Freyja wondered what on earth was keeping the vet. She had no wish to engage in further conversation about crime and punishment with a child whose mother had died in such traumatic circumstances. Her thoughts went to her brother and she wondered what the little girl would think of someone like him. ‘Prison. No one wants to go to prison, Margrét.’
‘Yes, they do. The people who are dead. The ones the bad men kill. They’d rather be in prison than dead.’ The girl fell silent and ran her eyes over the sleeping dog. ‘At least, that’s what I think.’
Margrét had a point. It was clear now where her thoughts were leading.
‘I’m sure you’re right. But sadly that’s not possible.’ Once again Freyja fought an urge to stroke the cloud of curly red hair, which was alive with static electricity from the little girl’s hat. ‘But, take it from me, it’s better to lock up the people who commit such wicked crimes than to kill them. Much, much better.’ She was aware how lame this sounded. If she were honest, the world would be better off without some individuals. But the call wasn’t for her to make – or anyone, probably. She wondered if she should explain to Margrét that the main problem with the death penalty was that it was impossible to reverse if the person turned out to have been innocent, but she didn’t get a chance. The door opened to reveal the vet.
The woman was holding two sheets of paper that Freyja assumed was the bill. She was alarmed to see that one sheet had not been sufficient. The vet asked Freyja to step outside with her for a moment, telling Margrét to look after Molly in the meantime. No sooner had the door to the surgery swung shut than she shook the papers at Freyja. ‘This was lying on the reception desk. It’s the medical notes for a dog brought in earlier today and the description of the incident is suspiciously similar to what happened to yours.’ The woman gave Freyja a sharp look. ‘Do you live in Grafarvogur? According to your ID number, you live next door to the dog that was stabbed there.’
‘No. I live in the centre of town, like I told you. Out on Grandi.’ On the other hand, her ex still lived in the flat they used to share in Grafarvogur. If the neighbours hadn’t moved, she thought she knew the dog in question. It was an infuriatingly noisy animal that used to make a terrible racket in the communal garden where it spent its days tethered to a post. It was as large as Molly but had seemed mostly harmless. Struck by a sudden suspicion that her ex could have been behind the incidents, she flushed. It must have been her brother’s comments that had given her the idea. Her ex had taken their break-up pretty hard and said some ugly stuff. But could he really be so angry that he would resort to harming Molly just to scare her? And practise on the neighbour’s dog first? The very idea made Freyja’s blood boil and from the heat in her face she guessed she was blushing again. What made it worse was that the woman didn’t seem to believe a word she said. ‘I moved ages ago but haven’t got round to changing my address with the National Register yet. My ex-boyfriend still lives there.’
‘I see.’ Whatever it was the woman saw, it did nothing to improve her opinion of Freyja, judging by the look in her eye. ‘Is this his dog, by any chance?’
‘No. He has absolutely no claim on her. This has nothing to do with any dispute about custody of the dog.’
‘What is it about then? It’s not every day that dogs are subjected to this sort of attack in Reykjavík. Two similar incidents in short succession are more than a little suspicious. The injuries are almost identical and it wouldn’t surprise me if the same person was responsible. Anything else would be too much of a coincidence.’ The vet put her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve half a mind to report this to the police. If your ex was behind the incidents and is planning to carry on like this, we need to stop him right now. Are you sure you didn’t see him at the scene?’
‘No, I didn’t. Please believe me when I say that I wouldn’t shield him if he was hurting animals. By all means call the police. You’ll save me the trouble.’ The conversation was cut short by a feeble bark from the surgery, although it was plain that the vet had not said her last word on the subject.
‘I couldn’t answer but I came as soon as I saw your messages. As soon as I could, anyway.’ Huldar was standing at the door of Freyja’s flat. He looked ready to drop but showed no sign of being ashamed, which, to Freyja’s chagrin, implied that he had a perfectly reasonable excuse. It was intolerable when your righteous anger turned out to be groundless. Beside him stood a young woman who introduced herself as Erla. She looked no less weary but her eyes were more alert, which made her seem less shattered than Huldar. Freyja recognised her as the police officer who had accompanied him to the second interview at the Children’s House, though now she was dressed in civilian clothes. As a result she appeared smaller and had lost the air of authority that went with the uniform. She seemed to have come straight from home, her wet hair suggesting she had just stepped out of the shower. Freyja could sense the woman’s dislike, though they hadn’t exchanged a word since they were introduced at the Children’s House. Goodness knows what she had against her. To avoid being flustered by Erla’s inexplicable hostility, Freyja pretended she wasn’t there and focused her attention on Huldar instead.
He was still making excuses. ‘There’s been a development.’
Freyja didn’t know what he expected her to say. She had called his mobile twice, sent a text message and phoned the police station as well, so it was pointless to pretend that it didn’t matter and that everything was fine with her and Margrét. But politeness kicked in and instead of snapping that he wasn’t the only one to encounter unforeseen problems, she replied drily: ‘Don’t worry. We managed in the end.’
Before Huldar could respond, Erla cut in. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’ She was surveying the corridor critically as she spoke. The duty of cleaning the communal areas was supposed to be shared among the residents, but as far as Freyja was aware, no one but her had picked up a vacuum cleaner and cloth since she arrived. It was now three weeks since it was last her turn to clean. To do Huldar justice, he didn’t turn up his nose in disgust at the state of the place, any more than he had on that other, happier occasion. But Erla was another story. ‘How come you’re living in a shithole like this? Is the pay at the Children’s House that bad?’
Freyja was furious. ‘Why, are you planning to organise a whip-round?’ There was no way she was going to tell them about her brother or explain that the accommodation was temporary. It was none of their business. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of Baldur and she had no intention of betraying him by discussing him with two police officers. As far as her brother was concerned, they belonged to the enemy; he would regard their visit as sacrilege as it was. She just hoped he never got wind of it.
Erla’s face darkened but a murderous glance from Huldar prevented her from retorting and she clamped her lips shut. Huldar turned back to Freyja and spoke in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I’m sorry; where you choose to live has nothing to do with us, obviously. We’re both knackered. As you must be too.’ He held her gaze for longer than was strictly necessary and she read in his eyes a plea not to refer to their earlier acquaintance in front of Erla. Perhaps they were a couple. Perhaps he had been using a false name because he was cheating on her. What a cliché.
Freyja’s manner became even drier. ‘No problem.’ She didn’t know which of them she was angrier with, him or this rude young woman. Him probably. Nevertheless, she avoided looking at Erla and reminded herself to behave as if she wasn’t there. Next time Erla opened her mouth she wouldn’t dignify her with an answer.
It was unusually quiet in the corridor. Her neighbours must have spotted the police car and decided to lie low or else sensed danger in the air. A visit from the police constituted a very real threat to the occupants of this block. Freyja wouldn’t have been surprised if a warning bell had jangled in the corridors when the patrol car pulled into the drive.
‘Could we maybe come in? I need to see for myself that everything’s OK. We need to talk to you too and I’d rather not do it out here.’
Freyja realised she had been considering his request for an embarrassingly long time when Huldar began to shuffle his feet. Erla, on the other hand, stood with legs apart and hands on her hips, as though she had been ordered to adopt a formal stance. In uniform the effect might have been impressive but in civilian clothes it looked mildly ridiculous.
‘Please, come in.’ Freyja stepped aside for them, annoyed with herself for giving way. Erla inspected the hall and what she could see of the flat with a supercilious air, while Huldar studiously ignored his surroundings. He was doing a bad job of acting like a man arriving somewhere for the first time. He wiped his feet thoroughly, then took off his shoes as a sign that he was coming further inside. Erla copied him, looking livid. Freyja decided to let them dirty their socks.
‘How’s the dog doing?’ Huldar glanced down at the bloodstains that Freyja had yet to wash off the floor. ‘Will it recover?’
‘She’s still a bit woozy from the anaesthetic and unhappy about the surgical collar but I gather she’s going to be OK.’ As if sensing that people were talking about her, Molly appeared at the door of the bedroom where she had been dozing under the watchful eyes of Margrét. The dog bared her teeth and emitted a low growl, the menacing effect of which was somewhat diminished by the cone-shaped plastic collar. ‘Hush, Molly.’ Freyja pushed the dog back into the bedroom. Margrét was sitting on the bed with her book, just as she had been the last time Freyja looked in on her. She couldn’t be persuaded to watch the film she had brought along. ‘The police are here about Molly. I’m going to close the door so she doesn’t bite them. She doesn’t understand that they’re trying to help.’ She smiled at Margrét who didn’t respond. As Freyja closed the door, the eyes of both girl and dog rested on her as if they were hiding something and couldn’t believe that they had got away with it. Freyja was tempted to fling the door open again and catch them red-handed. Instead, she turned back to Huldar and Erla. ‘You should be safe now.’
Huldar dropped his eyes from the poster in the hall, which he had been studying to avoid inadvertently catching sight of the bed. The poster had only just avoided the purge before Margrét came to stay. It was an advertisement for a gig by a heavy rock band that Freyja wouldn’t be caught dead listening to: she’d rather stand next to a pneumatic drill. Huldar seemed surprised to see it there. Freyja didn’t remember having mentioned whose flat it was during their night together. They’d been otherwise occupied. She decided not to correct the misconception that she was a heavy metal fan.
‘Could we maybe sit down?’ he asked diffidently.
‘Fine by me.’ She showed them into the living room where she took the only chair, forcing Huldar and Erla to sit side by side on the sofa like kids on a school bench, their hands on their knees, as if ready to leap up at any moment.
‘I received a phone call from the animal hospital. It was put through to me when your name came up.’ Huldar didn’t beat about the bush. ‘I understand you have an estranged ex who they suspect of stabbing the dog. The vet who rang mentioned that another dog had been injured as well. Apparently its owner lives in the same building as your ex.’
Freyja sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Margrét wasn’t in the room. The girl was still under the impression that Molly had probably hurt herself in a fit of exuberance. ‘I’d be extremely surprised if he had any connection to this.’
‘You didn’t mention any ex when they discussed placing Margrét with you.’ Huldar had the presence of mind to stop himself adding that she hadn’t said a word about him that other time either. After all, he was hardly in a position to complain that she hadn’t disclosed certain details about her private life. ‘If he’s violent, we’ll have to reconsider the decision. It raises doubts about the advisability of leaving Margrét with you. I think it would be safer to station a police car outside until we’ve proved otherwise.’
It didn’t occur to Freyja to refuse the offer of protection. If this surprised him, he didn’t show it.
‘Fine.’ Far-fetched though it was that her ex-boyfriend could have attacked Molly, all the indications were that the culprit knew her. He’d had her phone number, after all. Though admittedly she was in the telephone directory, so it would have been enough for him to know her name. ‘Although I very much doubt my ex poses any threat to Margrét, there’s no question that she’s in danger. Someone slashed Molly with a knife and I received a text message at the same time. Look. This morning I’d have said Margrét was safe here with me. Now I’m not so sure.’
Huldar read the message, showed it to Erla, then handed back the phone. ‘There’s no denying this business with the dog doesn’t look good. The only reason for doing a thing like that would be to get the animal out of the way to make it easier to attack you or Margrét. I assume the dog would leap to your defence.’
‘Yes, I expect so.’ Freyja wasn’t about to confide in him her doubts about Molly’s loyalty.
‘Did the dog use to belong to both of you or did you acquire it after you separated?’
‘After.’ Freyja didn’t elaborate. ‘And we weren’t married.’
‘I see.’ Huldar’s sigh was hard to interpret. ‘It’s only right you should know that we’re calling him in for questioning – tomorrow morning probably. I don’t expect anything to come of it, unless he makes a full confession, but I think it’s best to let him know we’ve got our eye on him.’
‘Definitely. Give him the third degree. It can’t hurt.’ Freyja leant back in her chair. ‘But he’s very unlikely to be involved. At least I’d be amazed if he was. He wouldn’t have the guts to take on one big dog, let alone two.’
‘Well, we’ll see what emerges. We’ll have the text message traced and if it turns out to have been sent from his phone, that’ll clarify matters. Though I doubt he’s that stupid. The text is bound to have been sent from a disposable SIM card, in which case it’ll take longer to trace. But that’s our problem. At present, the most obvious assumption is that it’s from your ex and, if so, the situation could escalate.’ Erla couldn’t suppress a grin as Huldar said this. It took all Freyja’s self-control to ignore her. ‘Any intervention from us can have the effect of provoking stalkers. It can make them even angrier with their victim because they tend to blame them for the humiliation of being questioned by the police.’
The word ‘stalker’ always struck Freyja as inappropriate, with its associations with deer-stalking in the highlands. The reality was far, far worse, as she knew from her work with the children of women who were being persecuted by their ex-husbands. She bit her lip and answered calmly: ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘Well, you can rest assured that nothing’ll happen while there’s a patrol car parked outside.’
In other words, as soon as they found a new safe house for Margrét, the car would disappear. She would be left alone with Molly who couldn’t bite because of the surgical collar. Perhaps the person who attacked the dog had been after her, not Margrét. She felt her palms sweating. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘Yes, actually.’ Huldar’s gaze was fixed on the coffee table. ‘The case has taken an unexpected turn. It’s right you should hear it from me rather than reading it in tomorrow’s news.’ He met her eye. ‘Another woman’s been murdered. Same M.O. Naturally that alters the situation. Margrét was right when she said there would be another victim and I don’t need to explain to you how incredibly important it is that we get the whole story out of her tomorrow.’
It took Freyja a moment or two to recover. What did it mean? That the person who had hurt Molly might be the man who had murdered Margrét’s mother? Exactly how much danger was the girl in? And herself too? ‘Are you sure it’s the same man?’
‘Without a doubt. We found the same type of message as he’d left at the scene of the first murder.’
‘Message? What kind of message?’ The question was involuntary. She had no real desire to know about the killer’s message. She just wanted the pair of them out of her flat and to be a
ble to turn the clock back to how things had been before. More than anything she longed for something ordinary, like a phone call from her friend Nanna to moan about her children’s earache. Right now it seemed unbelievable that she should ever have found it boring to listen to Nanna’s complaints. ‘What did it say?’
‘That needn’t concern you.’ Erla had found her tongue but evidently not her manners.
Huldar ground his teeth in an effort to control his temper. ‘I’ll fill you in before the interview tomorrow,’ he told Freyja. ‘We may need to ask Margrét about the messages in case she heard something that could shed any light on them. We still can’t make head or tail of either of them – the one found at her house or this latest one. Assuming there is anything to understand.’
The pleasure at having got in a dig at Freyja was stripped from Erla’s face. She breathed out heavily like a bull about to charge.
‘Fine. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to put Margrét to bed now.’ Freyja was seized with such a longing to throw them out that she twisted her fingers into a knot. They got the message.
Once Margrét was in bed and everything was quiet, Freyja went and stood by the living-room window. It had stopped snowing. The neighbourhood appeared utterly peaceful under its pristine covering of white. It seemed impossible to believe that somewhere out there lurked a man who would want to harm her or Margrét. A policeman had emerged from the car that was parked outside, and was leaning against the driver’s door, smoking. Glancing up, he spotted Freyja watching him and waved. Embarrassed, she dropped the curtain without returning his wave.
Neither of them noticed the movement in the garden across the street. The figure that had been standing there backed away and melted into the darkness.
Chapter 22
Tuesday
The ringing sounded uncomfortably shrill in the quiet house. Karl stared at the phone, its strident jangling filling his ears while he tried to make up his mind. Should he answer or leave it to ring? He knew who was on the other end and his hand hovered over the receiver while he vacillated. He had promised himself never to speak to his brother again. Don’t answer. Yet he was desperate to talk to someone, even Arnar. Go on, answer. Both were equally tempting.
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