Rupture

by Ragnar Jónasson

  Helga looked as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she had the look of someone who had not slept well for days.

  For his part, Ari Thór was thankful that he had come out of this crisis unscathed. He had escaped any infection, despite being one of the few people in the town who was required to be out and about, and had managed to rest fairly well between shifts. He had even found time to dig into a forgotten case that had turned out to be much more interesting than most – in fact, all – of the cases that the Siglufjördur police force had dealt with so far that year.

  Ari Thór was on his way out of the hospital when he noticed a door marked ‘Midwifery’. He stopped, a thought surfacing in his mind. He was reminded of the boy in Blönduós – the baby who might well have a father in the Siglufjördur police. There was a possibility that Ari Thór might have missed out on the birth of his own son; he felt a stab of regret.

  But before any further doubts could assail him, another idea crystallised in his mind. Hédinn had been born in Hédinsfjördur, so the midwife from Siglufjördur must have gone over there to attend to the birth – undoubtedly one of the few people who would have had reason to visit the inhabitants of Hédinsfjördur. Could she be still alive? He rapidly worked out the dates. It might just be possible. If she had been in her twenties then, she would now be into her eighties.

  He knocked at the midwife’s door and a middle-aged woman opened it.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘A visit from the police?’

  ‘Could I come in for a moment?’ Ari Thór asked with a smile.

  ‘Be my guest,’ she replied, and took a seat behind a desk piled high with paperwork. ‘Normally you’d have to make an appointment, but things are quiet at the moment. When are you due?’ she asked, her face straight.

  The joke took Ari Thór by surprise; he reacted by retreating deeper into formality than usual.

  ‘I’d like to find out about midwives working here in the town around the middle of the last century.’

  ‘Listen, I’m not that old, even though I’m coming up for retirement,’ she replied with a warm smile.

  ‘Is it possible to look up midwives from that time? Specifically, in 1956?’

  ‘I don’t need to look that up. That would have been Sigurlaug.’

  Ari Thór instantly felt buoyed up again. ‘Where can I find her?’

  ‘You can’t find her anywhere. She died years ago.’

  So that avenue was closed, he decided, and stood up.

  ‘Alright. Thanks. I’ll leave you to deal with the next baby.’

  ‘Hmm. Babies aren’t born here anymore. Some of them go to Akureyri and others go all the way to Reykjavík. I just look after ante-natal stuff and then post-natal assistance. Endless paperwork, as you can see,’ she said, resting a hand on one of the stacks of documents.

  Ari Thór sat down again. ‘Do you have reports from that time? I’m looking for information about a birth in Hédinsfjördur, in May 1956.’

  ‘That would be Hédinn, wouldn’t it?’ she said thoughtfully. ‘He was the only one born in Hédinsfjördur, as far as I know.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, we have reports on all kinds of things. You just need time to search through them.’ She peered at him and her eyes narrowed, twinkling with humour. ‘Would you like me to see what I can find?’

  ‘I’d very much appreciate it,’ he said bashfully, and saw from the look on her face that she was waiting for an explanation. But he decided to wait for her to ask him directly.

  ‘It’s an unusual request, you know,’ she said, hesitatingly. ‘Can I ask why you’re interested in these documents?’

  Ari Thór grinned, pleased that he had figured her out correctly. ‘If you can find the report, then I’ll tell you the whole story. I’ll drop by again later,’ he said, getting to his feet.

  ‘My pleasure. I’ll do my best. I should be able to look into it first thing on Monday. Is that all right with you?’

  ‘That would be perfect.’

  It wasn’t as if this was a priority, but it would be interesting to have any impressions from someone else who had been in Hédinsfjördur at that time.

  Outside, in the car park in front of the hospital, Ari Thór turned back. He had meant to ask after Sandra. Back inside the building, he asked for Helga and she appeared after a few minutes.

  ‘Hello again,’ Ari Thór said. ‘I completely forgot. I wanted to ask how old Sandra’s getting on.’

  ‘She talks a lot about you,’ Helga said, without answering the question.

  ‘Is she recovering?’

  ‘I shouldn’t really discuss her condition with someone who isn’t a relative,’ she said. ‘But I suppose I can make an exception. The police ought to be aware of how the hospital is coping with other illnesses during this unusual time.’

  Ari Thór waited anxiously.

  ‘She doesn’t look good and the flu has weakened her. She’s worn out and I don’t think she has long left. Won’t you go and see her? She’s probably awake now and I know she would appreciate it.’

  Ari Thór looked at his watch as if he were already late for another meeting.

  ‘I’m tied up for the next hour or so,’ he lied, feeling like a coward. ‘I’ll drop by this evening or tomorrow. Would you say hello to her for me?’

  34

  ‘They are searching for Kjartan, we just need to wait,’ Róbert said when Sunna had calmed down a bit.

  ‘Why did you mention the lake?’ she yelled.

  ‘They got the guy who took him, Sunna, he says the boy’s alright. That he left him by the lake.’

  ‘Not in the lake? Are you sure? Tell me, Róbert, tell me … I need to know!’

  ‘By the lake, darling, he said by the lake. It’s just a matter of waiting now.’

  She sat on the floor and cried.

  He watched her helplessly. It was like waiting for a countdown to end – a ticking time bomb. There was an explosion due and it was anyone’s guess who the survivors would be.

  ‘I have to leave,’ Heida said after a brief silence.

  Normally Róbert would have been delighted, but now he would have given anything for her to stay. He had no desire to be alone with Sunna. It was too difficult; he would have no excuse then not to tell her the truth.

  ‘No, please, Heida, stay with us. You’re part of the family.’

  ‘Sorry, I really have to go, Róbert. I’ll be in touch, let me know if anything happens, OK?’

  He sighed and nodded. Sunna didn’t say a word; she simply moaned a little.

  Emil had grinned when the police asked where the little boy was. What the hell did that mean?

  *

  Róbert had lost track of time when the phone finally rang. It was the Chief Inspector. Róbert answered with his heart in his mouth. Sunna, still on the floor, looked up at him, her eyes wide.

  ‘We’ve found Kjartan. Safe and well.’

  Róbert gasped with relief and the phone dropped from his hand.

  ‘They’ve found him,’ he gasped, crouching down and wrapping his arms around Sunna. ‘They found him. They’ve found Kjartan. He’s OK. He’s safe now.’

  But it was like holding a mannequin. She was stiff and still in his arms; she didn’t speak, didn’t make a noise. Showed no reaction at all.

  He grabbed the phone from the floor. ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am,’ he said, choking back his tears. ‘Where did you find him?’

  ‘Believe it or not, in the playground of a kindergarten near the lake. The little fellow is exhausted and hungry; he was probably too weak to cry loud enough for someone to notice him. It wasn’t until the kindergarten kids were let out to play that the teachers noticed there was a distressed child out there.’

  Róbert looked over at Sunna and saw that some life had now returned to her. Something like a smile spread across her face, but it was twisted up with a grimace, almost of pain. And then her relief broke through in a flood of tears and sobs.
r />   ’Are you on the way over here?’ he asked the Chief Inspector.

  ‘We’ll be there soon. We’re just getting the doctor to check the boy first.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. Thank you,’ Róbert said.

  He held Sunna again, feeling her shaking body against his. Could he allow himself to hope that there was no longer any need to discuss his connection to Emil with her? Had his prayers been answered?

  By the time the Chief Inspector and his team arrived shortly afterwards, Róbert had worked himself up into such a new panic he hardly noticed the little boy who had been missing for a day and a night. Instead all his attention was on trying to read what was behind the smile on the policeman’s face. Was he simply satisfied with the happy outcome to the case? Was he going to give away the secrets of Róbert’s past? Perhaps he was even looking forward to it. Or maybe he wouldn’t say anything unless Sunna asked. The waiting was torture; Róbert realised he was longing for a drink. No, not a drink. Something stronger than that. For the first time in months, he could hardly bear to face reality sober.

  ‘It worked out in the best way it could,’ the Chief Inspector said, once Sunna had held Kjartan tightly in her arms for a long time. ‘The boy seems fine now. He just needs a bit of mother’s love.’

  ‘As I told you before, Emil is in custody.’ He paused and then went on. ‘We searched his place – or, rather, his parents’ home, and there were several interesting things we found there. The media are going to latch on to this, so it’s best that you’re forewarned. You’ll get plenty of attention.’

  He seemed ready to go, and Róbert thought he might be able to relax.

  But Sunna looked up, dragging her eyes away from Kjartan’s face for a moment and stopping the Chief Inspector by the door. ‘Did he say why he did it?’ she asked quietly.

  Róbert felt the world going dark in front of him. The Chief Inspector was staring at him. The question remained unasked; didn’t you talk to her?

  Róbert sat down on the sofa, looking at the floor and hoping his face didn’t betray his emotions. Sunna stood in the middle of the room with Kjartan clasped in her arms.

  ‘He had staked you out, and he had followed you,’ the Chief Inspector said, directing his words to Sunna.

  She said nothing but the shock was clear in her eyes. Her eyebrows creased up and he mouth fell open.

  ‘He had meant to seek revenge, as we had suspected.’

  ‘Revenge? Sunna asked in astonishment.

  ‘He felt he had unfinished business with Róbert.’

  Sunna stood silent, her mouth still hanging open, looking from the Chief Inspector, to Róbert and then back again, seemingly unable to speak.

  ‘It’s connected to an assault that took place in January two years ago. There was a break-in at a private house one evening, almost certainly in error; we think whoever broken in chose the wrong house. A young woman was at home alone, her husband was at work. She suffered a brutal assault and we think a baseball bat was used.’

  ‘I remember the case…’ Sunna said. ‘But …’ she began, her face a picture of confusion.

  ‘She never recovered from her injuries and passed away earlier this year. Her husband – Emil – has suffered from significant mental problems since then. He hasn’t been able to work and has lived with his parents. He appears to have been determined to seek revenge.’

  ‘But what does all that have to do with Róbert?’ she demanded, her voice sharp now. Kjartan gave out a scream and began crying.

  The Chief Inspector hesitated before continuing.

  ‘He was a suspect at the time. Emil was aware of that. In fact, Róbert was our only suspect in the case, but there was no evidence against him. So, I’m afraid, it’s not exactly a surprise that Emil focused his anger and sorrow in your direction. It’s a tragedy from start to finish.’

  Sunna said nothing. She turned to the window, trying to calm Kjartan down.

  The Chief Inspector made for the door. Róbert got to his feet and followed him out of the room. On the doorstep, he murmured his thanks for all his efforts.

  The Chief Inspector turned, gave him a steely glare, and walked to his car without another word.

  The steps back to the living room felt long and arduous. He was met with Sunna’s unwavering gaze.

  ‘I’m not going to get myself worked up,’ she said slowly and quietly. ‘Not while Kjartan is here. But I can’t believe that you kept this from me. I can understand why you did, but that doesn’t mean to say I forgive you for it.’ She paused and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so. ‘But I have to ask you, Róbert. Did you assault that woman?’

  The silence that followed crackled with tension.

  Róbert stood still; sweat broke out once more over his entire body.

  ‘No … no … Of course I didn’t, sweetheart…’ he stammered at last and knew instantly that she could see through the lie.

  Hell.

  It was so unfair. He was sick and tired, and drained. Just one drink would have got him through all this so easily. He didn’t dare look into her eyes, conscious of the anger radiating from her face.

  ‘Get out,’ she snapped, the tears about to choke her. And keeping her voice low, she repeated it several times: ‘Get out, get out, get out.’

  He didn’t say goodbye, just put on his coat and shoes and walked out into the bright day outside.

  All he could think of now was walking downtown and finding somewhere he could sit down and get himself a drink.

  He had known it would end this way. He’d been kidding himself if he thought it wouldn’t. Sunna was too good for him. It was always going to be difficult for a small-time villain to turn over a new leaf – more than likely it couldn’t be done.

  Small-time villain. He smiled to himself. That assault was no minor offence, but he had an excuse. The drugs had taken hold and he had been in a bad way when he took the job on. It should have been so simple – just collecting money and using threats. Nothing properly serious. No real violence.

  He remembered that night well, even though he’d been in a doped-up fog. He was sure the girl was lying when she said she didn’t know the man he was collecting for. He had been so angry at her. He’d lost his temper and let fly with the bat. He could still see the look on the woman’s face as he swung; pure surprise. It was as if she didn’t believe he’d go that far. He hadn’t believed he could go that far …

  It was when his head cleared and he realised what he had done that he knew he had to get a grip – seek treatment and say goodbye to the drugs.

  All the same, the memory of that night stayed with him, keeping him awake and coming to him in his dreams. There had been all that blood, not to mention the sickening crack of the bat on the girl’s head as he’d put all the power he could behind it.

  He had been interrogated again and again, but there was never enough evidence to pin anything on him. Of course he didn’t admit to anything. It was as if some higher power had protected him. Maybe it wasn’t right to punish him for something that the drugs were responsible for. By turning over a new leaf, he felt that he had made a kind of penance and ensured that it would never happen again. But the nightmares had never gone away.

  He continued on his way downtown and knew there was no doubt that he and Sunna were finished. Maybe Emil had managed to extract some kind of vengeance after all.

  35

  Persistence finally paid off; after endless attempts Ísrún was able to speak to her police contact. By then she had already heard that the little boy had been found and the suspect arrested. She wouldn’t be the first one with this piece of news that evening.

  ‘At last,’ she said cheerfully. You’ve been busy?’

  ‘You have no idea.’

  ‘Congratulations. It’s great that you found the boy and caught the kidnapper,’ she said. ‘Case closed?’

  There was silence on the phone.

  ‘Not quite,’ he said eventually.

  ‘What does tha
t mean?’ she asked, feeling her pulse quicken.

  ‘If I tell you, then you promise not to use it until tomorrow; you can’t breathe a word about it before then. There’ll be a statement tonight.’

  Ísrún swore under her breath; she had no choice but to agree to his conditions.

  ‘This guy, Emil, lives with his parents and we searched the house. The real surprise was in the garage,’ he said and waited, clearly in no mood to tell all without encouragement.

  ‘Right. Was there anything more than a car in there?’ Ísrún asked.

  ‘No. It was the car that was interesting, especially the blood on the bonnet.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘The car appears to have been involved in a collision; or rather, it seems it was in a hit-and-run. Don’t forget. Not a word to anyone.’

  Ísrún rapidly joined the dots but was hardly able to believe her own theory.

  ‘A hit-and-run – you mean Snorri Ellertsson?’

  There was a long silence. ‘We have been questioning Emil about it,’ he said at last. ‘He’s admitted that it was him. He ran Snorri over.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He’s seeking revenge for the death of his wife. I gather he believes that Snorri was involved, along with the boyfriend of the girl whose child was abducted. He was determined to pay both of them back.’

  With so little information to work on, Ísrún was finding it hard to pull the pieces of this story together. The same man – Emil – seemed to have murdered Snorri and abducted the baby boy, clearly working on the premise that both Snorri and this man Róbert had been involved in the assault that had led to his wife’s death.

  It was unbelievable.

  Had the son of national treasure Ellert Snorrason murdered a young woman in cold blood? There was no doubt in her mind that this would be the news story of the year.

  It was common knowledge that Snorri had at one time struggled with an alcohol problem, and probably drugs as well, and had been close to some dubious underworld figures. This had cast a definite shadow over his father’s work, but Ellert had seemed to weather the potential storm around his son’s affairs.