see you, Ísrún.’

  ‘And you.’

  Now Ísrún was convinced that Marteinn knew more about Snorri’s murder than he would be prepared to admit. This could be something big.

  28

  They had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, exhausted with worry.

  The piercing ring of the doorbell dragged Róbert from sleep. His head ached and he could feel that the effects of his cold had become more pronounced overnight. Róbert would certainly have liked to sleep for longer, although he had managed to sleep remarkably soundly, as if he had subconsciously retreated into sleep to protect himself from the trauma of the real world.

  It was just after eight and it was Heida who had woken them.

  ‘Were you asleep?’ she asked awkwardly, shutting the door behind her and going into the living room where Sunna was stirring.

  ‘Mum and Dad are on their way back from Spain,’ Heida continued, filling the silence as Róbert said nothing. ‘They are catching a flight today through London, I think.’

  Sunna looked around in confusion, as if the previous day’s events were suddenly returning to her. She stared at her sister, consumed with worry.

  ‘Where’s Kjartan? Have they found him?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Heida replied with her usual bluntness and lack of consideration.

  Róbert found his phone and saw that there had been no missed calls. So Kjartan had not been found during the night. He looked at Sunna and shook his head. She slumped down, head in hands.

  He immediately dialled the number of the Chief Inspector running the investigation, but there was no reply.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll find him,’ Heida said, planting herself on the sofa. ‘Did Breki take him? You always did have lousy taste in men.’

  Róbert pretended he hadn’t heard, went into the kitchen and made tea. He needed something hot to start the day and wouldn’t get far without it.

  The sisters were still talking – or, rather, Heida was talking to Sunna – when he returned with a mug of tea for himself and another for Sunna.

  ‘Róbert,’ Heida said, turning to him. ‘Maybe it’s one of your old pals, from back when you were doing drugs.’

  ‘Just stop it,’ he snapped back at her.

  ‘Anyway, you should be watching over your family, making sure this kind of stuff doesn’t happen,’ she said.

  Her words stung. Róbert slammed his mug down on the table and was about to order her out of the apartment when his phone chimed.

  They all fell silent. Róbert answered.

  ‘Good morning, Róbert. I saw you were trying to get hold of me,’ the voice of the Chief Inspector said, and there was a pause. ‘We haven’t located the boy yet, but we have a few strong leads. Would you and Sunna come to the station straightaway? This is best done face to face.’

  Róbert felt his pulse quicken, beating at a rate that stole away the last shred of any peace of mind.

  ‘We’ll be right there,’ he said.

  Róbert flatly refused to allow Heida to come with them, so they left her behind in the apartment and swiftly made their way to the police station.

  They were shown into the same interview room as before. There was a jug of water and some glasses on the table, in keeping with the old chairs with their shabby upholstery and the wooden table that had seen better days.

  Róbert gestured to Sunna with the jug but she shook her head. He poured himself a glass of water.

  ‘They must have found him,’ Sunna said and smiled. ‘I’m sure of it. I’m so looking forward to seeing him again.’

  ‘Don’t forget what he said on the phone, sweetheart. They hadn’t found Kjartan then. Let’s not get our hopes up. These things take time.’

  ‘What the hell to you know about it?’ she demanded, her sudden anger taking him off guard.

  Then she looked away, as if determined to say nothing more.

  The Chief Inspector came in after a while. He looked tired; his face was unshaven and he had black circles under his eyes. This was a man who had not slept much.

  Róbert felt ashamed, now that he had managed to sleep. He should have spent the night doing what he could to help find the boy. There were plenty of old friends in the underworld he could have called on. These people were often resourceful, but deep inside Róbert knew that seeking their help would have meant taking a huge risk. He had left that part of his life behind and had no desire to re-acquaint himself with it, not even for something as important as this.

  ‘We’re making good progress,’ the Chief Inspector said, trying unsuccessfully to manage a smile.

  ‘Where is he?’ Sunna demanded.

  ‘He hasn’t been found,’ he replied. ‘We have—’

  ‘Where is Kjartan?’ Sunna yelled, suddenly on her feet. With one violent movement she swept the water jug aside, sending it smashing to the floor.

  The Chief Inspector showed no surprise. ‘Let’s stay calm, shall we?’ he said in a tone that indicated he had seen plenty of angry passion before.

  Sunna slumped back into her chair, shaking.

  ‘We have a strong suspicion who has been at work here,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘Emil Teitsson. Twenty-seven years old; a business graduate who works – or worked – for a bank.’

  ‘What? Who is this?’ Sunna asked.

  Róbert kept quiet. His cold was making it difficult for him to breathe properly through his nose. He felt that he was about to suffocate in the interview room’s stuffy atmosphere, in this lumpy yellow chair.

  ‘He seems to have gone badly off the rails two years ago, after his wife was the victim of a violent assault. She had been in a coma since the attack, but not long ago, she died.’

  ‘So why do you think he took Kjartan?’ Sunna gasped.

  ‘As you’d expect, we’ve been looking into several suspects,’ said the Chief Inspector, seeming to avoid Sunna’s question, ‘including the boy’s father – who seems to have had nothing to do with it – and, now, this Emil. We’ve gone through CCTV footage from cameras on Laugavegur. Unfortunately two out of the three cameras weren’t working, which seems to be a problem all over, now that these things are showing their age. However, on one of them we can make out a man who could be Emil. After that, we were able to get recordings from several privately owned cameras from shops along the street. From then on, it was clear. Emil was easily identified, and he was holding a small boy who fits your description of Kjartan.’

  He paused to let them digest this new information.

  ‘Where is this bastard?’ Róbert demanded.

  ‘He lives with his parents. They last saw him yesterday morning. He disappears sometimes, they say, but always reappears eventually. They’re devastated, naturally. He hasn’t been the same man since his wife was assaulted. Emil’s parents tell us she’d recently become pregnant, and lost the baby in the attack. And now she’s dead too.’

  Nobody said anything. Sunna looked down at her palms.

  ‘It seems he spent a lot of time with her at the hospital and it was a huge shock when she finally passed away,’ continued the Chief Inspector. ‘He had therapy with a psychologist for a long time, but a while ago he stopped turning up for his appointments. We’re doing everything we can to find him. His parents can hardly believe that he could have abducted a child. They say he has been bitter and angry, but they can’t believe he’d go so far as to kidnap an innocent baby; and they know him better than anyone, naturally. So now, it’s just a matter of time before we find him and Kjartan.’

  ‘Have you put out any announcements?’ Róbert asked.

  ‘We’ll do that soon.’

  ‘Why?’ Sunna asked, her voice filled despair. ‘Why Kjartan?’

  ‘We have certain theories,’ the Chief Inspector said slowly. ‘I’m not prepared to go into that now, and it’s not my main p
riority. Finding your baby comes first.’

  ‘Why did he take Kjartan?’ Sunna repeated.

  Róbert moved his chair closer to hers. ‘Let’s not think about that, now, sweetheart.’

  The Chief Inspector stood up. ‘One of you is going to have to look at the CCTV footage to confirm that it really is Kjartan. Can you do that, Sunna?’

  Róbert saw the expression on her face – or rather, he saw the blank look that said she would not be able to do it. She sat stock still, not saying a word.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.

  ‘Good. I’ll get someone to sit with Sunna in the meantime.’

  Once the formal identification was dealt with, the Chief Inspector didn’t take Róbert back to Sunna, but showed him into another interview room – even smaller, shabbier and more claustrophobic than the previous one.

  Róbert had been in no doubt that the man in the pictures was holding Kjartan. He hoped that Sunna would never have to see those images. They were innocent enough at first glance, but in the context of everything Róbert knew, they became deeply sinister.

  ‘I’m guessing you haven’t discussed your past with Sunna,’ said the Chief Inspector, sitting down. ‘She doesn’t know a thing, does she?’

  ‘No,’ Róbert said, closing his eyes and hoping that the headache that was starting to throb would not get worse. That was something he could do without, on top of everything else.

  ‘You understand that we will have to explain your links to Emil to her, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t have any links to that blasted man,’ Róbert snarled.

  ‘Suspected links, then.’ The Chief Inspector’s brows knitted in a frown. ‘We’ll work on the assumption that you’re innocent, although I have my doubts about that – serious ones. Just because there’s no evidence, doesn’t mean you’re squeaky clean. And what’s certain is that Emil doesn’t seem to think so, either; and now a little boy has disappeared.’ He paused, his frown even heavier. ‘I have to say, if I thought telling your girlfriend the whole story would help resolve this case, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But, out of consideration for her – for her, you understand, not for you – I’ll give you a chance to discuss it with her by yourselves. I’ll talk to you again later today to go over the situation. And by then, you had better have come clean, otherwise I’ll have to tell her, in my own words, just why her son was abducted by a stranger.’

  Róbert didn’t say a word as he stormed out of the room. The blank, cold walls of the corridor felt as if they were closing in on him.

  He thought of Sunna – this wonderful woman who had breathed into him new life and new hope; hope for a better life and a brighter future.

  Now he feared, and was almost certain, that his dreams were about to become a nightmare.

  29

  ‘The interview will be on TV tonight,’ Ari Thór said.

  He and Tómas were in the station’s coffee corner. Tómas had taken the previous night’s shift and had asked Ari Thór to be there for a morning meeting to discuss their next moves and the shift rota. They expected the town’s quarantine restrictions to be lifted that evening; and the news had already spread in the way it always does in a small community. Life in general had begun to return to normal and some people had gone back to work, although most companies and shops remained closed. The news had swept around the town, however, that the baker had been back at work that morning and there was fresh bread available, even though the bakery had not formally opened. There was still a shadow over the town, though, its inhabitants still numbed by the death of the nurse, who had been a popular character and a Siglufjördur resident for many years.

  ‘Interview?’ Tómas asked, his gaze distant. ‘Yes, of course. The journalist; Ísrún, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s her.’

  ‘That’s fine, my boy,’ Tómas said, his mind elsewhere. He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

  It was obvious there were things on his mind.

  ‘Are you concerned about the infection?’ Ari Thór asked. ‘Are you worried the quarantine is being lifted too early?’

  ‘What? Worried? No, not at all. But that reminds me … I talked to the hospital last night to check the situation. Old Sandra’s going downhill. You’ve been visiting her now and again these last few months, haven’t you?’

  Ari Thór nodded and felt his stomach turn over.

  ‘Yes …’ he stammered.

  ‘Won’t you go and visit her? You might be seeing her for the last time if things don’t go well. It’s an exceptionally heavy flu, but there’s no special infection hazard.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ari Thór said, avoiding Tómas’s eye.

  They sat in silence for a while.

  ‘I put …’ Tómas began, but left the sentence unfinished. He paused and tried again. ‘Listen, my boy. I put the house on the market.’

  ‘House? Your house? You’re moving?’ Ari Thór asked in astonishment.

  ‘That’s right, our house. But don’t worry. I won’t be going anywhere for a while. I had a talk with my wife and she wants me down south, to try and keep things together. So I told her I’d put the house on the market and see what happens. But I’m not sure anyone’s going to snap it up. People think you can buy a house up north for practically nothing, my boy. Maybe someone will rent it from us, you never know. But it’s advertised for sale. I just thought I’d tell you, in case you see it in the paper or on the net. Nothing’s been decided. Don’t you worry,’ he added, almost as an afterthought, and looked curiously at Ari Thór.

  But now Ari Thór really did have something to worry about.

  If Tómas were to move back south, then he would have to decide whether or not to apply for the inspector’s post at the Siglufjördur station, and he would have preferred not to have had to think about it yet. To begin with, he wanted to get his own personal life in order, to figure out where his relationship with Kristín was heading. Should he move to Akureyri to be with her, or even go with her when the time came for her to continue her studies abroad?

  He tried not to let his concerns show.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said with a smile.

  *

  Tómas had gone home. Ari Thór was alone on duty and walked down to the small-boat harbour. It was a bright day and the waters of the fjord sparkled. He even met two people out walking, and nodded to them. They nodded back, but there was a gloom about them.

  Maybe he should visit Sandra, sit with her and listen to her tales of the town as it used to be. They had become close friends, able to discuss virtually any subject. She always told him to take it easy, to not let himself get irritated by the little things in life that don’t matter, and, even though she had never met Kristín, she urged Ari Thór to hold on to her tight.

  Thinking about Sandra reminded him that he had meant to get in touch with Hédinn before the interview was aired; it would be as well to do that right away.

  He strolled along the wooden dock with his phone to his ear, waiting for Hédinn to answer, watching the colourful boats rocking peacefully at the quayside. It almost felt as if there might be a touch of spring in the air, but Ari Thór knew that this still air could be treacherous and that the weather might well take a turn for the worse before spring reached Siglufjördur.

  The phone was at last answered. ‘Hello,’ Hédinn said.

  ‘Hello, Hédinn. Ari Thór from the police. Am I interrupting you?’

  ‘Not a thing. I’m just at home. There’s no school these days so there isn’t a lot for us teachers to do. Have you made any progress?’

  ‘I’m getting there. There are a few things I need to go over with you. Could we meet at the weekend, if that suits you?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Hédinn said, the anticipation clear in his voice. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘I’m still working on it, but I can tell you that you have a cousin out there somewhere you didn’t know about.’

  ‘What did you say? A cousin?’

  ‘That’s righ
t. Jórunn and Maríus had a boy in 1950, but I don’t know what became of him. He seems to have been adopted; I guess things were tough for Jórunn.’

  ‘You think he might be … alive?’ Hédinn gulped.

  Ari Thór sensed there might be something more than curiosity behind the question.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I have no idea. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I was thinking of something my father said shortly before he died,’ Hédinn said after a pause. ‘He was pretty much in a world of his own by then, the old man, but now and again we got some sense out of him.’

  ‘Did he say something relevant?’

  ‘No, I’m not sure it is, otherwise I’d have mentioned it before. But I guess it could have something to do with Jórunn’s son. Maybe … it’s not a pleasant thing to say … but maybe she didn’t give him up when it came down to it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The old man was saying something about how well I’d done for myself, and said that the bad genes had not been passed down to me, only the good ones. At the time I didn’t know what he was talking about, and then he said – and I’ve never forgotten his words – “I was just thinking that you had an aunt who took a life …” I did my best to ask him what he meant, but couldn’t get anything more out of him. Maybe he’d said too much, or he might have just been confused.’

  ‘Do you think he meant Jórunn?’

  ‘It’s possible. I never heard that she was involved in any kind of murder case, or he may have meant that she took her own life. I had two aunts on father’s side as well, and never heard anything untoward about either of them. I’ve only just remembered all this, when you said she’d had a child and nobody knew what became of it. Maybe, you know, she took the child’s life, for some reason?’

  ‘It’s a shocking thought. That’s all I can say …’ Ari Thór shuddered. ‘We ought to talk at more length tomorrow if we can find time to meet. And, by the way, there’ll be a picture of you on the TV tonight.’