The Owl Always Hunts At Night

by Samuel Bjork

  Marianne?

  Munch made his excuses and quickly went out onto the balcony.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Holger?’

  He could tell from her voice. Even after all these years.

  That something was wrong.

  ‘Are you there, Holger?’ Her voice was trembling.

  ‘Yes, I’m here, Marianne. What’s the matter?’

  He found a cigarette in his jacket pocket.

  ‘Have you heard from Miriam?’

  ‘What, no? Not for a few days, why?’

  It grew quiet on the other end.

  ‘It’s just that …’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Munch said again, lighting his cigarette.

  ‘She was supposed to pick Marion up last night, but I can’t get hold of her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been looking after Marion …’

  ‘Is Miriam away?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Marianne went on. ‘I mean, I don’t want to cause trouble, but I didn’t know who else to call.’

  ‘Of course you should call me,’ Munch said.

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not, Marianne. I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Munch tried. ‘You know what Miriam can be like—’

  ‘She’s not fifteen any more, Holger,’ Marianne cut him off. ‘I’m worried. She was supposed to be here last night. She lied to me, Holger.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She said she was helping Julie with something, but I’ve called Julie, and yes, it took a little time, but it turns out it was more than that.’

  ‘More than what?’

  ‘A raid.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘An illegal raid. She wasn’t helping Julie, she just used her as an excuse.’

  Munch was struggling to keep up.

  ‘What raid is this, Marianne?’

  ‘It took time, but I made Julie tell me in the end. She has gone back to protesting again.’

  ‘Miriam?’

  ‘Are you even listening to me, Holger?’ Her voice was shrill now, and Munch finally was fully alert. His headache was gone.

  ‘Calm down, Marianne,’ Munch said, taking another drag on his cigarette. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. We’ve seen this before, haven’t we? It’s just like her. Rebellious. You know what Miriam is like, she always has to—’

  ‘Christ, Holger, she’s missing! Are you even listening to what I’m saying?’

  ‘Of course I’m listening to you. She joined in with a raid? What raid?’

  ‘Animal Protection League,’ Marianne said. ‘Some place out in Hurum. Only she was supposed to be back last night.’

  ‘Start from the beginning. Where was she going?’

  ‘Julie said that something went wrong,’ Marianne explained. ‘So it was called off. The raid. They had agreed in advance that they would go into hiding for three days, should anything go wrong.’

  ‘So she’s in hiding?’ Munch said, somewhat confused.

  ‘No, Holger. The guy who gave Miriam a lift is the one whose picture is all over the Internet.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘The man you’re looking for. From the other case.’

  Far away, on the other end of the line, Marianne sounded as if her strength was running out. ‘I’m scared, Holger,’ Marianne whispered.

  ‘Are you talking about Jacob Marstrander?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marianne whispered.

  What the hell?

  ‘When did you talk to Julie?’

  It was impossible.

  ‘Two minutes ago. Just now.’

  How could …? How did …?

  ‘And Julie is sure that Miriam got into his car?’

  ‘Julie told me about him. She was scared. She thinks something must have happened. None of the others can contact him either.’

  This isn’t happening.

  ‘Is Julie at home now?’

  Keep your voice steady. Don’t make Marianne more worried than she already is.

  ‘Yes, in Møllergata. Do you remember where she lives?’

  Miriam.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I remember.’

  Animal Protection League.

  ‘So will you talk to her?’

  No.

  ‘Of course, Marianne. I’m going to hang up now, so I can call her, OK? I’ll talk to you very soon.’

  This isn’t happening.

  Munch rang off and ran back to the incident room, where he was met by gawping faces.

  ‘Curry. Kim. You’re coming with me!’ Munch shouted.

  Two shocked faces looked back at him.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘The rest of you, I need everything we have about an attempt to free some animals, a raid that was allegedly planned to take place in Hurum a few days ago by the Animal Protection League. I need everything you can find. Start with Julie Vik. She’s our way in. I need that information now. Yesterday.’

  ‘What are we—’ Ludvig Grønlie began, but Munch was already out of the door.

  Chapter 74

  Miriam Munch woke up freezing cold. She tried to make herself as tiny as possible, curling up in a foetal position, tightening the small blanket around her shivering body. She had finally managed to fall asleep, exhausted, having crawled on her hands and knees for hours, but the hunger and the cold that slipped in through the cracks in the walls had roused her from her sleep and brought her back to this nightmare. She was still in shock. She had sat in the car. Going down the E18. She had been thinking about her parents. She had been a child again. Drowsy and warm. The contrast to the room she was now in could not be greater.

  A joke. That had been her first thought when the initial shock had abated. Where was she? An icy floor. A dark basement. Who was messing with her? She had not even realized the seriousness of her situation when the squeaky door had opened and the feathered creature had entered. She had thought it must be a dream. I’m still asleep. The terror had not come until later. To begin with, she had looked around with curiosity. Someone had built a strange room underground. She had felt very small in this dream. Like Alice in Wonderland. She had turned into a small animal. There was a big wheel in which she could run. A bottle of water on the wall with a spout from which she could drink.

  No no no.

  She was bound to wake up soon.

  This isn’t happening.

  Perhaps she should try thinking positive thoughts?

  Please, God.

  Marion. Perhaps she should try thinking about Marion?

  Help me.

  Perhaps that would help her wake up?

  Please.

  Somebody.

  Help me.

  Miriam Munch narrowed her eyes and tried to keep her hunger at bay. And the nausea. She had thrown up in a corner after going on the big wheel. Her palms and knees were smarting, but she had made up her mind not to cry any more. She had tried chewing the brown pellets that had come out of the wall and which were supposed to be food. She had swallowed some, but they had come straight back up again. She refused to do this. If only it hadn’t been so cold.

  Miriam carefully moved into a sitting position. She made an attempt to stand up, and slowly got to her feet, crouching at first, then she slapped her shoulders a couple of times and began bending her stiff, aching legs to get her circulation going again.

  Oh, God, she was so hungry.

  Miriam could see cloudy breath coming out of her mouth as she tried blowing a little warmth on to her cold fingers.

  Please, God.

  She was bound to wake up soon.

  Help me.

  Mum. Marion. Dad.

  Somebody.

  Please.

  Miriam jumped as the door opened and the feathered creature appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Jacob,’ she pleaded, retreating in terror to a corner of the room.

  ‘You’re not very nice,’ the feather-clad young man said, aiming a
pistol at her.

  ‘Jacob, I …’ Miriam tried again, but her voice failed her. All that came out from between her lips was a murmur which was swallowed up by the cold room.

  ‘Shut up,’ the feather-clad creature ordered her. ‘Why aren’t you doing anything? I’ve already explained to you how everything works here. And still you won’t do it. You were nice for a little while, but now you don’t seem to understand. Do I have to explain everything to you again?’

  The young man in the feathers took a step towards her and pointed the gun at her face.

  ‘No, please,’ she stuttered, holding up her hands in front of her.

  ‘Are you stupid or something?’

  His eyes were black. He shook his head as his feathered hand tightened its hold on the gun.

  ‘Is that why you could do it for a while, but not any more? Because you’re stupid?’

  ‘No,’ she stuttered.

  ‘It must be why, because it’s not difficult. Do you think it’s difficult?’

  ‘No, no,’ Miriam stammered.

  ‘Or perhaps you think someone is on their way to save you? Maybe some of your boyfriends?’

  He was grinning at her now. Glistening white teeth in the middle of his feathered face.

  ‘Or Daddy? Your daddy in the police? Do you think he’ll come to your rescue? Save his little girl?’

  Miriam Munch was shaking now.

  ‘No one is coming,’ the feather-clad figure in front of her continued. ‘They may be smart, but I’m much smarter. They’ll never find you.’

  He grinned again, chuckling across the barrel of the gun.

  ‘I could just shoot you on the spot, but that wouldn’t be any fun for the audience, would it?’

  Miriam had no idea what audience he was referring to.

  ‘This is my show. I thought of everything. Clever, don’t you think? It’s about being creative, putting on a decent show, something unique, something the punters are willing to pay for.’

  Miriam still had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘You’re lucky, you really are.’ The feathered young man smiled, a taut smile beneath cold, soulless eyes. ‘Very lucky, in fact,’ he continued. ‘You’re a star now. People have paid millions of kroner to watch you perform. And you weren’t even the chosen one.’

  The young man in front of her scratched his head with the gun and chuckled to himself.

  ‘Can you believe it? You weren’t even the chosen one – the other girl got three votes. They prefer the young ones, you see, but it’s my show. I invented it. The wheel. The writing on the wall. So I get to decide. I chose you because I like you. You’re special. Your daddy is a policeman. Wasn’t that nice of me? Not to pick the other girl, although they voted for her?’

  Miriam nodded cautiously. ‘Jacob …’ she began tentatively. She felt as if she had sandpaper in her mouth.

  ‘No, no, no,’ the man with the cold eyes said, aiming the gun at her again. ‘We don’t talk. We just listen.’

  Miriam closed her mouth and stared at the floor.

  ‘This is the last time I’m coming down,’ the young man said. ‘Now, you’ll do as you’re told; if not, I’ll have to fetch the other girl after all. It’s important to give the public what they’ve paid for, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ Miriam mumbled, without looking up.

  ‘Do you want me to shoot you now, or will you do as you’ve been told?’

  ‘I’ll do it now,’ Miriam whispered.

  The young man with the feathers looked for a moment as if considering whether she would keep her promise, then he lowered his gun and bared his white teeth again.

  ‘Good.’

  He chortled to himself before closing the heavy door, leaving her alone in the cold, dark room.

  Chapter 75

  Mia could not say where the hunch had come from, but there had been something odd about the white cottage in the middle of nowhere. Ever since her previous trip out here, she had felt it beckoning her. Jim Fuglesang’s house. All alone, surrounded by nothing. Frozen trees. Silence. Not the kind of silence that made her feel serene, like the peace on Hitra. Being by the sea. The cries of seagulls. This was different. Another kind of silence which made her sharpen her senses. She looked around warily as she walked from the car and up towards the white cottage. She was armed this time, and it made her more confident. She had felt naked the last time, a little frightened, and that was out of character. When she got back, she had not been able to work out what had triggered this reaction, and it had intrigued her; she knew that she had to go back, but with everything else that was going on, she had only made time for it now. Perhaps it was still not a priority, but a few hours could not hurt, and she wanted to get it done while it was still daylight.

  Mia was walking towards the cottage but stopped and changed her mind; instead, she chose a small footpath leading down towards the woods. She had already been inside the house. It was not there. Whatever she was looking for.

  Fourteen minutes on a good day.

  Jim Fuglesang had taken pictures many years ago. Glued them into an album. A cat. And a dog. Posed in a pentagram of candles, on feather beds.

  And yes, Mia was not like most people; she could not articulate her strange fascination with this place in the back of beyond, but it was there, and it made it simpler for her. She could set aside her feelings. Whether or not she could explain them was irrelevant. Because Jim Fuglesang had taken pictures of crime scenes involving animals, and they were directly linked to the murder of Camilla Green. And those pictures had been taken somewhere nearby.

  Sixteen minutes back.

  She had formed an impression of the landscape on her last visit. There was only one road to the house, and then a path that led down towards the forest. He could have taken the pictures elsewhere, of course. Anywhere, in fact; but it was less likely. Fourteen minutes on a good day, sixteen minutes back. Mia was convinced that this description must fit a place familiar to the man in the white bicycle helmet. On a good day. He was used to the route. Back. Back had to mean home, didn’t it? Fourteen minutes one way. Two minutes more the other. So downhill there. Uphill home. Mia pulled her woolly hat further down over her ears, convinced that this footpath must have been the one Fuglesang had talked about.

  A path leading to a lake.

  Damn it, why was she so jittery?

  She was normally never scared of anything.

  Four white rocks.

  Mia nearly jumped when she reached a clearing among the trees and saw them at the edge of a dark lake. Four white stones, neatly positioned in front of something which might once have been a jetty, and her heart beat even faster when she saw the boat which had once been new but now lay rotting, partly submerged at the edge of the lake.

  A red, wooden dinghy. With white letters at the top by the rotting gunwale.

  Maria Theresa.

  Mia Krüger looked up and spotted a small building a few hundred metres away. On the far side of the lake. A small house. Grey, as if all colour had been erased from its walls, its windows boarded up, uninhabited, abandoned, but even so …

  Mia fumbled to get her mobile out of the pocket of her leather jacket.

  There was smoke rising from the chimney.

  Fourteen minutes on a good day.

  Sixteen minutes back.

  Four white rocks.

  Maria Theresa.

  Bingo.

  Mia found Munch’s number on her mobile with trembling fingers, but the small gadget refused to obey her.

  No signal.

  Shit.

  She tried again, waving the phone in the air, walking up and down, away from the lake, then down towards the old jetty again. Still no signal. Mia muttered curses under her breath, put the phone back in her pocket, stopped and assessed the landscape, before deciding on the path to the left around the dark lake.

  The abandoned house had grey, wooden walls.

  Smoke rising from the chimney.

  Tre
es refusing to let her pass.

  The path ending.

  Uneven terrain.

  She took out her mobile again.

  Still no signal.

  Branches swiping her face.

  Shit shit shit.

  Her heart was pounding under her jacket when Mia reached the abandoned house on the far side of the lake.

  Boarded-up windows.

  Shut.

  An old, green Volvo.

  Mia crept across the small yard and peered carefully through the windows of the car. A Thermos flask. Cans of fizzy pop. A black bag. Mia carefully opened the car door, climbed across to the passenger seat. A handbag containing Kleenex, lipstick, and a purse with a driver’s licence.

  Mia nearly had a heart attack when she saw the face staring back at her from the driver’s licence.

  Miriam?

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Chapter 76

  Miriam Munch was kneeling on the unforgiving basement floor, trying to chew the small, hard chunks that had come out of the hole in the wall. Animal feed. She had vowed never to put these vile pellets in her mouth again, but she could hold out no longer. She was so hungry. Her body was screaming for nourishment. She had almost fainted inside the big wheel, where she had to crawl on all fours to make it go round. She had blisters on the palms of her hands, and bleeding cuts to her knees. She could not go on. She needed something in her stomach, or she would die. That was how she felt. She was going to die in this icy basement.

  Unless she had something to eat soon.

  She picked up half a dozen pellets from the floor and placed them on her tongue. Tried hard not to think about what they were made of, crushed them with her teeth, pretending everything was fine. She stuck her head under the spout of the big water bottle and swallowed as best she could, and this time the pellets did not come back up. Thank God.

  She put more on her tongue and repeated the process, chewing as best she could while trying to distract her mind, then drinking from the water bottle and swallowing them.

  Help me.

  Miriam tightened the blanket around her, and closed her eyes. She disappeared into her mind. This was not real. She was not here. She was somewhere else. She was at home. At the breakfast table. Marion had just woken up. She could smell freshly brewed coffee. Marion was sleepy. She did not want to take off her PJs. She just wanted to sit on her mum’s lap. In Miriam’s fantasy, there were no insects. No bugs crawling across the concrete floor. No icy gusts of a far too early winter coming through the cracks in the floorboards. There was underfloor heating. Marion wanted her hair in a ponytail. Johannes smiled at both of them. He did not have to go anywhere. Not to Australia. It was just the three of them. They were spending the whole day together. It was a day off. They were going to watch a movie and eat popcorn.