by Samuel Bjork
“Just a Farris and a sandwich for me and a beer for you. I didn’t know if you wanted anything else.”
“No thanks, a beer would be great,” Mia said.
Holger glanced around the charming, rustic beer garden. “I haven’t been here for ages.”
“Me either.” Mia smiled.
They both knew when the last time had been, but neither was prepared to say. A glance and a nod were enough. They had sat here, at the same table, two years ago while the allegations against her were being investigated. Mia had been down in the dumps, and Holger was the only person she could talk to. Somehow a photographer from Dagbladet had found them and started taking photographs, refusing to leave them alone. Holger had politely but very firmly escorted the photographer out of the bar. Mia had to smile at the memory. He really had been very chivalrous. She’d needed him then. This time he needed her.
“I wasn’t trying to make a drama out of it. I just haven’t got the energy to do this on the phone. It’s not serious—I mean, it’s not as important as the case—but all the same I would like your advice,” Holger said.
A waitress appeared with their order. A bottle of mineral water and a prawn sandwich for Holger, a beer for Mia.
“Hope you enjoy it, and just let me know if you need anything else,” the waitress said before she disappeared.
“And besides, we haven’t yet celebrated that we’re back.” Holger smiled and raised his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Mia smiled, too, and took a sip of her beer.
She was loath to admit it, but it tasted wonderful. It hit just the right spot. She had to be careful, she was only too aware of it, but at this moment in time it was the way it was going to be. She deserved to relax. Holger ate his prawn sandwich without saying very much. He pushed his plate aside when he’d finished and lit another cigarette.
“Did you find anything useful among Bakken’s belongings?”
“A laptop and an iPhone,” Mia told him.
“Good. Anything of interest?”
“Don’t know yet. Gabriel is checking them out as we speak.”
“What do you make of him?”
Mia gave a light shrug and took another sip of her beer. “I haven’t had time to talk to him all that much, but he seems like a nice guy. Young, of course, but that’s not necessarily bad.”
“I have a good feeling about him,” Holger said, blowing smoke up into the air. “Sometimes it can be wise to recruit from the outside. A fresh pair of eyes not tainted by police thinking. We tend to develop tunnel vision, don’t you agree?”
“You might be right.” Mia nodded. “Certainly seems like he knows his stuff.”
Holger chuckled. “Ha, ha, yes, he’s not underqualified, to put it mildly. I got his name from MI6 in London. He cracked the code, you know, that challenge they posted on the Net last year?”
Mia shrugged her shoulders again. “So you went to see your lawyer?”
“Yes, damn him.” Holger heaved a sigh. “Don’t really know where to start. Like I said, it’s not difficult, but even so, I’ve had a lot going on recently. Miriam is getting married, and—”
“Good God, that’s wonderful, I didn’t know.”
Mia realized it made her really happy. She liked Miriam enormously. They had hit it off the moment they met. She knew that the relationship between Miriam and her father was strained, but she had always imagined that it would work itself out, given time.
“Oh, yes, it’s great,” Holger agreed.
“Am I right in thinking she’s still with Johannes? Has he finished medical school now?”
Holger nodded.
“So are we playing Twenty Questions?” Mia teased.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to guess what it is you wanted to talk to me about? Is that how it works?”
Holger chuckled to himself. “You haven’t changed much, have you? Just as lippy, still not showing respect, eh? I am your boss—you know that, don’t you? The way this works is that you shut up and do whatever I tell you.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Mia assured him.
“It’s a bit awkward. I don’t know how to say it. It really bugs me.”
“Okay, start at the beginning,” Mia said.
“Right,” Holger said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You know my mother?”
“Yes, what about her?”
“You know I moved her to a home a few years ago?”
“Yes, what about it? Is she not well?”
“Oh, no, there’s nothing wrong with her. Her legs aren’t so good, so at times she uses a wheelchair, but that’s not the problem.”
“Does she not like it up there?”
“She didn’t to begin with, but that changed quickly. She met other people in the same situation, made friends, joined a sewing club, so no, that’s not it. Only she has suddenly gotten it into her head that she’s a Christian.”
“What do you mean? Christian Christian? Has she found God?”
Holger nodded.
“Wow, I thought you came from a family of atheists.”
“That’s what’s so strange, I’ve never heard her talk about religion or anything like that, but then she changed from one day to the next. Started to attend services every week at some church, along with friends of hers from the sewing circle.”
“It might be her age,” Mia said. “What would we know about getting old? Perhaps there’s no harm in it? Having something to believe in?”
Holger stubbed out the cigarette and lit another one. “She has decided to leave all her money to the church.”
“No shit?”
“Quite.” He threw up his hands. “So do I go along with it?”
“Are we talking about a lot of money?”
“No, not a whole lot, but even so. There is her apartment in Majorstua. Her cabin in Larvik. And she has plenty in the bank—she hasn’t spent any of the money my father left her. It’s not that I care about the money, but I had always imagined that it would be passed on . . . you know, to Marion, so that she’s provided for. Family inheritance and all that.”
Mia understood. Holger had a lovely but dangerously close relationship to his granddaughter. Mia was convinced that if anyone told him to cut off his arm for her, he would do it without hesitation. Without an anesthetic. Here you are, one arm, do you need another one?
“Ouch, that’s a tricky one,” she said aloud.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? So do I go along with it?”
“Well, it’s complicated.”
“I do understand that it’s just money, and seriously, we have more important things to worry about. Two six-year-old girls are dead and another eight dresses are out there. It’s a goddamned nightmare. I don’t even want to think about it. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, I can barely sleep, I lie awake waiting for the phone to ring telling me that another girl has disappeared. Do you understand?”
Of course she did. She felt exactly the same.
“So that’s why I didn’t want to do this on the phone. It’s hardly relevant in the greater scheme of things. And I didn’t want anyone to know that I’m spending my time on anything other than catching this bastard.”
“Let’s hope we’re talking about just the one,” Mia said.
“Do you think there could be more?”
‘Well, we need to keep an open mind. I have been a bit—” Mia said, but interrupted herself.
“Been what?”
“Oh, I don’t know what you would call it . . . not quite focused. I can’t get into it. I can’t see the picture. There’s something behind the pattern, I know it, it’s screaming at me, it’s as clear as daylight, but I can’t see it—if you understand what I mean.”
“It’ll come,” Munch reassured her. “You’ve been out
of the loop. That’s all it is.”
“Probably,” Mia said softly. “Let’s hope so. To be honest, I feel a bit useless. I feel sorry for myself. I act like a brat. That’s not me. I hate myself when I’m like this. If it turns out I can’t focus, promise me you’ll take me off the case?”
“I need you, Mia,” Munch said. “There’s a reason I brought you back.”
“To sort out your family problems?”
“You know something, Mia? Screw you.”
“Screw you, too, Holger. I was doing fine where I was.”
The two colleagues exchanged an affectionate look that needed no further explanation.
Holger lit another cigarette while Mia took another sip of her beer and tightened the blanket around her.
“Hønefoss was in 2006, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“September,” Holger replied. “Why?”
“If she were still alive, she would have started school this year. Have you thought about that?”
“The thought had occurred to me,” Holger said. “Gabriel said something that got me thinking.”
“What was it?”
“That we might be looking for a teacher, something along those lines.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Perhaps he has the makings of a police officer after all.”
“You don’t think she’s still alive?” Holger asked.
“What do you mean?”
“It was the way you said it: ‘If she were still alive.’ The girl who disappeared. We never found her. She might still be alive.”
“No,” Mia said.
“You sound so sure.”
“She’s not alive.”
Holger glanced at his cell phone. “I have to run. Got some paperwork to do before I go to bed. Mikkelson is pestering me.”
“I thought Anette was dealing with that side of things.”
“She does as much as she can.” Holger got up and took out his wallet.
“My treat,” Mia insisted.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I understand your family is about to run out of money, it’s the least I can do.”
“Ha, ha,” he laughed.
“Will there be a full briefing tomorrow morning?”
“I hadn’t planned on one. Let’s see what we get from the laptop and the iPhone.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” Mia promised.
“Yes, please. See you later.”
She stayed behind contemplating the empty beer glass on the table in front of her after Munch had left. She fancied another one but wasn’t convinced that it was a wise move. The hotel room would be a better option. Go to bed early in clean sheets. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the glass while she ran the case through her head to make her brain wake up.
“Can I get you anything else?”
The waitress was back, regarding Mia with a smile on her lips.
“Yes, another beer, please. And a shot of Ratzeputz schnapps.”
“Certainly.” The girl turned and disappeared.
“Mia?”
A familiar and yet unknown face appeared behind a glowing cigarette in the courtyard. A woman Mia’s own age came over to her table.
“Don’t you recognize me? Susanne. From Åsgårdstrand?”
The woman bent down and gave Mia a warm hug. Of course. Susanne Hval. She had lived a few doors down the street. One year younger than Sigrid and Mia. A long time ago, the three of them had been close friends.
“Hi, Susanne. Sorry, I was completely lost in my work.”
“I understand. I hope I’m not intruding. Is it all right if I sit down?”
“Yes, of course,” Mia said, gesturing to the chair Holger had just vacated.
“Well, who would have thought it?” Susanne laughed. “How long has it been?”
“Far too long.”
Her old friend gazed at Mia with a big smile on her face. “I haven’t seen you since . . . Well, I saw you in the newspaper—do you mind my bringing that up?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Mia assured her.
“So what happened? After the investigation and everything?”
“I went on holiday.”
Mia had thought about Susanne several times over the years, especially after Sigrid died. They had met again at Sigrid’s funeral, but Mia hadn’t seen her since or contacted her either. There had just been so much to do. It felt good to see her old friend again.
The waitress returned with the beer and the Ratzeputz schnapps.
“Do you want anything?” she asked.
Susanne shook her head. “I have a beer inside. I’m here with some people from work.”
She said the latter to Mia with a hint of pride in her voice.
“So you’ve moved to Oslo?” Mia asked.
“Yes, four years ago.”
“Great, what do you do?”
“I work at the National Theater.” Susanne smiled.
“Wow, congratulations.”
Mia could vaguely remember Susanne being very keen for her to join an amateur theater group in Horten, but fortunately Mia had managed to get out of it. Being onstage was most definitely not for her. The very thought made her shudder.
“I’m only an assistant director, but even so, it’s a lot of fun. We’re about to open with Hamlet. Stein Winge is directing. It’s going to be a hit, I think. You should go. I have spare tickets for the first night. Would you like to?”
Mia smiled faintly. She recognized Susanne now. The energetic, open girl everyone liked so much. The warm gaze it had always been difficult to say no to.
“Perhaps,” she hedged. “I’m quite busy at work at the moment, but let’s see if I can find the time.”
Susanne laughed. “God, it’s so good to see you. Listen, why don’t I go get my beer? The actors only care about themselves. They’ll never notice if I’m gone.”
“You do that.” Mia smiled.
“You wait here, don’t go away.”
Susanne quickly stubbed out her cigarette and half ran into the bar to fetch her drink.
26
Tobias Iversen had set the alarm clock for six and woken up as soon as it sounded. He quickly reached over to the bedside table to turn it off, as he didn’t want the shrill noise to wake anyone else in the house. His younger brother, Torben, was not at home. He was having a sleepover with a friend from school. Tobias slipped out of bed and got dressed as quietly as he could. Everything was ready; he had been planning this trip for several days. His knapsack was all packed and waiting at the foot of his bed. He didn’t know for how long he would be away, but he had brought extra supplies just to be on the safe side. He had a tent that slept two people, his sleeping bag, a camping stove and some food, his knife, a spare pair of socks and spare sweater, in case it got cold, his compass, and an old map he’d found in the loft. He was all set to go exploring and could not wait to get out of the house.
In the days after he and his brother had found the girl hanging from the tree in the forest, being at home had been slightly less bad. His mother and stepfather had had a lot of visitors, mostly police officers, who asked questions and kept probing, and his mother and stepfather had been on their best behavior; they had even tidied the house. The living room looked completely different now—it even smelled nice. The police officers had been really kind. Treated him almost like a hero, told him how good he’d been, how he’d done all the right things. Tobias had been almost embarrassed. He wasn’t used to so much praise. The police officers had been around for several days—not during the nights but from early in the morning to late at night. They had cordoned off the area with red-and-white plastic tape that said POLICE to keep nosy people at bay. And there were plenty of those, from both the village and elsewhere. Farther down the road, there’d been cars from TV stations, there�
�d been helicopters in the air and plenty of journalists and photographers around, and several of them had wanted to talk to Tobias. In the days following the discovery, the family’s phone did not stop ringing, and he had heard his mother talk to somebody about money, that they would get paid lots if the boys were prepared to be interviewed, but the police had said no, prohibited it, and, to be honest, Tobias was relieved at that. People had already started to treat him differently during break time at school. Most of them, especially the girls, thought it was cool—he’d become a kind of local celebrity—but it had also sparked trouble, because some of the boys, especially the two new ones from Oslo, had grown jealous and started saying bad things about him. Tobias asked his mother if he could take a few days off school, because the journalists would come to his school as well, taking pictures of him while he kicked a football around and calling out to him to come over to the fence. He didn’t, obviously; the police had told him not to talk to anyone about what he’d seen, and he wanted to do as the police officers said. Dressed in white plastic hazmat suits, they had searched the whole forest. Tobias sat on a chair outside watching them. No one else was allowed to do that. Even NRK and TV2 and everyone else had to wait at the end of the road behind the cordon and could only shout whenever someone drove past. But he was the one who had found her, and he knew every tree stump in the forest, and he soon got to know the police officers. There was one named Kim, one named Curry, and another one named Anette, and then there was their boss, who had a beard and whose name was Holger. The boss had not been there very often, only once, but it was he who had interviewed Tobias and he who’d decided that no one was allowed to talk to anyone about what the boys had seen. Tobias had spoken mostly to the police officer named Kim, and quite a lot with the one named Curry. Tobias liked them both enormously. They hadn’t treated him like a child, but more like a grown-up. Often they would leave the forest and walk down to the yard where he sat to ask him questions. Were there usually many people in the woods? Had he built the little hut inside? Questions about their neighbors. Did he remember seeing anything suspicious recently? On the first evening, a psychologist had visited the house with an offer of counseling, so he’d chatted with her for a little while. That had been all right, but he had not been particularly upset at finding the girl, because it had taken a few days before the truth of what he’d seen began to sink in. That was when it hit him. He’d been sitting on the steps when it dawned on him. That it was real. That the girl in the tree, whose name was Johanne, had had parents, and a sister, and aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends and neighbors, and that now she was gone and they would never see her again. And that someone had done this to her on purpose, not far from his house, and Tobias had shuddered at the thought that it could have been him hanging from the tree. Or his younger brother. He had felt really bad inside and had to go upstairs to lie down in his bed, and that night he’d had terrible nightmares. About people putting a jump rope around his neck and hanging him and shooting sharp arrows at him, and he’d heard Torben calling out for help, but he was unable to free himself, he was trapped, and he struggled frantically, unable to breathe. Tobias had woken up covered in sweat and with his hair plastered to the pillow.
