by Samuel Bjork
Mia could feel that she was panicking but managed to calm herself down, push the panic aside. She breathed deeply into her diaphragm and looked around. Her police gaze. She was in a small house. A cabin. No, a house. The windowsills were white. The countryside. She was in the country. There was film of some kind on the windowpanes. You could look out, but no one could look in. Warmth and crackling behind her. An oven, no, an open fireplace. A sofa. A chair. 1960s. A rug on the floor. Multi-coloured. A door to the left. An old fridge. The kitchen. Another door. Ajar. A passage. A pair of muddy boots. A sweater. A raincoat.
‘Yes, it’s nice here, isn’t it,’ Karen said, putting the bottle on the floor. ‘Would you like me to show and tell?’
Mia tried to say something but managed only gurgling in her throat. The tape was covering her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, pressed it between her lips and felt the taste of glue.
‘If you want something to drink, then you mustn’t shout,’ Karen said. ‘We’re a long way from other people, so they can’t help you, but I don’t want you waking the child.’
There was a television screen in front of her. No, it wasn’t a television, it was a monitor connected to a computer. A keyboard. A mouse.
Karen turned on the screen.
‘Look, she’s asleep. We must be quiet. Shhh.’
Karen Nylund smiled and pressed her finger against her lips. The screen slowly came on, displaying an image of a sleeping girl. Marion. In a white room somewhere. The angle was bird’s-eye perspective, a web camera mounted in a corner.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Karen smiled.
She sat down by the table, softly caressing the screen. ‘We mustn’t wake the sleeping child.’
Karen took a step forwards and swiftly tore the tape off her face. Mia gasped for breath and coughed. She felt nauseous. The injection to her neck. She thought she was going to throw up.
‘There, have some water,’ Karen said, putting the bottle to her lips.
Mia gulped down as much as she could manage. The rest trickled down her chin and on to her jumper, into her lap and her thighs.
‘Good girl,’ Karen said, wiping her chin and the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.
‘Have you hurt her?’ Mia spluttered.
Her voice sounded strange and rusty.
‘Is that what you think?’ Karen smiled. ‘Of course I haven’t hurt her. I’m going to kill her, that’s true, but how can that hurt her?’
‘You bitch,’ Mia hissed, and spat at her.
Karen jumped aside and just avoided being hit.
‘Tut-tut, Mia! Do you want me to put the tape back, or will we try to behave?’
Mia could feel the rage surge violently inside her, but at the last second she managed to control herself.
‘I’ll be good,’ she said quietly. ‘Sorry.’
‘There, there, that’s better.’ Karen smiled, sitting down again.
‘Why me?’ Mia said.
‘Wow, straight to the point, is that how it’s going to be? Isn’t that a bit dull?’ Karen laughed. ‘Why don’t we play a little game first? I like games. Games are fun, don’t you think? Don’t you like playing games, Mia? Mia Moonbeam, what a lovely name. A little Native American girl who has been captured. How appropriate, wouldn’t you say?’
Mia said nothing. She closed her eyes and let her head slump towards her chest. Karen rose and came over to her.
‘Mia? Mia? Now, don’t you fall asleep, Mia, we’re going to play a game.’
Mia opened her eyes again and spat right into Karen’s face.
The strawberry-blonde woman was unprepared and her personality changed in a fraction of a second. Her smile was gone. Her eyes were flashing.
‘You fucking cunt.’
Karen Nylund raised her hand and slapped Mia across the face. The blow was hard. Mia’s head was flung backwards, she blacked out for a second and her eyes closed.
When she opened them again, the grotesque smile was back in place.
‘Would you like some cake?’ Karen smiled, tilting her head. ‘I baked it especially for you.’
‘Who the hell are you, really?’
‘Now, no swearing,’ Karen said. ‘It’s not necessary. That’s a rule. Agreed? That’s the rule of the game.’
Mia regained her composure and nodded. She glanced around a second time. The police gaze. She was trapped here. She was far away from other people. She was restrained. She would have to talk her way out. It was her only hope. Play along.
‘That’s a good rule,’ Mia said quietly, attempting a smile.
‘Excellent,’ Karen said, clapping her hands. ‘Who will begin? Why don’t I start?’
Mia nodded.
‘I grew up in this house,’ Karen said. ‘There was me, my mother, my sister and he who must not be mentioned.’
‘Your father?’ Mia said.
‘We don’t say his name.’ Karen smiled, sitting down by the table again. ‘Your turn?’
‘I grew up in Åsgårdstrand,’ Mia said. ‘With my sister and my parents. We lived in a white house, not far from Edvard Munch’s house. My grandmother lived close by.’
‘Boring,’ Karen smiled. ‘Party pooper. We already know that. Tell us something new, something we don’t know. Why don’t I say something?’
Mia nodded again.
‘My mother worked at Hamar Hospital. I came with her to work. She showed me everything. She had the softest hair in the world. I got to brush it. My sister was far too young, she only got to watch. One day she didn’t come home from work. Everyone knew what had happened, but the police did nothing. Isn’t that strange? That we live in a country where the police don’t care?’
Karen smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. She glanced up at the ceiling; it looked as if she was contemplating something.
Hamar Hospital. Mia guessed they must be near Hamar. Karen Nylund’s father had murdered her mother. The police had done nothing. That explained her hatred of the police.
‘Am I allowed to ask questions?’ Mia said.
‘Everything is allowed,’ Karen laughed. ‘Everything is allowed in this game!’
‘Except swearing,’ Mia said, forcing out another smile; she hoped it looked genuine.
‘That’s right.’ Karen giggled. ‘We don’t like that.’
‘What did you call her?’ Mia said.
‘Who?’
‘The baby from the maternity ward.’
Karen had stopped smiling.
‘Margrete,’ she said.
‘Beautiful name,’ Mia said.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, very beautiful. Was that her room?’
She nodded in the direction of the monitor.
‘Yes,’ Karen said forlornly. ‘Or no, it wasn’t as nice as that. That was where it was, but I had a new one built. The old one became so sad.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Oh no, my turn, my turn.’
Mia took her eyes off the screen. She couldn’t bear to watch it. Marion was lying on the bed, wearing a white doll’s dress with lace.
‘He bled to death inside.’ Karen smiled.
‘Who?’
‘The one we never mention. I put rat poison in his food. After the police said that my mum had run away I had to cook for all three of us. It was fun watching him die. We watched him, my sister and I. He bled from his mouth, from everywhere. It was really good to watch. A red-letter day, you could say. Almost like Christmas.’
‘Where did you bury him?’ Mia said, trying her hardest not to look at the screen.
Focus, now, Mia, focus.
‘Right behind the outdoors lavatory.’ Karen smiled again. ‘Stinky, stinky, filthy, filthy, filthy. Very apt. Are you sure you don’t want some cake?’
‘Maybe later.’ Mia smiled.
‘It’s very good.’ Karen nodded and disappeared inside her own head for a moment.
‘Malin Stoltz.’
‘Oh, you mean Maiken?’
‘Two different-coloured eyes? Malin?’
‘Maiken.’ Karen nodded. ‘Poor Maiken. She’s as mad as a hatter, did you know? But together we made loads of money.’
Slowly, it began to dawn on Mia how everything was connected.
‘Through the church?’
Karen Nylund smiled and clapped her hands again.
‘Well done, Mia. Clever girl. You’ve no idea how easy it is to make old ladies give all their money to Jesus when they think they’re about to die.’
She laughed briefly.
‘The church got sixty per cent, we got forty. A fair deal, in my opinion. That’s a lot of money, Mia. Do you know how much money that is?’
‘No,’ Mia said.
‘It’s a lot.’ Karen winked at her. ‘Let’s put it this way, this is not my real home.’
‘But she didn’t know anything about Margrete or the other girls?’
‘Oh no.’ Karen laughed. ‘Maiken is proper crazy, no doubt about it, but much too soft for anything like that. That stupid friend of hers, Roger Bakken, at least I could use him for something. He could never make up his mind whether he was a man or a woman – a bit bizarre, really, people like that are always weak, easy to manipulate.’
‘Wow, that’s quite a scam,’ Mia said. ‘Working with the church. Clever, really – everyone’s a winner.’
‘Yes, they are, aren’t they?’ Karen said proudly.
‘So what happened to her?’ Mia continued.
‘Who?’
‘Margrete. The baby?’
Karen fell silent for a moment before she replied.
‘I was hit by a car. I broke my foot and both arms,’ she said, pressing her lips together. ‘I was admitted to hospital.’
‘For a long time?’
Karen nodded silently.
‘I can’t blame them either,’ she said, putting on her smile again. ‘The old people, I mean. Giving away their money. They lie there all alone. Their body is packing up. They look back on their lives and they have regrets. Oh, they have so many regrets, Mia. I have seen them. Heard them talk. About all the things they wish they had done differently. Worried less about other people. Put themselves first. Travelled more, had more fun, explored the world. They’re all terrified. They have fear in their eyes – it’s extreme, Mia, you should have seen some of them. They realize that they have made mistakes. They panic. They hope for another go. They want to buy their way to a second chance. I can’t blame them, really. How does it feel to be about to die, Mia?’
‘Are you going to kill me?’ Mia said.
Karen looked at her strangely.
‘Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?’
‘Why me?’
‘Have you really not worked that out? And here was I thinking you were so clever.’
‘No, I haven’t worked it out,’ Mia said quietly.
‘No, you haven’t, because I’m smarter than you.’
Karen smiled triumphantly and clapped her hands again in a childish fashion.
‘I killed a dog, did you know? So that the girls would have someone to play with. Wasn’t that nice?’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Mia mumbled.
‘That’s because you’re stupid.’ Karen Nylund smiled.
‘Yes, you’re smarter than me.’
‘That’s right, I am.’
‘So why are you going to kill me?’
‘Do you not know? Do you really not know?’ The woman with the strawberry-blonde hair smiled.
‘No.’
‘Do you want me to tell you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because you killed my sister,’ Karen said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Chapter 80
The first time Liv-Hege Nylund sniffed glue was in a back alley in Hamar when she was thirteen years old. She had dropped out of school ages ago: she hadn’t liked it there, studying wasn’t for her she hadn’t liked the people either; and, anyway, no one cared about where she was. Her sister, Karen, used to care; she was ten years older than Liv-Hege and had always looked after her while they were growing up in Tangen, in a small house far away from other people. Their father had been a bully. Physical and psychological abuse had characterized life for the two sisters and their mother, who had finally vanished from the surface of the earth. Young Liv-Hege had witnessed things her mind and her body could not process. The cloth with the glue had offered her a much-needed break from reality. While Karen had been around, life had been easier. Going to school. Looking after herself. Believing she was going to be all right. But once their parents were gone, Karen had grown so strange, and her personality changed. She lost her temper at the slightest provocation. Without warning, she would laugh out loud at things that weren’t funny. Liv-Hege remembered a bird that had crashed into the living-room window. She had picked up the bird, brought it inside and tried to keep it alive in a small cardboard box lined with cotton wool. One day after the school bus had dropped her off she had come back to discover Karen in the kitchen; she had a saucepan of water on the stove and was watching the screaming little bird being boiled alive. She had turned to Liv-Hege with huge grin on her face. As if she enjoyed watching the bird die. Their mother had worked at Hamar Hospital and Karen had been allowed to come with her to work. What their mother hadn’t known, was that Karen had stolen medication. She had shown Liv-Hege a box in the attic once when they were home alone: syringes and vials and jars of pills with all sorts of strange names. Liv-Hege didn’t know what her sister intended to use it all for, but it was most likely to kill someone. Karen enjoyed killing.
Liv-Hege, however, wanted only to forget. The glue-soaked cloth was merely the start of the journey, which had only one destination. To begin with, Liv-Hege had hitchhiked from Tangen into Hamar, but that soon stopped and she no longer went home. She and her mates would sniff glue at Domkirkeodden and sleep rough under the bushes. They took poppers and heart medication and slept on benches and in stairwells. They stole food and spent most of their time trying to get high. The more often Liv-Hege got high, the harder it was to stay clean. During the first few years she had been clean for days at a time, sometimes even weeks, but now being high was a constant. A destructive, downward spiral she could not escape. Liv-Hege was traumatized by her childhood experiences, suffered from chronic anxiety and had no hope of ever seeing reality as other people did. No expectations of a good life. A safe life. A house. A job. A family. Children. Holidays. Not a chance. Soon, Liv-Hege had only one goal. The next fix. And the fix after that, and then the next one. She had boyfriends, but they weren’t important. A guy who offered her a bed and some weed. Another one who let her shower and gave her alcohol.
But then she met Markus Skog. Liv-Hege had fallen asleep in someone’s car and woken up in Oslo. Her mate was picking up a packet of something. Speed. Whatever. And there he was, in a flat in Grønland. Liv-Hege had fallen head over heels in love, and they became an item. Markus Skog had introduced her to heroin, so now she had two loves. Heroin was the perfect drug for her. Much better than glue, with all its waste products and impurities. Glue made her zone out, true, but also sick and nauseous most of the time. Heroin was completely different. Markus Skog had injected her for the first time on a summer’s day down by the River Aker, and Liv-Hege had barely believed such bliss was possible. It was as if her body had been in tension her whole life and, finally, it could relax. All the sharp barbs and her piercing misery turned into a huge smile. One big, beaming, lovely smile with pink clouds of eternal beauty. People were good. The world was fantastic. For ever. Since that day, they had never been apart. A perfect, heavenly triangle. Markus, her and heroin. They had moved about, living here, there and everywhere. Markus knew a lot of people. And when Markus started dealing, they got to know even more. Dealers were the celebrities of the underworld, always surrounded by an entourage of famous and obscure faces, and even though he had only been a street dealer, they had done well. One autumn they had lived in a campervan up at Tryvann. The pa
rty atmosphere had been pretty good – a lot of cocaine and speed, but not enough heroin; Liv-Hege had missed it. It would be good to get some. Getting properly high again. Fortunately, the party crew withdrew to the city centre over time. And then there were just the three of them left in the campervan. Markus, her and the lovely liquid gold which would soon be going into her veins.
‘Please can you hook me up?’
Liv-Hege looked beseechingly at Markus Skog, who was pacing up and down inside the campervan.
He had just snorted two lines of speed and cocaine mixed together and was quite manic. He was talking to himself constantly, and his eyes were the size of saucers.
‘Markus?’ she pleaded with him again. ‘Hook me up, will you?’
Liv-Hege pulled up the sleeve of her jumper and rested her arm on the small grey plastic table.
‘Dammit, Liv-Hege, do it yourself. Why do I have to do everything for you?’ Markus Skog grunted as he cut more lines on the table.
‘But I like it when you do it,’ Live-Hege said. ‘Please?’
‘You’re real nag, did you know that? I don’t know why I put up with your bony arse. Tell me, Liv-Hege, why do I? It’s not as if you contribute anything, is it?’
Liv-Hege stared shamefully at the floor and tightened the rubber tube around her arm herself. Markus bent down and snorted both lines, one in each nostril.
‘Ah, here we go, that’s it. That’s right, now we’re going places.’
He laughed out loud to himself and slammed his fist into the wall. Liv-Hege jolted, almost missing the vein with the needle, but she got it in at last. The warmth started flooding through her body. Finally. Pink clouds. Endless beaches.
She had just dropped the needle on to the floor when there was a knock on the door of the campervan.
‘Hello?’
A woman’s voice.
‘What the hell?’ Markus said.
He tried looking through the curtain, but had forgotten that they had cardboard for windows and that he couldn’t see out of the filthy campervan.
‘Police.’
A male voice this time.
‘Shit,’ Markus said, starting to clear the table of drugs. ‘Liv-Hege? Help me, will you?!’
