by Sara Blaedel
She drove past the pharmacy and the old stadium, which had given way to a row of town houses. That’s where she used to play handball. She thought of Morits, their coach back then, and Arvid, who was the stadium manager and ran the concession stand.
This was where she lived her life. The memories came rushing in, but it all happened so long ago and she had done everything in her power to distance herself from her youth. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard now. Because after all, a lot of it had been good. She had kissed in this town, gotten drunk, and gone to plenty of parties.
But she did all of those things with Klaus.
THEY STARTED GOING out when Louise was a freshman. She didn’t have to strain to picture his face, his chestnut-brown hair and grayish-blue eyes, which were always warm even though he wore a leather jacket and tried to look tough.
He had been one grade ahead of her through her school years in Hvalsø, and she’d had a secret crush on him since the seventh grade—so much so that she didn’t even notice the other boys who tried to catch her attention. And her heart was about to break when he left school after sophomore year to become a butcher in Roskilde because she felt certain that once he went there, he would forget all about her.
But he didn’t. He faithfully held on, always asking if she wanted to come along whenever he made plans to go out.
She lost her virginity to Klaus. There had been a bonfire out by Avnsø Lake that evening. They rode their bikes home through the woods, and the next morning she lay in bed with her eyes closed for a long time, trying to determine if she felt different somehow; if maybe she was more grown-up or loved him deeper. And it was probably a little of both.
It wasn’t until he got an apprenticeship in Tølløse that he started hanging out with Big Thomsen and his crowd. Klaus was still the same person, but Louise didn’t care for the rest of them. They made her feel insecure because she was never sure if they were serious or just playing crude jokes. As she recalled, they always took it right to the line and sometimes they pushed their followers over it. Luckily Klaus didn’t adopt the same superior attitude or their relationship would have been over.
Louise wondered what the gang thought of her. She had never really mingled with the group—she mostly stayed with Klaus when there was a party, and otherwise they usually stayed in, spending time in her room or his, unless they were hanging out at the stadium. They got engaged on her eighteenth birthday. He had bought two thin silver rings from the jeweler on Main Street and surprised her when they retired to her bedroom after dinner with her parents.
When his apprenticeship ended, he was able to continue working for the butcher in Tølløse. One evening they had been sitting by Avnsø Lake, thinking about moving in together. As she recalled, it wasn’t much more than a month later that Klaus stopped by one afternoon to tell her about the farmhouse in Kisserup. The rent was just 1,625 kroner a month.
The house was vacant when they went to see it, and Louise loved it even though it needed cleaning and paint. An elderly man had lived there for the past several years before going to a nursing home. Later that same day, after signing the lease, they sat on the lawn beneath the large heritage apple tree, dreaming and making plans for the future. She had shaken her head at Klaus when he pointed out that the two smaller bedrooms behind the living room would make good nurseries.
Her only concern was whether Big Thomsen and his gang planned on moving in as well. It was always a great draw when someone got their own place; friends no longer had to hang out at their parents’ house and be careful to keep the volume down. As they sat there in the grass, she had told Klaus that of course he could keep seeing them. She just didn’t want to live with them.
WITHOUT GIVING IT much thought, Louise signaled and turned off toward Kisserup and drove past the gravel pit with a knot slowly growing in her stomach. She hadn’t been there since that summer. There were more houses now, she noted, slowing down a little. The road to the thicket by the house was just after a row of closely spaced trees, which all but obscured the small sign.
The house was at the end of the road. Louise’s palms felt sweaty against the steering wheel as she pulled over and decided to walk the last part of the way. There weren’t many houses along the narrow road, and theirs had been a bit farther down than the rest. The trees still hid the house from view like they did back then; it wasn’t visible from the road, which turned slightly just before the sloped driveway.
Louise walked along a row of tall trees that followed the field next to the property. She could hear voices. It sounded like children playing with water, whooping and cheering when they got splashed.
She felt cold inside as she stepped between the pines and pushed through the close branches.
The red timber-frame house had a new thatched roof; a large patio had been built in the back. Toys were scattered across the yard and two children squealed with delight as their father turned the water hose in their direction.
Louise slumped down, staying hidden behind the heavy bottom branches of a pine tree. The remains of breakfast were still on the table and a woman sat under a sunshade, nursing an infant. The family was probably enjoying their parental leave with their newest addition.
Louise noticed that they had planted small bushes in the spot where she had planned to put an apple tree. It would have grown big by now, she thought.
She didn’t cry as she sat there, breaking inside. It was no longer the kind of sorrow that brought tears. It had settled in a deeper place, and she realized that it had eaten away a bit of her life—or at least the life she had dreamed of having.
THEY HAD MOVED in on a Friday, having spent the previous weeks out there painting. Louise’s mother had helped them clean the house, and Klaus borrowed a van from his boss to move their things. They had spent their first night in the house on the living room floor because Klaus had started to unbutton her blouse and then they never really got any farther. At one point during the night, he had dragged in a mattress for them to lie on but they didn’t get much sleep. The way she remembered it, they made love until morning.
The following evening she had made plans with Camilla to spend the night at her studio apartment in Roskilde. A rock band was playing at the high school in Himmelev, and Klaus would never let her drag him along to something like that. So she left him with the boxes to unpack and promised to be back Sunday before noon so they could finish settling in.
THE MOTHER WITH the infant stood up. The baby appeared to be sleeping.
Louise watched as she gently laid the little one down in the carry-cot next to her chair before going inside. She returned shortly after with a couple of towels, which she tossed to the two older children. The father had begun rolling up the water hose. The scene of domestic idyll played on as Louise thought back to the day that hers ended.
SHE HAD RIDDEN her bike home from the train station on Sunday morning. She didn’t want to call and wake up Klaus to let him know that she was on her way, but she brought freshly baked bread from the bakery on Main Street—both breakfast rolls and pastries.
His motorcycle was parked in front of the house and the living room windows were open so she thought he might have gotten up early to start unpacking.
The door was unlocked but she didn’t take any time to puzzle over it. She was so excited to see him, she just walked right in.
He was hanging from a rope over the stairs.
LOUISE CLOSED HER eyes but stood up quickly before the images got too clear. With her arms in front of her, she pushed her way back through the pines and stumbled out into the road.
She froze for a second. For the first time in twenty-one years, she had allowed herself to think back all the way to the moment she stepped inside the house. She would usually force her memories to change course before she got that far. But today she had walked the plank, and as she slowly started to make her way back to the car, she tried to determine whether she felt more broken.
22
I
T WAS PAST noon when Louise got to the department, but instead of going straight to her own office, she headed directly for Rønholt’s front office. And Hanne.
She had to have a talk with the secretary. If their relationship continued down this road, it would eventually come to a crash, and she knew herself well enough to know that she might end up saying a lot of things that were both rash and filled with anger—admittedly not the smartest thing to do now that she had put herself in a position where she could get the boot on relatively short notice.
She had come to realize that she’d made a mistake in falling for Rønholt’s offer and his words of praise. There was no doubt in her mind that Eik had been telling the truth when he said others had been offered the opportunity to head the new special unit but had turned it down because it was a sinking ship. Of course none of them were foolish enough to put their steady and secure jobs on the line for a new unit that was at risk of being short-lived and apparently only served as an office where cases were pushed through in order to be closed and archived as quickly as possible. She was furious with herself now for not making sure that her contract stipulated her right to return to one of the established departments should it become necessary to close down this new unit after the trial period. She had been so eager to get away from the dreaded Michael Stig, who had replaced her old boss, that she acted without thinking.
“Come in!” Hanne’s voice sounded chirpy when Louise knocked but her smile faded when she saw who it was. “Well,” she said just before Louise stopped her, pulling a chair up to her desk.
“Hanne, what’s your problem?” she blurted out. “Why do you act like this with me?”
At first Hanne just stared at Louise as if she hadn’t the faintest idea what she might be referring to. Then she gave a small wave as if trying to fan away a smell. But perhaps she was merely trying to hush Louise. Still without saying a word, she reached over and picked up the top item from her letter organizer and handed it to Louise.
She accepted the file but let it drop onto the desk without taking her eyes off Hanne.
“Stop it,” she demanded, “and let’s just talk about this. We both know I’m not going to quit the department just because you don’t like my being here,” she continued, growing confused with the look in Hanne’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” the secretary asked uncomprehendingly, awkwardly flicking her big red hair a little as if Louise’s attack was coming as a complete surprise to her. “Why would you quit?”
“Because you’re being so rude, and frankly it seems as if you’d prefer it if I just went away. But I won’t,” Louise emphasized. “We need to figure out a way to work together, so it’s no use for you to withhold information about important meetings. Or for you to keep me in the dark about the routines of the department in general.”
There was a moment of silence between them; then Hanne pointed to the plastic folder on the desk.
“I’ve got a phone number for you. They got a DNA result from the woman in the woods, and I promised that you would call them back.”
She said it as if the preceding conversation never happened.
Louise contemplated her for a second. Then she sighed and picked up the printout from the Forensics Department. She still hadn’t gotten around to putting her name on her cubbyhole.
“Thanks,” she said and stood up.
ON HER WAY back to the office, she wondered what in the world she was going to do about Hanne. In the end she would probably have to speak with Rønholt.
“Hey!” someone called from behind her.
She turned around. When she spotted Olle, she realized that she never thanked him for the drawing of the kitchen rat.
He was tall and his hair was thinning at the top. Louise guessed that he was at least fifty, but a look in his warm brown eyes, which kept smiling as he walked toward her, made his age difficult to pinpoint.
“Did you like it?” he asked expectantly, like a child who drew a picture for his parents.
Louise wasn’t sure if it was her expression or because she waited too long to answer, but in any event, he seemed to catch on to the fact that she probably wasn’t a major fan of cartoons.
“I can make something else,” he quickly offered. “I just thought I should make you something now that you’re going to be working with us.”
“No-no,” she burst out, embarrassed that he should have to suffer for her irritable mood. “It’s really cool and it was so nice of you. I didn’t even know you had that kind of talent.”
“I’ve got all kinds of talent,” he retorted in a velvety smooth voice, stepping closer and smiling.
Louise was so taken aback at his undisguised flirtation that she couldn’t think to do anything but just stand there with a sheepish smile.
“You be sure to let me know if you feel like exploring some of the other ones,” he went on as she slowly began to take a few steps backward.
“Olle!”
Eik came out of the cleaning room, tucking his pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
“She’s mine.”
Louise turned around, feeling relieved that her rescuer wasn’t having lunch at Posten with the others. She gave a quick nod to the tall, gangly cartoonist and fled down the hall toward the Rathole.
“DID YOU ATTEND the managers’ meeting?” Louise asked as she walked through the door. Then her nose caught a strange smell in the office and she fell silent. Her initial thought was that maybe the rats were back.
Eik had pushed their desks up against the wall to make room on the floor.
“I was busy,” he declared without looking at her. His desk was a mess of papers, which lifted as the wind caught them. “I printed out information on every registered Toyota HiAce that’s white with no windows, and I was working on screening out the newer models when they called from the Forensics Department to say that we could come pick up Lise Andersen’s clothes.”
As Louise walked over to her desk and put down her bag, she realized that the musty smell was coming from the clothes.
He was laying them out on the floor. He had already smoothed out the rust-red, smock-like dress and was now placing a pair of navy-blue ankle socks next to it.
“They’re completely worn out.” He held out one of them to show her the large holes. “That’s why it looked like she’d been walking barefoot.”
Louise nodded.
“I’m just trying to see if maybe there’s something about her clothes that might give us a clue to go on. But the dress doesn’t have a tag, and if you come over here you’ll see that the fabric is worn completely shiny. It’s old.”
But Louise didn’t look at the dress. Instead she looked at him as he proceeded to pick up an undershirt from the small cardboard box. Even though Eik was too much in every way, she had to admit that Rønholt was right about him being energetic and good at finding new angles.
“They got a DNA result,” Louise told him. She dialed up the DNA section of the Forensics Department.
Eik had finished laying out the clothes and walked over to get the camera from his desk. Then he began to photograph each piece of clothing.
“I guess it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to trace the dress,” he assessed while Louise waited for her call to be transferred.
He had made no comments on the fact that she had come in late, nor her calling in sick the previous day. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed, she thought, and told the man who picked up her call which case she was calling about. “You asked me to call.”
To Eik, Louise mouthed They got a positive DNA match. The man who had intercourse with Lisemette before she fell to her death was already in the police DNA database.
She was about to ask for the civil registration number when the man added that the person was identified by neither name nor civil registration number. His DNA alone was linked to another case. The perpetrator’s identity was unknown.
“But there must be a reference number?” she interjected and jotted it down as he read out the
information.
She quickly wrapped up the call and punched in the reference number. Her fingers froze over the keys as she started to read.
“It’s him!” she said without taking her eyes off the screen to look at Eik, who was on the floor with the camera.
“Who?” he asked.
“It’s the same guy,” she said. “The man who killed the child care provider also had intercourse with Lise. And when I was talking to Mik it sounded like he was pretty sure that the perpetrator could also be linked to the missing runner.”
Eik left the camera on the floor as he got to his feet and walked over to stand behind her chair.
“But if it’s him then why didn’t he hurt Lise?” he asked. “There isn’t the slightest indication that she was the victim of an assault. Her clothes weren’t disheveled, and there were no tears or hematomas on her lower body.”
Louise shook her head, momentarily unable to think of an answer.
“Maybe she didn’t try to fight it?” she finally suggested, following him with her eyes as he returned to the clothes on the floor.
“You think he took his leisurely time to undo the whole long fastening in her dress? And what about her underwear? None of the things are torn or ripped. I’m not buying that this was rape,” he concluded.
“Then what do you think?” Louise asked, growing exasperated as he merely shrugged and reached for the camera.
“I think they knew each other,” he said, looking up at her. “And if that’s the case, then he might also have access to Mette.”
23
