Elma blew on the scalding coffee before taking a sip. The previous day’s crop of interviews had hardly produced anything new, though her thoughts lingered on Bryndís, the old woman who had drunk coffee with Maríanna on the Wednesday morning before she vanished. Could Maríanna’s murder have been linked to her past? Why had Maríanna decided to move away from her father, her only living relative? She’d had no obvious reason to settle in Borgarnes. There were few job opportunities in the town and it wasn’t as if Maríanna had been studying at the nearby University of Bifröst.
So far, Sævar had taken care of communicating with Maríanna’s father, but perhaps they should pay him a visit together. When Sævar talked to him back in the spring, the father had explained that he had little contact with his daughter. He’d been sure that Maríanna had simply relapsed and gone on a bender, and would turn up again in a matter of days or weeks.
‘What kind of trouble was Hekla in?’ Hörður asked, after listening to the report of their trip to Borgarnes.
‘Typical teenage stuff, I gather,’ Elma said. ‘Apparently she was always sneaking off to Akranes and wanted to spend more time with her foster parents than at home.’
‘Or with her boyfriend,’ Sævar chipped in.
‘Her boyfriend?’ Hörður frowned. ‘Did she have one?’
‘We suspect so,’ Sævar said. ‘Maríanna’s neighbour told us she’d seen a boy hanging around in a car outside the house on several occasions.’
‘And you think he was a boyfriend?’
‘He must have been,’ Sævar said. ‘Presumably a bit older than Hekla too – if he had a driver’s licence.’
‘Do you think the boyfriend could have picked Hekla up on the Friday Maríanna vanished? And that maybe Maríanna was trying to get hold of Hekla because she wasn’t at school?’
‘But Hekla was at school,’ Sævar said. ‘I mean, her teacher confirmed the fact.’
‘The form teacher only had classes until midday. Hekla was supposed to be at a swimming lesson between one and two.’ Elma shrugged. ‘Do you really think teachers notice if the odd pupil doesn’t turn up?’
‘Well, we can see if the swimming instructor remembers Hekla being in the lesson,’ Sævar said. ‘Wasn’t that something we checked back in the spring?’
‘No,’ Elma said. It was becoming increasingly obvious how sloppy their original inquiry had been. She saw now that they had failed to investigate a number of things that would have been followed up if it had been a murder inquiry. But everyone had been so sure that Maríanna had killed herself.
‘It would certainly explain why Maríanna drove over to Akranes,’ Hörður said. ‘Remind me, why did Hekla have those “weekend” parents?’
Elma looked down at the files and sighed. All the pages of text did nothing but get in the way of her thoughts. ‘We only looked into it in a cursory way in the spring,’ she said. ‘It came up when we contacted the Child Protection Agency to get a better idea of Maríanna’s mental state. Hekla was originally placed with Bergrún and Fannar when she was three years old. A neighbour had heard the little girl crying for three nights in a row. In the end he knocked on the door and found Hekla alone in the flat, starving and in a bad way. The police were notified, and the girl was sent to be fostered. It turned out that Maríanna had gone out on the town and got carried away. What was supposed to be one evening had ended up being a week-long bender.’
‘What, and she got the child back afterwards?’ Hörður asked, astonished.
‘Yes. I don’t think Hekla was away from her for very long – perhaps six months or so. After that Maríanna agreed to have a support family – a family who cared for Hekla every other weekend – though I gather from Bergrún that Hekla often spent more time with them. She used to stay longer over the summer months and sometimes went on holiday with them.’
‘Right, then,’ Hörður said. ‘We’d better interview Hekla and her support family again.’
‘Yes, and another thing,’ Elma said. ‘Bergrún rang Maríanna almost every day during the week leading up to her disappearance … I mean, murder.’
‘Except on the day she was killed,’ Sævar pointed out.
Elma pored over the list of phone calls and saw that he was right: Bergrún had rung every single day except that Friday.
‘Ask her about it,’ Hörður said. ‘But don’t forget that Maríanna was beaten to death. It was a brutal attack, to put it mildly. We mustn’t forget that. Can you imagine Bergrún doing it?’
Elma pictured Bergrún. She was tall, delicately made and didn’t look capable of beating anyone to death. But appearances could be deceptive, and Maríanna had been small. It wouldn’t have required much strength to get the better of her.
‘The only man in Maríanna’s life was Sölvi,’ Sævar said. ‘We’re going to take a closer look at his movements; check whether his phone left Borgarnes at any point.’
‘You do that,’ Hörður said. ‘But could there have been other men in the picture that we don’t know about?’
‘Fannar,’ Elma replied. ‘We haven’t checked what he was doing that weekend.’
‘No. Just as well to have everything straight this time round,’ Hörður agreed.
‘What about Unnar?’ Sævar suggested. ‘The neighbour who lived in the flat above Maríanna’s and apparently used to help her with DIY, putting up shelves and that sort of thing. Could he have been out when we called round because he was trying to avoid us?’
The last patient of the day had cancelled, which allowed Bergrún to finish work unusually early. On the way home she stopped off at the Kallabakarí and bought a length of Danish pastry. She had a craving for something sweet, and the fact the police were coming round gave her an excuse to buy a sugary treat to serve with coffee. She had arranged for Bergur to visit a friend after school, and told both Fannar and Hekla to be home by four. As it happened, Hekla had football practice then, but she would just have to miss it for once.
Bergrún opened the garage door and drove the car inside. In the hall, she was met by the fragrance of lavender and vanilla. Lovely – but perhaps a little overwhelming? She removed the scent balls from the radiator. Her footsteps had a hollow ring as she walked across the tiles in her shoes. There was nobody home but her. Where were Hekla and Fannar? It was already half past three.
She put the paper bag from the bakery on the kitchen table and got out her phone, but Hekla didn’t answer. Bergrún hoped she hadn’t gone to football, forgetting that she was supposed to come home. If she had, it would be impossible to get hold of her for the next hour. Perhaps, Bergrún thought, she should ring Fannar and ask him to drop by the sports hall. On the other hand, maybe Hekla had gone home with her friends.
Bergrún considered giving Tinna a call. The two girls had met when Hekla started football training a couple of years back. Bergrún had found it absurd that Hekla didn’t play any sports, so one summer, when the girl was staying with them, Bergrún had signed her up for football, even though she would only be able to go to training sessions at the weekends she was in Akranes. What kind of parent wouldn’t sign her child up for any leisure activities? Children ought to do sport or play an instrument; preferably both. Bergur took swimming lessons and was learning the trumpet. Bergrún had mentioned this repeatedly to Maríanna but never got more than a vague reply.
It was fortunate that Bergrún had had the sense to sign Hekla up for football, since that was how she had met Tinna and later Dísa. Through them, Bergrún had got to know their mothers, particularly Tinna’s mother, Margrét. It had begun with an invitation to coffee one day when Margrét was picking up Tinna, and after that Margrét had invited Bergrún in when she came to collect Hekla. From then on they had started meeting earlier and sat chatting for longer, until in the end they didn’t need the girls as an excuse anymore.
Tinna wasn’t answering her phone, so Bergrún selected Margrét’s number.
‘They’ve been in Tinna’s room ever since they got back from sc
hool,’ Margrét said. ‘They claim they’re studying but, judging by the loud music, I find that hard to believe. Do you want me to send Hekla home? I can give her a lift as I’m on my way out myself.’
Bergrún gave a sigh of relief. ‘That would be great. You’re an absolute life-saver.’
‘We’ll be with you in ten minutes.’
‘Thanks, Margrét. And we must meet up soon. Why don’t you and Leifur come round for a meal at the weekend?’
Once they had finished their call, Bergrún glanced at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to four. She opened the kitchen cupboard, got out some plates and arranged the Danish pastry on a wooden board, which she placed on the table. Then she went into the bathroom, put more deodorant under her arms and sprayed herself with perfume. Her light-brown hair hung dead straight to her shoulders. From habit, she tried to fluff it up a little but that only ever lasted a few minutes. No matter what products she tried, her hair remained stubbornly flat and lifeless. She blinked a few times, feeling how dry and uncomfortable her contact lenses had become. They had been irritating her since that morning. Unable to bear them another minute, she took them out and put on her glasses instead, then looked in the mirror at the forty-five-year-old woman, who stared back at her and smiled.
There were two rings in Hekla’s left ear that Elma hadn’t noticed before. The girl was wearing a hoodie again, but this one was white with a large American flag on the front. When Elma and Sævar entered the room, she was sitting at the kitchen table with her arms folded. Her expression was one Elma had often seen on kids her age, a combination of indifference and insecurity, as if what was happening had nothing to do with them, yet they were ready to go on the defensive at a moment’s notice.
‘I’ve already told you that I went home after swimming,’ Hekla said in answer to their question. ‘At three, I think, and she wasn’t there.’
‘Your mother tried repeatedly to call you. Do you know what she wanted?’
Hekla shook her head.
‘Didn’t she know you were at school?’
‘Yes, but…’ Hekla hesitated. ‘I don’t know. We had a fight and then … then she left a note, and I just didn’t think any more about it.’
‘What did you two fight about?’
Hekla opened and closed her mouth, then shot a glance at Bergrún, who said: ‘It was about a football tournament that Hekla wanted to take part in. I tried to persuade Maríanna to let her come but…’ Bergrún shook her head. ‘Maríanna could be very difficult to talk to.’
‘Was that why you kept ringing her during the week?’
‘Yes. I tried to get her to change her mind. I said I could give Hekla a lift but … anyway, the disagreement escalated. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept on at her like that, but I just found her attitude impossible to understand. That she couldn’t even…’ Bergrún broke off mid-sentence and drew a deep breath.
Elma turned back to Hekla, asking: ‘Do you know if she was intending to go to Akranes?’
‘No, I … I don’t think so.’
Elma noticed that Bergrún was watching the girl anxiously as she replied. Feeling a movement under the table, she wondered if it was Bergrún’s leg that was fidgeting.
‘What did you do when you got home?’ Elma asked.
‘Nothing.’ Hekla picked at the black varnish on her fingernail.
‘Nothing?’ Sævar smiled. ‘You didn’t watch a film, or use your computer or phone?’
‘Yeah, maybe. Something like that.’
‘All right,’ Elma said. ‘What then?’
‘Just…’ The girl glanced at Bergrún again, then back at Elma. ‘I ordered a pizza.’
‘And you were alone at home all evening?’ Elma tried not to let her impatience seep into her voice. It felt as if every single word had to be prised out of the girl.
‘Yes,’ Hekla answered, without meeting her eye.
‘When did you go to bed?’
‘Around twelve, I think.’
‘OK,’ Sævar said easily. ‘And what about the next day? Didn’t you find it strange that your mother hadn’t come home?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hekla said. ‘No, not really.’
Elma groaned under her breath. It was going to be an uphill struggle to get anything out of the poor kid. ‘All right, what about later that day?’ she persisted. ‘When did you start to get worried about your mother?’
Hekla bit her upper lip before answering. ‘That afternoon. When I rang her phone and it was switched off.’
‘Had you tried to get hold of your mother before that?’
Hekla shook her head. ‘It was after lunch maybe when I first tried to call her.’
‘Why didn’t you ring back the day before when you saw that she’d been trying to get hold of you?’
Hekla didn’t answer, just shrugged and began picking the black varnish off her nail again.
‘OK,’ Elma said, looking at Sævar. He didn’t seem as exasperated by Hekla’s brief answers as she was. If anything, he seemed amused. But she wasn’t about to give up. ‘Do you remember when you last spoke to your mother?’
‘Er … in the morning. Before school.’
Hekla’s interview continued in the same vein, with every single detail having to be dragged out of the girl and every question eliciting the shortest possible answer. She had never met Sölvi, the man her mother had a date with; she knew little about her mother’s family and had hardly ever met her grandfather.
‘You were ten years old when you moved to Borgarnes,’ Elma said. ‘Don’t you have any idea why your mother wanted to live there?’
‘Maybe it would be better if I answered that,’ Bergrún interrupted. She ran a hand through her mousy-brown hair and adjusted her glasses. ‘When Hekla was ten, Maríanna did another of her little disappearing acts. Well, not that little, actually: she was away for more than a week. Luckily, Hekla was pretty capable of looking after herself by then and could get her own meals and so on. No one knew Maríanna had gone off until we turned up to collect Hekla for the weekend. Needless to say, we alerted the Child Protection Agency, and after that she spent the summer with us while Maríanna was sorting herself out.’
‘I see,’ Elma said, reflecting that after an episode like this it was no wonder there had been problems in Maríanna and Hekla’s relationship. Yet children could forgive their parents the most unbelievable behaviour.
‘Yes,’ Bergrún said. ‘After that, Maríanna wanted a change of scene. She moved to Borgarnes because … well, it was a completely new start and suitably far away from all the ghosts of her past. Of course, she should have moved to Akranes, which would have made life a lot easier for everyone, but I don’t suppose she would have wanted that.’ The contempt in Bergrún’s voice didn’t escape Elma or Sævar.
‘Right, Hekla, just one more thing to finish up,’ Elma said, looking back at the girl. ‘Have you got a boyfriend or a friend with a driver’s licence?’
Hekla appeared startled by the question and her eyes darted to Bergrún.
Bergrún exclaimed: ‘Of course she hasn’t got a boyfriend. She’s only fifteen.’
‘We’re just wondering how Hekla used to travel to Akranes.’ Elma addressed this remark to the girl. ‘We know you sometimes used to sneak over here. Believe me, I understand. When I was your age, I couldn’t see why anyone would want to live in Borgarnes. But we were just wondering how exactly you got here. Because, obviously, you don’t have a driver’s licence yourself.’
Hekla bit her upper lip so hard it turned white. Her frantic picking at her nail varnish sent small black flakes scattering over the kitchen table. ‘I just used to catch a bus or something. But I didn’t do it often. Maybe only, like, once.’
‘So there’s no boyfriend or anything like that?’
Hekla shook her head. Seeing that she was lying, Elma thanked her for the chat, then asked to speak to Bergrún and Fannar in private.
‘She’s not much of a talker,’ Fannar explained, once Hekla
had left the room. ‘Like most fifteen-year-olds.’
‘But she’s been happy since coming to live with you, hasn’t she?’ Elma asked.
‘It’s gone extraordinarily well,’ Bergrún assured her. She smiled and clasped the small gold heart on her necklace as she spoke. ‘She’d always wanted to stay with us. She didn’t want to live with her mother.’
‘Hekla first came to you after she’d been left alone at home, didn’t she?’ Elma asked.
‘Maríanna left her all alone for three whole days.’ Bergrún narrowed her eyes. ‘She was three years old. One evening, when Hekla was asleep, Maríanna just walked out. I don’t know what she was up to but she just abandoned her child.’
‘And Hekla was placed with you after that?’
‘Yes, not long afterwards. There had been other incidents; warning signs that social services had been noticing since Hekla had first gone to a childminder and later to nursery school. Things like nappy rash and her clothes being unwashed or too small, or Maríanna frequently turning up very late to collect her. Incidents that were reported to the Child Protection Agency. When she first came to us it was touch and go whether she’d ever go back to her mother, but Maríanna got her act together. Six months later, Hekla was sent back to her.’ Bergrún’s smile was full of bitterness.
‘But you carried on having her to stay?’
Fannar, who was still on his feet, gripped the back of Bergrún’s chair. ‘Yes. We couldn’t bear the idea of Hekla vanishing completely from our lives, so when it was proposed that we might like to be her support family, we leapt at the chance. We had her to stay every other weekend and sometimes more often.’
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