The Water's Edge

by Karin Fossum

  She stopped to catch her breath.

  Sejer stayed calm. They had speculated that this might happen, that another boy might go missing, but it had only been a police hypothesis, a scenario they had never really thought possible because it represented a type of offending which only happened elsewhere, in other countries. Under corrupt regimes, places marred by poverty and desperation like Russia, where the kidnapping of young boys was large-scale.

  'We need to take this step by step,' Sejer said, 'and it's possible that Edwin might come home while we sit here talking. We've seen it so many times and I'm sure he'll have a good explanation when he finally shows up.'

  He could tell she was trying hard to believe him, that she needed a strong voice, an assurance which could stem this tide of fear.

  'He hasn't had anything to eat for several hours,' she burst out, 'and he can't manage without food for very long!'

  Sejer started wandering around the room. There were several photographs of Edwin on the walls, but they were not recent, and he could see clearly how his weight had increased year by year. One of the photographs showed Edwin as a toddler sitting on a man's lap, and he asked Tulla Åsalid about Edwin's father.

  'He lives in Germany,' she replied. 'In Munich, he has a new family.'

  It had to have been Tulla Åsalid who had ended the relationship, Sejer thought. She appealed to all of his senses and despite the circumstances she retained a sensuality which could not be ignored. He continued wandering around. The living room was elegantly furnished. She had several paintings on the walls, good ones too. There were oriental rugs on the floor, cream-coloured curtains, and a scarlet blanket had been casually thrown across the sofa. Behind all of this lay only one clear thought: everything was irrelevant now. They were nothing but inanimate objects. Out of the corner of his eye Sejer could see Skarre making notes. Tulla listed names and addresses, she ran off to find more telephone numbers. She told them about Ingemar, her boyfriend. She had been trying to get through to him for hours and finally succeeded. When she heard his voice, she broke down completely.

  Sejer looked outside in case Edwin appeared on the road, massive with his dark, curly hair. He had experienced it before, he had seen the passionate reunion between a mother and her child when all dark nightmares had been slain. That was how he wanted it to turn out, he beseeched fate for a happy ending. For one horrifying moment he imagined child number three going missing and how the pressure from the public and the media would make his world collapse. He imagined criticism and being incapable of making decisions, endless press conferences with barrages of questions and condemnation and sleepless nights. He looked at a shelf with books, his eyes scanned their spines. Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence, The Conquerors by Roy Jacobsen, the Koran. On another shelf was a silver-plated infant's shoe and a piggy bank. His mobile started vibrating in his pocket and he answered it, still standing by the window.

  'Yes,' he said, 'that's correct. No, he's still missing, we'll stay here until her boyfriend arrives, he's on his way and he'll stay the night. We're calling Edwin's friends at regular intervals, we're having trouble getting hold of them. We've got two cars out looking, but we haven't heard from them yet. Yes, we'll pop in. That's fine.'

  He put the mobile back in his pocket. Thirty minutes later they greeted Ingemar Brenner. Tulla collapsed sobbing in his arms. They said goodbye for the time being and headed back to the station. Five kilometres later they drove through the centre of Huseby. Skarre had a map in his lap and was trying to familiarise himself with the area.

  'There's a new development to the west of Loch Bonna,' he said, 'and the roads there have quite unusual names. Someone from the council must have a vivid imagination. Listen to this. Detour and Shortcut. Sideline. First Exit. Last Exit. And this is the winner,' he said. 'There's a tiny little lane here called Naughty Corner.'

  'I've heard of that one,' Sejer said.

  'Where do you live?' Skarre joked. 'I live in the Naughty Corner and have done so all my life.' He folded up the map. 'I can't believe I just said that,' he said, embarrassed.

  'Why not?'

  'We might be dealing with an incredibly dangerous man and here I am making stupid jokes.'

  'It's all right to have a bit of fun at work,' Sejer said. 'We don't need to feel bad about that.'

  'Thank you.'

  'It's just comic relief. Go on, if it makes you feel better.'

  Half an hour later they were back at the police station. Skarre slumped in front of his computer as was his wont. Sejer started reading through his notes. Every now and then he would write a comment, a line to support why the evidence so far indicated that they might be dealing with a paedophile. You are weak, lonely and manipulative, he wrote, and you may be clever and intelligent, but you lack empathy. You seduce small children, you tell them that what the two of you have is unique and special. Don't tell anyone. I'll take care of you. You'll get whatever you want.

  He chewed the end of his pen for a while before carrying on.

  If you're not caught, statistics show you will abuse up to one hundred and fifty children. And if you are caught and everything comes out into the open, all the children you've abused will feel terribly betrayed because they all thought they were the only one, the special one. That's when disaster strikes, that's when their world falls apart. And you have not only stolen their sexuality, but also their entire future and all the things you did to them will haunt them until the day they die.

  He was startled when Skarre cried out.

  'What's happened?' he asked.

  'Ingemar Brenner,' Skarre said. 'Tulla Åsalid's boyfriend. I ran a check on him, just for form's sake, really, and there's only one person by that name in this area. He lives in Moløkka and he was born in '64. That sounds about right, doesn't it? That he's in his early forties?'

  'Yes,' Sejer said. 'That sounds right. Why is he there?'

  'He has two previous convictions. For fraud.'

  'You don't say!' Sejer rushed over.

  'Both charges were made by ex-girlfriends,' Skarre said. 'He conned them out of their savings.'

  'Are we talking large amounts of money?'

  Skarre read from the screen: '120,000 kroner in '96 and 210,000 kroner in '99. He got a custodial sentence on both occasions.'

  'And where was he sent?'

  'To Sem Prison.'

  Skarre shook his head.

  'He's in Huseby now, comforting her. And all the time his real interest is her money. If she has any. Should we get involved?'

  'Yes,' Sejer declared. 'We should, but not tonight. For all we know he might have come clean about it to her; for all we know he might have turned over a new leaf.'

  'Highly unlikely,' Skarre said.

  'Let's make another call,' Sejer said. 'Try Mathilde Nohr's mobile.'

  Skarre tapped in the number. She answered after four rings.

  'The police.' She sounded taken aback. 'I see. What's wrong?'

  'You have a son named Sverre?'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  He could hear that she was breathless.

  'Is Sverre around right now?'

  'Yes, he is. We're at my mother's, he's sitting in front of the television. What's this about?'

  'Please would you ask him if he was with Edwin Åsalid today?'

  'Edwin? Yes, of course. Just a moment please, I'll go and ask him, he's in the next room.'

  Skarre could hear her voice growing more distant. Some questions and answers. Then she returned.

  'He was out with Isak and Edwin,' she said. 'They went down to the loch. To Guttestranda.'

  'Did they walk back home together?'

  And this was when the penny dropped. He was a policeman calling to get information about Edwin. She was hit by the full force of what had happened at Linde Forest.

  'Dear God,' she gasped. 'Please don't tell me he's gone missing?'

  Again she had a muffled conversation with her son. Skarre could make out fragments, he heard the word 'polic
e' and 'Edwin'.

  'He was picked up by someone, I think, someone in a white car.'

  CHAPTER 22

  September 11th.

  'Have you had a letter from your school?' Sejer asked.

  'What letter?' Sverre and Isak looked at one another, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Oh, yes, they had got the letter. They had read it together with the grown-ups and had a serious talk about what it meant. But the letter was about the car that waited outside the school, not the one seen driving down to Loch Bonna.

  'Whom did you think it was?' Sejer said. 'Who picked up Edwin?'

  'An uncle, maybe?' Sverre said.

  'Does Edwin have an uncle?'

  He grew nervous and shrugged.

  'Did it look as if they knew each other?'

  'They were talking through the window,' Sverre said.

  His mother, Mathilde Nohr, pinched her son's hair at the back of his neck.

  'Now pay attention,' she ordered him. 'This is really important.'

  He nodded. He turned away defiantly because she had pulled his hair.

  Sejer and Skarre drove the boys down to Loch Bonna.

  'Why is the beach called Guttestranda?' Sejer wanted to know.

  Sverre put on a precocious face. 'Because boys and girls weren't allowed to swim together,' he said; 'in the old days, I mean.'

  'So is there a separate one for girls?'

  'Of course. On the other side of Svart Ridge and though it's smaller, the sand is much finer and we can wade almost all the way out to Majaholmen.'

  'What did you do while you were here?' Sejer asked.

  'We sat on the jetty.'

  'Did you see anyone?'

  'There was a man taking four dogs for a walk,' Sverre said.

  'Do you know him?'

  'We don't know him,' Isak said, 'but everyone knows who he is because he's always out walking those dogs. His name's Naper.'

  'Tell me a bit about Edwin,' Sejer asked them.

  'He doesn't say much,' Isak said. 'He's too busy trying to keep up and he gets out of breath, especially when we're walking uphill.'

  'He gets out of breath even when the ground is flat,' Sverre said. 'He gets out of breath if he as much as sees a staircase.'

  'What did you do once you were on the jetty?' Sejer asked.

  'We ate jelly turtles.'

  'Jelly turtles. I see. Are they nice?'

  'They're sour,' Isak explained. 'Edwin thinks they're cool.'

  Sejer surveyed the landscape. The beach was attractive. There was green grass, a jetty and some bathing huts. The bottom of the loch was covered with stones and, according to the boys, it dropped very deep further out. Three hundred metres with no warning, they explained.

  They went on to the jetty and sat down, letting their legs dangle over the edge. They could see their own undulating reflections in the water.

  'What were you talking about?' Skarre asked.

  'We were talking about Alex,' Sverre said. 'We often do.'

  'Who is Alex?'

  'He's our teacher, at Solberg School. We're in Year Five and we have him for nearly all our subjects.'

  Sverre brushed his fringe away from his face; his hair was coarse and the colour of copper.

  'Do you like him?'

  They glanced at each other.

  'We like him,' Isak said, 'but he's weird.'

  Sejer pondered their answer. 'Weird how?'

  'He lives with another man,' Isak said. 'He's gay, you see. They both are. Alex and Johannes share the same house. And the same bed.'

  They stared into the muddy water. The topic of conversation was making them embarrassed.

  'How was Edwin yesterday?' Skarre asked. 'Was he like he normally is?'

  'Oh, yes,' Isak said.

  'How long was he here on the jetty?'

  'I don't know,' replied Sverre. 'We weren't watching the time.'

  'There's something important that we really need to be sure about,' Sejer said, 'and that's the car. Was it someone you knew?'

  They both shook their heads.

  'Did the car stop down by the beach?'

  'No,' Sverre said, 'Edwin started walking. They met each other near that substation up there.'

  He pointed.

  'Could it have been the same white car seen outside the school? Think carefully.'

  'Might have been.'

  'And you can't tell me what make it was?' Sejer asked.

  'No, it was just an ordinary car.'

  'Was there more than one man in the car?'

  'No.'

  Sejer looked out over the loch again. To his left, he saw the headland, a narrow tongue in the water.

  'You told me that Edwin can't swim?'

  Isak nodded energetically.

  'He's let off,' he said, 'because he doesn't want to put on swimming trunks. Edwin doesn't do PE either. He can't manage to skip or jump over the vaulting horse. It's really hard for him to get up again if he falls over.'

  'Does he get bullied a lot?'

  They both shook their heads.

  'No, Alex gets mad. He won't let us.'

  They searched the jetty and the headland, but found no Edwin in Loch Bonna. Large, fat gulls screeched ominously at the search parties when they tipped out the rubbish bins in the area. The rubbish was scrutinised. Ditches, outbuildings and sheds were checked.

  'What do we do now?' Skarre asked.

  'We contact the council and get a list of all the residents in Huseby,' Sejer said. 'We get a list of everyone who owns a white car. Then we visit them and we interview them.'

  'There are three thousand people living here,' Skarre said.

  'I know.'

  'Three thousand,' Skarre repeated as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and started punching in the number. 'If we assume that each house has three inhabitants and that every household has one car, and many have two, we're talking about roughly one thousand cars, perhaps twelve, thirteen hundred.'

  He continued punching.

  'And if we assume, and I'm only guessing here, that every tenth car is white and I think that's a good guess, then we're looking at maybe one hundred and twenty people in Huseby who own a white car.'

  'Then we've got our work cut out for us,' Sejer said. 'Everyone will need to be processed, I want them all entered on to a database. Ask them about their job and civilian status, how long they've lived in Huseby and check them against our records. And if it's at all possible, I want the officers to check if anyone walks with a limp.'

  That night Sejer lay awake staring at the ceiling. He was scared of making a mistake, of overlooking or forgetting something. He was scared of relaxing or, for that matter, of falling asleep, because he would achieve nothing while he slept and he could not bear that. He lay awake imagining the man he was hunting. I'm coming after you, he thought, and I'm persistent. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will find you and hold you accountable, because you have not only violated Edwin and Jonas August, you have violated our entire society. This you must understand: there is not a single soul in the whole world who will forgive you.

  CHAPTER 23

  Kristine Ris pulled her nightdress over her head, the thin fabric caressing her back. She wanted Reinhardt to touch her like this, but he never took the time, and so it remained something she could only dream of. A finger tracing her spine from her neck to the small of her back and making her shiver. For a while she stood naked on the bathroom floor. It was seven in the morning, and Reinhardt was already dressed. She adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the shower, she lifted her head against the warm stream as she played a game. She imagined she was covered by a layer of worries and now they were being washed away like dirt before disappearing down the drain. She could hear Reinhardt pottering about, she heard the radio in the living room. Security, she thought, that's why I stay, that's why I put up with it. Dear God, I'm like a child. What I have now isn't what I dreamed of, but at least I know what each day will bring, I can see what th
e rest of my life will be like. She jumped when the door to the bathroom was opened. Reinhardt pushed the shower curtain to one side.

  'What's happened?' she said quickly.

  Clumsily she covered herself up with the bottom half of the shower curtain. Reinhardt gave her an outraged look.

  'He's taken another boy.'