Contents
The Winter Trap
Author's Note
Map: Greenland
The Winter Trap
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
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About the Author
By the same Author
The Winter Trap
The Winter Trap
Greenland Missing Persons #5
featuring Constable Petra “Piitalaat” Jensen
Don’t miss novella #6 in the
Greenland Missing Persons series
The Shaman’s Daughter
Author’s Note
If you’ve just discovered this series of crime novellas set in Greenland, I would encourage you to start with the first book in the series: The Boy with the Narwhal Tooth. Many of the characters in this novella appear in the earlier books, and it might be confusing to jump into the fifth in the series without a little background.
The Greenland Missing Persons series features Constable Petra “Piitalaat” Jensen at the very start of her career. The repeat offenders among you – you know who you are – will know that we follow Petra’s career from Constable to Sergeant to Police Commissioner in my other books set in Greenland. These novellas are a little lighter in tone and obviously shorter than the longer works. You don’t need to have read any of my other books to enjoy the Greenland Missing Persons series; but of course, I hope you might be interested to learn more about Petra once you get to know her.
I’ve spent a little time with her now, and have come to appreciate her dedication to her job, her social naivety – although, she’s changing, with a little help from her friend, Atii – and the challenges she faces when trying to juggle learning on the job as a fresh-out-of-the-academy police constable, while taking on the responsibility of the Greenland missing persons desk.
It’s just a desk. Not a department. You’ll find out.
These stories are complete fabrication, with a lot of dramatic license injected into them. Many things are, however, drawn from personal experience. I spent seven years living and working in Greenland, in many of the places Petra visits. In fact, she lives in my old apartment in Qinngorput, in Nuuk. I did teach English at the Police Academy, and I met and was inspired by many incredible police cadets and officers, both at the academy, and in the settlements, villages, and towns where I lived. While I might have borrowed a trait here, and an attitude there, the characters in my stories are fictional. Their work and actions are fictional. But I hope readers will find the respect and appreciation I have for the police in Greenland, and Greenlanders in general, between the lines. Yes, there are bad guys in my books, and no, they can’t all be Danes!
So, without further ado, let’s get to it.
Chris
January 2021
Denmark
The Winter Trap
Greenland Missing Persons #5
Part 1
I don’t remember when we decided that Atii would be the designated driver when chasing a suspect, but her immortal words of I’ll go around rang in my ears as I pounded the streets in my size five boots. The late spring rain splashed in my face, plastering my hair to my forehead and soaking into my ponytail, as I slid my right hand to the holster on my utility belt and chased Uuko Taajuk around the side of Nuuk’s residential care home. He paused at the corner of the building, checking my progress, before grabbing a length of wood, discarded during the care home’s renovation.
“Don’t do it, Uuko,” I said, slowing as I neared the corner. “Don’t make this worse than it is.”
We stared at each other, both shivering from cold and adrenaline. I took a step towards him, curious how young he looked in the late evening twilight. When the report came in that an eighteen-year-old had just robbed the kiosk on Imaneq, Atii and I had been the first to respond. But looking at Uuko, either he was small for his age, or the dispatcher had it wrong; the wood spar he gripped in his hands was taller than he was.
And harder, no doubt.
“Let’s talk, Uuko.”
“Piss off,” he said.
I curled my right hand on top of my holster, ready to pop the strap and draw my service pistol. I slid my left hand around the top of my extendable baton. Uuko glanced down at my hands, then lifted his chin, staring me in the eyes.
“I’m not alone, Uuko,” I said.
“Why do you keep saying my name?”
“It’s what they teach us.” There was no sense in lying. “We need to establish contact, a relationship.”
“You want to be my friend?”
I bit my lip, thinking things through, as I took another step towards Uuko. The rain splashed off the side of the wall. More rain ran in a stream through the grit and sand on my left. Like most buildings in Nuuk, the home had been built on blasted ground.
“Do you need a friend, Uuko?” I nodded at the corner of the packet of candy poking out of the pocket of his thin jacket. His other pocket bulged with what looked like a super-sized can of Monster energy drink. “Do you need help?”
“You can’t help me.”
Uuko trembled, and I took another step closer.
“I can try,” I said. “Let me.”
Uuko paused for what felt like the longest time until the squeal of rubber tyres at the back of the residential home turned his head. He dropped the wood spar and ran, disappearing around the corner.
I ran after him, splashing through the puddles, stumbling over the discarded weapon.
“Inside,” Atii shouted, as she ran towards me, jabbing her fingers at a ground floor window. “He’s gone inside.”
I reached the window first, opening it wide and grabbing the windowsill, cursing as I scattered a row of potted plants onto the floor, adding to the ones Uuko had already broken.
“Come on, P,” Atii said.
She pushed at my buttocks, propelling me into the room. I barely noticed the old woman in the bed, before charging through the open door and into the corridor. Atii was right behind me. Uuko just a few steps ahead. He careened into the common room at the end of the hall and I followed, slowing only when Atii grabbed the back of my utility belt, pulling me to a stop as we faced a row of residents sitting in an assortment of wheelchairs and bolstered armchairs. They were arranged in a ring, like a police cordon, trapping Uuko between us and them.
“Uuko,” I said, catching my breath. “It’s time to stop now. Okay?”
Two nurses carrying trays of medication entered the room behind us. I kept my focus on Uuko, as Atii apologised to the nurses, then called for assistance on her radio.
“Uuko?”
The bright light of the common room lit Uuko’s face, throwing shadows on his gaunt cheeks, glistening in the rain soaking into his thick black hair.
“I was hungry,” he said.
“I know.”
Atii leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
“What did she say?” Uuko said, pointing a thin finger at Atii.
“She said we can give you a hot meal at the station. Get you warmed up.”
Uuko’s shoulders sagged, and he slumped into an empty chair between two o
ld men. I let my hands fall to my sides, dipping my head in what I hoped was a slow, reassuring nod, as I looked at Uuko. One of the men reached over the arm of his chair, curling tight-skinned fingers around the teenager’s hand as Uuko dipped his head.
“Next time,” I said, turning to Atii, pitching my voice low. “You do the running. Okay?”
“Sure, P.” Atii grinned as she stepped around me. “Whatever you say.”
Part 2
“You’ve done it now, Jensen.”
I closed my eyes at the sound of Sergeant Duneq’s voice booming into the common room. I pictured his eyes shining, the jowls beneath his chin wobbling, as he relished whatever reprimand he believed he was justified in giving. Of course, it had to be Sergeant Jowls who responded to Atii’s call for assistance. And I didn’t believe he just happened to be nearby. No, I could just imagine him back at the station, hearing the call, and rising from his desk – faster than usual – waving at the other officers to stay seated, that he would respond.
Perfect, I thought, as I opened my eyes and turned to face him.
“Sergeant,” I said.
“Two counts of destruction, Jensen,” he said, holding two pudgy fingers up in front of my face.
“Two, Sir?”
“Government – the window…”
“Was already open,” I said. “Uuko must have broken it.”
“…and a resident’s own collection of prized potted plants.”
I bit my lip, wincing as Duneq enjoyed the moment.
“Do you know how difficult it is to grow potted plants in Greenland, Jensen?”
“Yes,” I said, not really caring. Atii slipped past me as she and Constable Kuno Schmidt escorted Uuko out of the common room. She mouthed the word sorry and left me to it.
“Then you’ll appreciate that growing Venus flytraps is especially difficult in the Arctic, won’t you?”
“Sorry, what traps?”
“Venus,” Duneq said. He cupped his hands and clapped them together, interlocking his fingers like a mouth. “A meat eater,” he said, letting his hands fall to his belt. He tucked his thumbs into the loops at the sides, avoiding his belly spilling over the buckle at the front. “They are swamp plants. They dry out in our climate – they need constant attention.”
“I’ll pay for them, I guess.”
“Oh, most definitely you will. And you can start with the Saturday night shift.”
I almost swore, but it had become a pattern of late, ever since I was assigned the missing persons desk. Duneq was an expert at turning my successes into prolonged periods of weekend shifts and evening assignments, always just inside the limits of what the police union deemed appropriately proportioned overtime. I had already removed the few social engagements I had from the next month’s calendar. After crashing into a resident’s bedroom and causing additional psychological trauma according to Duneq, it looked like any plans I might have had for the summer were also now on hold, permanently.
Duneq continued, and I let him drone on, wondering if I was ever going to be released from his clutches. I thought things were changing between us. Others, the commissioner and Tuukula among them, had tried to convince me that Duneq was a good man, that he had my best interests at heart. I had even seen Duneq’s caring side, when he showed what I thought was genuine concern when Sergeant Gaba Alatak had picked me to join the Special Response Unit to apprehend a man with a gun. But even that moment was short-lived. And now…
“Constable?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts.
“This will go in your report.”
“But we caught him.”
“You trashed a residential home to catch a teenager for shoplifting.” Duneq’s jowls rippled as he laughed. “Does the word collateral damage mean anything to you?”
“I know what it means,” I said.
“Good. Then you’ll understand that part in the report.”
“Sergeant…”
“Naamik, Jensen,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s best you not say anything now. In fact, I think it’s a good idea if you stay here and help clean up, while we get Uuko processed at the station.”
Duneq turned before I could respond.
I took a moment to curse, silently, at his back, glaring at him as he waddled along the corridor towards the entrance. Then I followed, walking past the entrance and further along the corridor towards the room I had – according to Duneq – broken into and trashed.
I slowed as I reached the door, noting the name written on a card and tucked into a small metal frame on the wall beside the door: Ruusiina Magtikalât. It was her room I had trashed, her plants I had killed.
I took a breath and reached for the door handle, flinching as the door popped open and an old woman burst out of the room, closely followed by a much younger nurse. I caught a whiff of earth from the broken pots just as the woman thumped into my chest.
“Venus is missing,” she said, her eyes wild, thin fingers clawing at the folds of my jacket. “You have to find Venus.”
Part 3
I felt the pinch of the woman’s fingers through my jacket, and I reached for her hands, prising them gently free. The nurse pressed her hands on the woman’s shoulders, holding her, steering her out of the room as I backed into the corridor.
“The common room,” the nurse said, with a dip of her head indicating the far end of the corridor. Her eyes said help me punctuated by large black pupils, contracting instantly in the glare of the corridor lights.
“Okay,” I said, holding the woman as I walked backwards towards the common room.
“She has dementia,” the nurse said. “She’ll settle once she’s with other people. But it’s…”
Difficult. That’s what I imagined the nurse was about to say, as the elderly resident stared into my eyes, repeating the name Venus, over and over. If it had been Duneq’s intention to make me feel guilty, the old woman’s grip, the wild look in her eyes, and the urgency with which the nurse propelled us towards the common room, only made me feel worse. Added to which, I had a summer of weekend shifts to look forward to. Imagining the glee with which Sergeant Jowls would be adding my name to the weekend roster in thick strokes of ink to the whiteboard – permanent ink, if he could get away with it – distracted me as we guided the old woman to an empty chair in the common room.
She settled as if flicking a switch. Her fingers melted into a soft touch, compared to the iron grip with which she had first grabbed my jacket. I held her hand as the nurse fixed the old woman’s clothes, tidying her cardigan and buttoning it. She fetched a blanket, and between us we tucked it around the old woman, pinching the sides between her bony hips and the arms of the thickly upholstered chair.
“You’re all right now?” the nurse raised her voice, speaking in Danish.
“Aap.”
The nurse thanked me and took a step back.
“You’re leaving her?” I asked.
“She’ll be fine now.” The nurse pointed at the television mounted on the opposite wall. “She settles when the news comes on.”
“The news?”
“Aap,” the nurse nodded, pausing as if considering how much she could or should tell me. A quick glance at my uniform seemed to make up her mind. “I think she’s waiting to hear something.”
“In the news?”
“Imaqa. Maybe. I’m not sure. I only work here one day a week.” She shrugged, and added, “Still training.”
I smiled back. “I know what you mean.”
The old woman reached for my hand and tugged me into the vacant seat beside her.
“If you need to go,” the nurse said, with a nod at the old woman.
“I can stay a bit,” I said. There was little to rush back to the station for. Just getting back to the station would require a call on the radio. “They know where to find me.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Sure,” I said.
The news started. The Greenlandic edition
. I knew most of the stories already and would catch the Danish edition later to see if there was anything I missed. One item of news did catch my attention, and I turned to look at the television as the news anchor introduced a story from the south of Greenland, something about sheep farming.
“She liked wool,” the old woman said, turning my head with a soft tug of my hand.
“What’s that?”
The old woman stared straight ahead as she talked, and I saw a soft light reflected in her brown eyes. The light seemed to spread across her cheeks, shedding years from her face as she dipped her head, nodding as she talked. I resisted the urge to tuck loose strands of thin grey hair behind her ear, smiling as she did it herself, just as I would do.
“She loved sweaters. You know? The kind from Iceland.”
“Yes,” I said.
“She had so many. She wanted me to teach her to knit. And I did, when my husband was out fishing. Then, on weekends, when he was out drinking, we spent the evenings knitting together. We laughed. She had such a soft laugh – more of a giggle.”
“You said her name was…”
“Venus,” the woman said, with another tug of my hand. “That was her name.”
Like the flytraps, I thought, as another wave of guilt spread through my stomach.
Part 4
Atii pulled up outside the residential home and I jogged from the door to the passenger side of the patrol car, the rubber soles of my boots squealing on the metal rim as I slipped onto the seat. The rain pummelled the roof of the car and Atii raised her voice, practically shouting, as she filled me in on the station gossip since I had been away.
“Duneq is having a field day,” she said. “He’s really laying it on thick, how you bust into an old woman’s bedroom…”
“In pursuit of a criminal…”
“…scaring her to within an inch of a heart attack.”
“He said that?”
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