«I was walking through the woods,» said Fredrik. «There’s a path there. I wasn’t sober, so I don’t know what I was thinking, why I was walking right there, that is, but I walked right into her. In any case, almost. I saw her when I was by the obelisk.»
The representative from Child Protective Services leaned over and whispered something in the boy’s ear. Verner Jacobsen felt annoyed. He had been following something about the boy’s body language the whole time. Nervous worry from the moment he sat down, but now he had calmed down completely. Either he would tell the truth later, or it was at that moment he decided to lie.
27
Friday, November 28
Evil diary
I am a bad person.
I ought to have a guilty conscience.
Idunn is dead.
And I’m happy.
I took the newspaper with me into my room. Idunn is on the front page. A cutout from the class picture. She is wearing a turquoise top and a white jacket, and a hand is resting on her right shoulder. My hand. I know that, because I was standing right behind her when the picture was taken. Idunn’s dark brown hair is fastened with a clasp shaped like a flower on the one side, so that her earrings, white pearls, are clearly seen. Idunn is looking right into the camera and smiling.
Headline in the newspaper:
Found Killed
Dead. Gone, that is. It’s strange to think about. We used to be friends. Last year when the picture was taken we were BFFs. Before Fredrik. Before Dad started to care. Before the party at Linnea’s.
It says in the paper that it was a young boy who found her, that the police have their eyes on him. It doesn’t give a name, but Dad says it’s Fredrik.
28
The burned-down house was located along the same road that led to where the body was found by the obelisk. It must be the little cottage with the dog run they had passed early Thursday morning, Bitte Røed thought. She recalled that it had looked old and dilapidated. The electrical system surely must have been outdated. The fire investigators were in the process of photographing, and the area was cordoned off. Smoke was still drifting up from the ruins.
«Oh, that really burns, even for a hardened smoker,» Marius Moe said, putting his hand over his mouth.
«Do you smoke? I didn’t know that.»
«Trying to quit,» Marius said as Bitte waved one of the fire investigators over to her. The man had a mask covering his face, which made her think of old news stories about the Ebola virus.
«What can you say so far?» she asked.
«Difficult to say so soon,» said the man. «But it reached a high temperature; we can already say that with certainty. The fire department said that the house had fiber-cement siding. In principle, that’s fireproof, but when it gets just hot enough, the plates give way under the pressure, and if you spray water on them, it becomes sort of like popcorn. We assume that a door or a window was open, so there was good cross ventilation. Of course, we’re also searching for traces of explosives. There was a kerosene stove in the house, and an indoor tank may have been the cause of the serious spread of the fire.»
«Do you know where the fire started?»
«Not yet.»
«Could it be arson?»
«Too soon to say. We’ll find out eventually, but it may take a little time. You see what it looks like.»
The man threw out his arm and seemed impatient to get back to work.
«Thanks,» Bitte Røed said as she surveyed the burned house. The chimney was still standing, along with parts of the outside walls. Half of the corrugated iron roof had collapsed and probably covered whatever clues might be found. It would take days to get to the bottom of everything.
You would think that all they would find under the shingles was ash, but although she saw only soot and ruins, in a few days the technicians’ meticulous work would tell them how the fire had started and developed. Hopefully. Some reporters were circling around, but Kristian was not among them.
On the Lierposten website, there were pictures of the scene by the obelisk, taken before the area was cordoned off. The editor’s byline was on the article, but only Kristian could have taken those pictures. She did not know what she thought about that. Part of her was irritated and disappointed. Using your phone to take pictures at such a moment. Another voice told her that it was his job after all, and how often did a journalist get the opportunity to be first at a scene? It would be unnatural not to take advantage of the opportunity.
At least the editor had refrained from speculations; no more than the sparse facts that had already been made public were in the story. That made her more gently disposed. She had sent Kristian a message earlier in the day, but he had not replied. It was possible that his phone had been confiscated. She would have to try the landline later, she decided.
Bitte Røed picked up her phone for the God-knows-what time. Kristian smiled at her from the screen. Sexy, she thought, putting the phone back in her pocket. But the investigator in her was starting to send unpleasant messages: person who calls the police = suspect. She dismissed the thought. Kristian was the most honorable person she had ever known. Even back when they were teenage sweethearts, he had confessed immediately when he met Pia and fell in love with her. It was brutal, but honest. She had hated him a while for that, said he was mean and refused to be dropped. She recalled how she had gone to his house in an aggressive moment, calling him names and provoking him. He had raised his arm, and for a moment she had been afraid that he would hit her. But then he just stroked her cheek and gently let her go her way with her heart filled to the brim with shame.
Now he had simply done what any responsible adult would have done, hadn’t he? Called the ambulance and the police. And of course, he wasn’t the first one on the scene. That was the boy. He and the victim had been at the same party. And Julie had been there too! No, she had to regain her common sense. Julie had nothing to do with this, and Kristian would probably be cleared from the case immediately.
«Can we be sure who the deceased is?» she asked, in an attempt to concentrate on the fire case. Marius Moe shrugged.
«It will almost certainly be impossible to identify the person in question based on appearance. The teeth could possibly give an answer. Otherwise, reference samples will be taken that can be compared with relatives, in order to get the identity confirmed.»
«Okay,» said Bitte. «Have we seen enough?»
Marius Moe agreed that they couldn’t do anything other than drive back to the office, write a report, and track down the next of kin to the house’s registered owner.
A sudden impulse.
«Listen, Marius,» she said. «I don’t live far from here. I wonder if maybe you could go back alone and drop off the car, and I’ll just walk home. I can write the report from there.»
«Okay. But I can drive you home,» Marius suggested.
«I need a little air,» said Bitte, at the same time feeling how the acrid stench of smoke stung her nose. She pretended it didn’t bother her, as she continued.
«It will be good to clear my head a little. You can just go.»
He didn’t suspect what she had in mind. She walked slowly out to the road and waited until she could no longer see the taillights of the unmarked police car. Then she turned and walked in the opposite direction.
29
Throughout the entire interview, Fredrik had squirmed like he was sitting on gravel. Until this woman from Child Protective Services whispered something in his ear. Then he became calm and quiet. Verner Jacobsen had offered to drive him home. He didn’t say anything in the car on the way to Tranby, either. Normally, Verner would have used the car ride as an opportunity to get more information, but this time he wasn’t able to. Suddenly it was Victor sitting beside him in the passenger seat with his long legs, and with his arms folded across his chest. And if he broke the silence, the illusion would burst.
Fredrik lived in one of the gray apartment buildings right by the school. Verner parked the car in
the visitors’ parking lot and followed him to the door.
«It’s only twelve thirty. You can still make it to the last period,» Verner Jacobsen suggested, but the boy disappeared without a word through the entrance, letting the door with reinforced glass glide shut behind him. He turned around and raised his hand in what might have been an obscene gesture, but which Verner chose to interpret as a kind of goodbye.
I have to pull myself together, Verner thought as he strolled along the walkway, heading for the low buildings with flat roofs that he assumed were the secondary school. He had to stop mistaking every young boy he met for his own dead son. Victor would not come back that way, he knew that of course, but his brain was struggling to understand the actual circumstances. Maybe he should take a few days off? He didn’t know which was worse—encountering his own sorrow at home, wading in it, or having to be confronted with the despair in Idunn’s family.
As always, he chose to immerse himself in the misfortunes of others instead of his own, and no one at the police station seemed surprised that he came back to work so soon. The cancer that had taken his son’s life could never be accused and brought before a court, but Idunn’s killer could. He simply did not want it to be Fredrik. Anyone at all, just not the little boy in the all-too-grownup body. He cursed himself at the same moment for not being able to stick to the facts.
The school bell rang as he rounded the corner, and he waited up on the walkway until everyone had gone in before he continued to the scheduled meeting with the principal and assistant principal.
On a table under the bulletin board in the lobby was a bouquet of flowers, a portrait of Idunn, and an open condolence book. An unpleasant and abnormal quiet was lurking between the walls. Verner looked around. There was no sign pointing to the principal’s office, but he headed for the red doors in the corridor to the right. He passed a broom closet and counselor’s office before coming to a door that said Principal Anne Bengtson. He knocked with two knuckles and opened the door without waiting for a response. Two women stood up at the same time, as if by an agreed-upon signal.
«Verner Jacobsen,» Verner said, extending his hand.
«Anne Bengtson,» said the woman behind the desk.
She was short; even Verner Jacobsen, at 173.5 centimeters, towered over her. The old height requirement of 175 centimeters for police officers had been abolished, but when he applied to the Police College, he added a centimeter by standing on tiptoe. Mercifully, he had slipped through the eye of the needle even though he was still considered too short.
The petite woman before him radiated a towering authority.
«I’m the principal, and this is Kari Halvorsen, one of the assistant principals. Kari’s primary responsibility is the social environment.» The principal and assistant principal smiled faintly with mouths drawn down, as if they had shared the same frustrations for years.
Verner shook Kari Halvorsen’s plump hand before he sat down in the vacant chair beside her. He sat silently for a moment, knowing full well that he was the one who ought to speak first. Something consoling and articulate about the situation that had come up for the school was required, but Victor was tugging at his heart.
«I’m sorry,» he said.
«Thanks,» said Anne Bengtson. «We’re all affected by what happened, but we understand that you have to do your job. We would really like to contribute. What can we do to help?»
Verner liked her efficient tone and recognized it as a practical tool in the struggle against emotions.
«I would like you to tell me everything you know about Idunn Olsen,» said Verner Jacobsen. «And I am also interested in hearing about her friends.»
«Where should I start?» said the principal. «Idunn was a great girl. Popular.»
The two women looked at each other and nodded.
«Linnea Løvås and Marte Skage were probably her closest friends. Sweet girls too. Good students, all of them,» the assistant principal said, avoiding Verner Jacobsen’s gaze.
«Let’s call a spade a spade,» the principal Anne Bengtson said abruptly, getting up from her chair. She went over to the window and stood with arms crossed and her back turned. Her blouse stretched across her back, and one corner had come loose and was hanging outside her waistband, unnoticed. It was as if she were speaking to someone in the schoolyard outside, as she continued.
«Idunn was involved in a bullying case that we’ve been working on a lot recently. She was one of the bullies.»
The principal turned toward them again.
«We have had an extensive anti-bullying campaign going on for a while. The president of the Parent-Teacher Association, Kristian Skage, and the parents on the committee have made an amazing effort. Among other things, they put together a program where a film was shown about how quickly unwanted content spreads on the Internet. I think for many parents this was an eye-opener.»
«Yes, the PTA has done a great job,» Kari Halvorsen confirmed. «But the problem was that it didn’t help Marte. Marte, by the way, is the PTA president’s daughter,» she added.
«Was Marte bullied?»
«She denied it herself, but her father made contact several times after summer vacation. He said that—»
She stopped and bit her lower lip.
«This was said in confidence,» she said. «The school has a duty of confidentiality.»
«The police do too,» Verner said soothingly.
Kari Halvorsen nodded seriously and continued.
«We have a group of students here at the school that we call the Back-up Group. It’s often the case that we achieve the best results when the young people take care of things themselves. The Back-up Group is made up of students with resources who are well liked, who are accessible, and who have the right values. You have to apply personally to be involved, but the group is selected by the teachers and administrators. At the beginning, Idunn was an obvious leader. But in this case, it got complicated, because Marte was close friends with most of the students in the Back-up Group.»
«And Marte’s father was worried,» the principal said. «His daughter’s personality seemed to change after summer vacation. She isolated herself. But I had the impression that the conflict between Marte and her friends was in the process of resolving itself.»
«What was the conflict about?»
«That’s what’s so difficult to find out. There were rumors that someone had posted unflattering pictures of Idunn right after school started. Marte got blamed, but we could never confirm whether that was true. It was claim against claim, and we never saw any pictures that could be considered offensive.»
«The kids are posting pictures and videos all the time,» Kari Halvorsen added. «On Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Kik, Ask, Vine, Snapchat, and no doubt other sites we don’t even know about. Some think it’s safe to use Snapchat, because the pictures are only shown for a given number of seconds. It may well be that there were pictures that we never saw. And maybe they’re still out there. You know, young people have developed such quick fingers that they take screenshots faster than we grown-ups can say ’snap.’»
«What is actually a bit strange is that Marte’s father told us that she had become introverted, but here at school she was sometimes acting out. We’ve seen that, haven’t we, Kari?» said Anne Bengtson.
Kari Halvorsen nodded.
«Does Marte’s father have any idea about what may have caused this change in his daughter?» Verner asked.
«Well, he thinks there must be a conflict with someone at school. But when I talked with Marte, she maintained that everything was fine and that she absolutely did not want help from the Back-up team or anyone else.»
«We’ve seen that before,» said the principal. «Some don’t dare get help out of fear that it will turn to have the opposite effect.»
«And sometimes things do get worse,» said the assistant principal. «I think Marte was scared and uncertain with respect to her friends. We see that every year. Over the summer, the teenagers have grown at diffe
rent rates, both physically and mentally. When school starts, there will be new hierarchies in place. It can be a painful process, but as a rule it resolves itself over the first few months. But this thing with Marte...»
Kari Halvorsen picked up a pen from the desk and nibbled at the cap. Needs a smoke, Verner thought.
«I think it’s due to difficult family circumstances,» Kari Halvorsen completed the thought, placing the pen between her index and middle fingers and twirling it around. «That’s why she behaves so aggressively sometimes.»
«Aggressively? Do you have any specific examples?»
Verner Jacobsen was worried. Difficult family circumstances, he thought, and was worried for a moment about Bitte Røed, who was now in a relationship with Marte’s father. He continued with the next question before he got an answer to the first one.
«What kind of difficult family circumstances are we talking about here?»
«Divorce,» said Kari Halvorsen. «It’s said to have been very messy. Kristian Skage is a journalist with the local newspaper, and he’s published several articles about a father’s vulnerable role in divorces. Much of what he says is probably correct, that it is often the father who struggles the most, especially financially.»
«But you asked whether there were any specific episodes with Marte,» said the principal.
Verner barely had time to nod before she continued.
«Unfortunately, there have been a few. I remember one time we had to bring them into my office. It was before first period one day, do you remember, Kari, not too long ago, a couple of weeks?»
«Yes, it was Idunn who came and told us. Marte had thrown her pack into her back so hard that she fell on the pavement and ruined an expensive pair of pants. Marte said it was an accident.»
«We’ve had episodes before, too,» the principal said with a sad smile. «Balls during gym class that accidentally hit someone’s face, and difficulties cooperating in group work, to mention a few. Unfortunately, it’s not unusual. Children’s behavior changes when the family circumstances become difficult.»
The Girl With No Heart Page 8