Inborn

by Thomas Enger

  ‘So maybe we should bring her in again,’ one of the other detectives argued – a man with caramel-coloured hair and a big belly.

  Yngve thought of the interviews he had conducted with Susanne ten years before. It had taken days for her to answer even the simplest of questions, as she was being treated for a fractured collarbone and some other minor injuries.

  ‘Was she at the school show that night?’ the same detective asked.

  Vibeke Hanstveit produced a sheet of paper with a lot of names on it. ‘Doesn’t look like it,’ she said, as she scanned it. ‘She hasn’t come in for questioning.’

  ‘If she was, and she hasn’t come forward, I say we get her in here right away,’ Therese said.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to have a sit-down with her anyway,’ Yngve said. ‘No one knows her son better than she does.’

  ‘You think Even still might have something to do with all this?’ Vibeke Hanstveit asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Yngve said. ‘That’s what I’d like to find out. And I’d like to question her again about the car accident, too. Is there any way she could have had a motive for killing Mari? Mari was going to write a piece about the car accident, but that isn’t something you would kill three teenagers over. Unless, of course, Mari had discovered something that wasn’t uncovered ten years ago. Something that suggests Susanne lied to us. I find it very hard to believe that Mari had, though.’

  ‘Why?’ Hanstveit asked.

  ‘She wasn’t privy to a single piece of physical evidence, for one. It’s not my impression that she’d talked to Susanne about the accident, or even talked that much to her at all – even though Mari was going out with her son.’

  The room went quiet for a moment.

  ‘I’ll head over to her house after this meeting,’ Yngve said. ‘In the meantime, let’s look at other possible motives as well. Let’s hear them all. There are no stupid ideas. No silly thoughts.’ Yngve searched the room with his eyes. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘There must have been something that has struck you as odd or weird.’

  ‘Maybe someone else had a thing for Mari,’ one of the detectives suggested – a woman with long, fair hair. ‘Maybe they thought that Mari was on the market again after her break-up with Even, which apparently was done very publicly. But she refused them and they reacted angrily.’

  Yngve thought about it. ‘That would suggest that someone had time to make a move on her in the few minutes it took Johannes Eklund to leave the music room, go downstairs with his friends, realise that he’d misplaced his phone, and then come back up again. I don’t think that would have taken him very long.’

  ‘There are people like that,’ she argued, ‘who get straight to the point. Without any fuss.’

  Again the room went quiet. No one seemed to support her suggestion.

  ‘Alright,’ Yngve said. ‘Let us move away from the motive a little.’

  He asked if they had managed to identify the man who had entered the school by the main door at 10.49 p.m., and who hadn’t come back out the same way.

  ‘I talked to the group of girls who were standing outside at the time,’ another detective said. ‘They hadn’t noticed him.’

  Yngve thought of Mari’s father, who he still hadn’t managed to get hold of. His absence from the town – from his wife’s side just after their daughter had been killed – was beginning to look more and more suspicious.

  ‘What about Børre Halvorsen’s movements between the show and his murder. Do we know what he was up to, besides not going to school?’

  ‘I spoke to his father earlier,’ Therese said. ‘He had no idea where Børre had been.’

  ‘God, didn’t either of his parents have any kind of control over this kid?’ Hanstveit asked.

  ‘Poor lad,’ one of the others offered.

  Therese pursed her lips and shook her head slightly, before stroking her belly.

  ‘The door-to-door around the area close to the bridge,’ Yngve continued. ‘Did that give us anything?’

  The man with the caramel-coloured hair coughed into his fist. ‘There aren’t many houses with a direct view of the bridge, so no, not really.’

  ‘There’s a CCTV camera at the train station,’ Therese said. ‘I’ve requested the footage, if there even was any, but I haven’t got a reply yet.’

  Yngve ran a hand over his head. ‘How are we doing on the microphone case?’

  ‘Nothing solid as of yet,’ Davidsen said.

  ‘Alright,’ Yngve said and started to walk up and down in front of the table. ‘Priority number one: find the man on the CCTV footage of the school and ask him what he was doing there. Next: find out as much as we can about Mari’s life – her interests, her friends – there must be something we’ve missed. Same goes for Børre Halvorsen. We need a list of the people he was in contact with between the night of the school murders until he was killed himself.’

  Some of the officers made notes.

  ‘Anyone have anything to add?’ Yngve asked.

  No one spoke.

  ‘OK. Then let’s get to it.’

  Åse remained in the room as the task force left it. She thought he handled it well. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  He turned to look at Hanstveit. She was standing in the door, looking at him.

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘You were saying something.’

  ‘Oh, was I?’

  ‘Yes, you were.’

  He tried to laugh it off. ‘I’m an old man,’ he said with a careful smile. ‘I was just talking to myself.’

  45

  When we rang the bell at Ida’s house, Oskar and I could already hear the music playing inside.

  Elise opened the door for us. ‘Even!’ She was sloshed already. ‘Come in!’

  Gone was the blatant suspicion from earlier in the day. I wondered if Ida had had a talk with her about me. She pulled at my arm without saying anything to Oskar. A strange mixture of perfume and alcohol followed in her wake. I thought Ida had said that this wasn’t a ‘party-party’.

  Inside there were people everywhere. I half expected to see Mari sitting on the sofa, stealing a secret look at me. The only looks I was getting were sneaky, suspicious ones. But no one said anything to me. I tried to relax.

  Oskar and I were looking for Fredrik and Kaiss, when Ida popped up. Like Elise, she called my name loudly. I noticed that several people in the room turned towards us. But that didn’t stop Ida from throwing her arms around me, leaving me no choice but to accept the hug.

  Ida held me tight and breathed in my ear: ‘I’m so glad you came!’ Her voice pierced my brain which was already thumping with the heavy rhythms of a song I didn’t like. I was a bit put out when Ida kissed me on the cheek as well, but I just smiled and tried in vain to stop my face flushing red. Again, I noticed some looks from the room. People clearly found Ida’s behaviour odd.

  ‘Where are your parents?’ I asked. I wondered if there was ever a better question to kill a party.

  ‘It’s their wedding anniversary today,’ she said. ‘Or … something. They went for dinner somewhere. They promised not to be back until late.’

  Let’s hope not, I thought. I tried to picture what the house would look like in a few hours’ time. Ida was dancing – half on her own, half with me. She was still holding my hand.

  ‘Come on,‘ she said. ‘Let’s get you something to drink.’

  She didn’t wait for a yes or a no, just pulled me with her. I thought of GP. So this was what he felt like, being dragged along all the time.

  The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen, but a group of people were standing around a machine that was humming and whirring. One of the guys – I didn’t know him from before – looked at me with a sneer on his lips. I decided to ignore him.

  ‘We’re making smoothies,’ Ida said. ‘I make insanely good smoothies.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  There was a tall, glass blender on the worktop
and lots of fruit, yoghurt, juice and alcohol. Ida pulled me over and started to throw kiwi, banana, strawberry and avocado into the blender. Then she poured in some juice. She was about to open a bottle of vodka as well, when I said: ‘No alcohol for me, please.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Don’t be such a party pooper.’

  Then she poured in the vodka, as though it was water, and started the machine. The noise was swallowed by the laughter and music from the living room. I wondered how this was honouring Mari and Johannes – if anyone else was even thinking of them at all right now. Ida let the blender do its thing for about thirty seconds, then she poured the red-green-whitish sludge into a glass and handed it to me.

  ‘How many of these have you had so far?’

  ‘Why do you ask, Daddy?’

  I gave her a sheepish smile.

  ‘Taste it.’

  I did as she said, and decided that ‘insane’ was actually the best way to describe her smoothie. The combination of fruit and vodka was strange, initially nice and sweet, but then followed by a taste like nails and poison. I took a tiny sip for the sake of appearances. ‘Very good,’ I said.

  ‘Well, hello there!’ Fredrik’s voice cut through the noise behind me.

  I turned around and we did our usual handshake-hug thing.

  ‘Where’s Kaiss?’ I asked.

  ‘He had to go to trombone rehearsal,’ Fredrik said.

  ‘Trombone?’

  ‘Yep, he’s started playing the trombone.’

  I tried to picture it. Kaiss. Trombone. Instead of a party. ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘Nope, he’s having a blow or seventeen.’ Fredrik pretended to do the sliding back and forth thing with his arm.

  ‘Well, that’s as close as he’ll ever get to a blowjob,’ I said.

  We all laughed. I noticed Ida sending me looks that were a bit too long. I took another sip of the nails-and-poison smoothie. The other boys had almost finished theirs already.

  Someone in the next room called for Ida. She rushed out.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ she said before she left, giving me a stern look.

  I held up my hands. Oskar and Fredrik did the same. Then we lowered them, one by one.

  ‘I need some air,’ I said.

  We went out onto the steps at the front of the house. I looked around and then emptied three-quarters of the smoothie onto the flower bed.

  ‘Thank you and goodnight,’ Fredrik said to the flowers, while putting some snus under his lip.

  ‘Need any help?’ Oskar asked.

  I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

  ‘To keep Ida away?’ he continued.

  I snorted and made a face that said, Oskar, you idiot. ‘She’s just drunk,’ I said.

  We went back inside. While the others continued to pour Ida’s fruit-nail gloop down their throats, I stuck to Coke. After about an hour, I had to go to the loo. Leaving the upstairs bathroom I found Ida outside the door. I hadn’t seen her in a while. I had assumed she was lying asleep somewhere, half drowned in her own vomit, but her eyes were surprisingly clear and focused. It felt like they were sucking me in as she moved slowly towards me like a panther closing in on its prey.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. Her voice was soft and sensual. Seductive. ‘Mari was lucky,’ she said. ‘But then again, she usually got what she wanted.’ Another step closer. She was right in front of me now. ‘Question is: did you get what you wanted?’

  She put a hand on my chest. Let it rest there for a while before sliding it down over my stomach muscles. Looking me in the eyes the whole time.

  I blinked.

  Swallowed.

  She kissed me, tentatively. ‘I bet she didn’t do this to you.’

  Her voice was almost a whisper. Her hand started to fiddle with my belt. She opened the door to the bathroom behind me with the other. Then she pushed me inside.

  ‘Ida…’

  ‘Shhhh.’

  My belt was undone. She pushed me gently to begin with, then with more and more force.

  ‘It’s not dangerous,’ she said.

  Dangerous, no. But…

  Ida had her hand pressed on my crotch. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. We were in the bathroom now. Bathtub and shower, a floor big enough for dancing. A gigantic mirror. Ida locked the door behind us.

  ‘Ida,’ I said again.

  ‘Don’t say anything,’ she said while looking at me. ‘You don’t need to say anything. No one needs to know.’

  I swallowed again.

  It wasn’t that Ida wasn’t attractive. She was. She was gorgeous. And God knows I’d dreamt about a gorgeous girl doing exactly this to me, in a bathroom. But all I could see was Mari – her eyes, her hands, her hair – and that stupid text message she’d sent me, the one about me being the best and all, but that she couldn’t be with me any longer.

  I guessed Ida could tell, because she suddenly stopped what she was doing.

  ‘So … Mari could have you, but … I can’t?’

  I stood there watching the change in her eyes from one moment to the next. No more seduction. No more lust.

  ‘Ida, I…’

  ‘No one says no to me.’

  I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘You’re going to regret this,’ she said.

  I tried to think of the right thing to say, something that might repair the damage that had just been done, but nothing seemed right.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ was all I said.

  ‘Get out,’ she said.

  ‘Ida,’ I tried. ‘Don’t…’

  ‘Just get the FUCK OUT!’

  Her scream was so loud I thought someone might hear it, even if the music was still thumping downstairs. I fastened my belt and hurried out. But I didn’t like what I’d seen in Ida’s eyes when she screamed. She’d frightened me.

  46

  Susanne had seen the text messages, but she’d ignored them. She didn’t have anything to say to the police – she’d said everything ten years ago, over and over again. While she was having the worst time of her life. She didn’t have a single thing to add. End of story.

  But when she noticed his car coming up the driveway, she didn’t know what to do. She put down her glass, then changed her mind, grabbed hold of it once more and swigged it down, feeling that lovely, beautiful warmth in her chest. She took a deep breath, thinking about what she was going to say, how she was going to handle it. Handle him.

  She decided to meet the bastard at the door.

  ‘So you are home,’ Yngve Mork said as he walked up the porch steps.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a smile that felt as fake as a plastic Christmas tree. ‘I was just about to call you back.’

  ‘Really. Been busy?’

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Yes. Sort of. There’s been a lot to do and … a lot to think about lately.’

  ‘I know the feeling. Can I borrow two minutes of your time?’

  She thought about that for a second. ‘Will I ever get them back?’

  He laughed at that. ‘I guess you won’t. I need to speak to you, though.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you just say so?’

  He didn’t have an answer to that. ‘Can I come in?’ he said.

  Susanne waited another beat before pushing the door open for him. ‘Don’t bother with the shoes,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘It’s already filthy in here.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘My boots are as dirty as … well, let’s just say that they are very dirty.’

  Susanne was about to protest again. Why, she really didn’t know – she hated grimy floors. She always gave her boys a hard time whenever they walked in with their shoes on. She watched Mork undo his laces and place his boots next to the others. Neatly. Manners, she thought. So that’s what that looked like.

  ‘So what can I do for you this time, officer?’ She tried to sound inviting, but didn’t think she’d pulled it off.

  ‘I need to talk to you about … Can we sit
down somewhere, please? Your kitchen, for instance, is really nice. I was there yesterday with your son.’

  ‘I’m sure it looks a mess.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s fine.’

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  She went inside first, clearing away some glasses and plates, before showing him to a chair. ‘Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A drink, maybe? Oh, I forgot. You’re on duty.’

  ‘I am,’ he said with a smile. ‘And I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  She poured herself a glass of tap water, before sitting down opposite him at the table. She realised she was fidgeting with her fingers, so she stopped.

  ‘So how are things?’ he asked.

  ‘They’re awesome,’ she said, immediately regretting her choice of words. She wasn’t a teenager. She wasn’t Tobias. ‘And I’m a bit busy, so…’

  ‘Alright, then,’ Mork said. ‘How well did you know Mari Lindgren?’

  The question took her by surprise. She thought of Cecilie for a second, then pushed her out of her mind.

  ‘I only talked to her a couple of times,’ she said. ‘Briefly. So no, I really didn’t know her at all.’

  ‘Did you, by any chance, talk to her on Monday night?’

  ‘No, I left with everyone else right after the show was over.’

  He held her gaze for a moment. ‘So you did go to the show?’

  ‘I just said that I did.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘We’ve been asking everyone who attended the show that night to come forward. To contact us. You might have seen something important.’

  ‘I didn’t know about that.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  He doesn’t believe me, she thought. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I didn’t. I’ve had more than enough on my plate to…’

  She stopped herself. She had seen Mork’s call for help. She’d just decided not to heed it.

  ‘Besides, like I told you, I left right after. What possible interest could I be to the investigation?’

  He didn’t have a response to that. He waited a moment before asking his next question. Susanne felt scrutinised. Invaded. Like he was looking for something deep inside her. She could feel her face becoming hot. Or maybe it was just the drink. My God, she’d had quite a few, hadn’t she? She just hoped it wouldn’t show. That she wouldn’t say something she’d live to regret.