Katrín didn’t reply immediately, and instead scrambled to her feet. The pain plaguing her foot didn’t touch her; it simply didn’t matter. After standing up she threw the camera at Líf, who caught it in surprise. Katrín suppressed her longing to spit, and made do with hissing: ‘You know what?’ Her voice was as cold as the ice that now enclosed her heart. ‘I really hope he is.’
Chapter 30
Freyr felt as if he’d just shut his eyes when the alarm clock demanded that he open them again. Yet he’d managed to nap for four hours, which wasn’t too bad. The sleeplessness he’d feared hadn’t manifested itself, nor had nightmares stopped his sleep being restful. He’d gone to bed much later than planned and had been absolutely exhausted when he finally laid his head on the pillow. He’d intended to turn in early but the e-mails from Sara – with the files that he’d asked her to send – had started coming in just as he was about to turn off the computer. Maybe she’d hoped to interfere with his sleep that night, and he wouldn’t blame her. She was furious with him and would no doubt stay that way for some time, possibly indefinitely. He would have to live with that, and maybe that was a cleaner separation than a friendship built on sand, or lies. Every e-mail ended with the same line: Fuck you, you fucking bastard, you monster. Fair enough, he thought.
As it so often did, sleep had helped to order Freyr’s thoughts. Once he’d gone through most of what Sara had sent and set it alongside what he had already gleaned, everything felt like it had merged into a mess of confusion. It was impossible for him to draw any conclusions or even discern a coherent thread in the swarm of reports he’d gone through, nor could he find anything useful by fast-forwarding through the CCTV recordings from the petrol station forecourt. This hadn’t particularly surprised him – why should he, all these years later, spot something the investigative team had overlooked? He’d been a fool to think he might. Nonetheless, he’d viewed all the clips diligently, though at high speed; it was like watching a cartoon in which people didn’t walk, but waddled like penguins in a hurry, and cars seemed to appear and disappear at random. But Freyr had no choice; he couldn’t watch four hours of recordings of a garage forecourt at normal speed.
The reports, however, he read word by word. Of the dozens he went through, Freyr set only one aside for further perusal; the others told him nothing new. The one that captured his attention had sparked something indefinable in his mind. It was the testimony of one of the boys who had taken part in the game of hide-and-seek, a boy who Freyr had noticed never looked him in the eye the few times that their paths had crossed after Benni’s disappearance, the one who’d mentioned the submarine. At that point he’d been too burdened by grief to wonder why the child was behaving that way, but now time and distance granted him sharper vision. Freyr didn’t know whether he’d worked through his reading while half awake or asleep, but by the time he’d woken up he’d realized that certain details in the boy’s statement didn’t fit; they weren’t glaring errors, and only the few people closest to the situation could have spotted them, so it was understandable that the police had overlooked the inconsistencies. If that was indeed what had happened; it was perfectly possible that they hadn’t had all the reports to hand, and that further conversations with the boy had shed better light on the case. Either way, Freyr was going to sort this out before the end of the day. How, he didn’t know, but he had enough time to find out.
He’d also realized some other things during the night, concerning his accident at Ártúnsbrekka the day that Benni had vanished. In the recording, only the car he’d hit was visible, not his own, and not the trailer that the man had removed and positioned in a third parking space. They’d parked on the edge of the forecourt, in the only place where there had been spaces. The other driver could be seen stepping out of his car and walking out of the frame, and Freyr knew they’d been talking during the time that he was gone. Then he returned, took his insurance papers from his glove compartment and disappeared again while they filled them out. Just over a quarter of an hour passed before he appeared again, stuck the papers back in the glove compartment and then walked into the petrol station, where he stayed for half an hour, probably having something to eat. Freyr had known all of this beforehand, yet he’d woken wondering what had happened to the insurance papers. The claim had never been followed through; he’d neither lost his no claims bonus nor received any notice that he’d been in the right. His car hadn’t really needed repairing; after Benni disappeared, a dented bumper hadn’t been high on his and Sara’s list of priorities. Nothing but Benni had mattered and the accident had been forgotten, like so much else at the time. But now this struck him, without his understanding why; maybe it irritated him that there was a loose end that had been overlooked.
It was still dark outside. Freyr emptied his cup only to refill it with more flavourless instant coffee. Double the amount this time, to help him wake up properly. He was off today but had still set his alarm clock as if he needed to go to work. Of course, he realized now, he could have slept a little longer; he couldn’t get hold of anyone so early in the morning, which meant there was nothing to do other than pace and drink coffee. And yet. He could call Sara, who never slept in, and try to apologize. She deserved both the apology and the chance to yell and hurl obscenities at him.
‘Don’t hang up,’ Freyr said hurriedly, in case she’d only answered so she could tell him to piss off. ‘I’ve got some stuff to tell you. Then you can shout at me as much you want.’
‘You’re not worth it.’ Her voice was so cold, there could be no doubting her conviction. ‘Just fucking say it and then leave me alone.’ Sara paused for a moment before adding: ‘For the rest of our lives.’
‘Sara, I was an idiot. I’m not going to try to make excuses for what I did; it was despicable of me; I couldn’t withstand temptation, but I should have. I failed you, my job, and maybe Benni too, but the worst thing is that I let you down in such a horrible way.’
‘So you never went to the hospital, and that’s why there was so little insulin in the box? Was it just some old left-over stuff you had lying around? Did you falsify the data in the hospital pharmacy, you bastard?’ Sara spoke so quickly that it reminded Freyr of the fast-forwarded recordings he’d watched the night before.
‘I went to the hospital, Sara, and got the insulin. That’s the truth. But I didn’t stay there to work like I told you; instead, I was with this woman. That’s why I was late. She’d called, and since I was going to get the insulin I had an excuse to see her.’
‘Where did you meet up with her?’ There was pain in her voice, which he found harder to bear than anger. He might gain some absolution for his sins if she just bawled him out, but seeing the raw wounds in her heart was a different matter.
Freyr cleared his throat and hoped that she wouldn’t now ask where precisely they’d had sex. But if she did, he would lie to her, for the very last time. He didn’t think the awful cliché of adulterous sex on his desk would make things any easier. ‘At my office. She suggested it.’
‘Classy.’ There was a brief, bitter silence. ‘Where did you meet this whore of yours? Didn’t she know you were married?’
‘Yes. She knew. She was married, too.’ Now it was Freyr’s turn to hesitate. If he told her the whole story, he would be placing his job in her hands, to some extent. He let it out. ‘She was one of my patients. She wanted help with marital problems, and with life in general. Her husband had had an affair with another woman, and she felt as if everything was falling apart around her.’
‘So she thought it was a good idea to mimic his behaviour.’
‘She has a mild personality disorder, Sara, which is why her treatment lasted longer than the several meetings that it took for her to reconcile herself with her marital issues. Heightened sexual aggression is a common complication in her disorder. She instigated it, though I’m well aware that’s no excuse. When I discovered that she was attracted to me, I should have immediately referred her elsewhere, rather than start
ed an affair with her. But that’s not what I did, and now I’ve got to live with it. I haven’t seen her since that day at my office, nor have I spoken to her. She never made another appointment, so I didn’t have the chance to break it off, as I’d resolved to do, I swear.’ He declined to mention that the woman had been exceptionally beautiful, with a fantastic figure; it would have been nearly impossible for any red-blooded man to resist her advances. Sara didn’t need to hear that.
‘That’s the most pathetic apology I’ve ever heard.’ Sara was angry again, which made Freyr feel almost relieved. She hadn’t said a word about reporting his transgression, though she might well do so later. ‘Utterly pathetic. You’re a fucking loser. I mean it, never call me again.’ She took a breath. ‘There’s just one thing I want to know so I don’t accidentally end up speaking to this mad tart of yours.’ Again she breathed in sharply, as if gathering the courage to ask the question. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Líf.’ Freyr cleared his throat again. ‘Her name is Líf.’
The insurance company had no record of a damage report for Freyr’s car on the date in question. The service representative obviously couldn’t explain why the other party hadn’t sent in the information and suggested that Freyr speak to the man’s insurance company, but Freyr couldn’t remember which one it was. He had no idea what had become of his copy of the report, which he remembered shoving into the glove compartment of his car before driving home from the petrol station. Sara had got the car when they divorced and since they last spoke, true to her word, she was refusing to answer his phone calls. This particular trail would lead nowhere unless something changed.
Freyr’s conversation with Sara had brought up memories of his meeting with Líf that fateful afternoon; memories that he’d long since pushed aside. At first Benni’s disappearance had crowded everything else out and as time passed he’d tried to forget about the affair, which was made simpler by the fact that he hadn’t heard a peep out of Líf. But now he remembered everything. When she came to the office, she’d been quite interested in the insulin in the little paper bag. Freyr had taken it out and shown it to her, explained what it was without mentioning Benni, as he preferred not to discuss his son with a woman with whom he was having an affair. Her first question had been whether it was possible to get high from it, in case they could spice up the sex. When he’d told her that no, the drug was dangerous to anyone other than diabetics, she’d asked all sorts of questions that he’d thought arose from stress, assuming she’d simply welcomed the chance to have something to talk about. Would you die from it? Could it cause a heart attack? What about an irregular heartbeat? And could that kill someone with a bad heart? God, I’m glad I didn’t try it for fun. He recalled how later that same day, when the police had wanted to see confirmation that he’d gone to get the insulin, it had come to light that there was only one pen left in the box.
Now that he could face up to his own failings and his thoughts about all this were unencumbered by the fear of Sara finding out about his affair, it occurred to him that Líf might have seen what had become of the drug. Maybe she’d noticed at the time that the pens had fallen out of the package as she handled the box, or had taken them out to have a look while his back was turned and then put them down somewhere, after which the cleaning staff would have removed them or thrown them away. It was a long shot, but not inconceivable. Yet another irritating loose end. He decided to call Líf and simply ask her about it, to go straight to the point even if it was uncomfortable. But she didn’t answer her home phone, which was listed in her name only; her husband was apparently out of the picture, no great surprise, and her mobile was either out of range or turned off. He’d hit another wall.
It might help if he called the boy he suspected of having lied; he would still be at school, but ought to be home shortly. The hypothesis he had in mind was a little crazy, but he knew he had to speak to the boy without him being able to hide behind his parents. Of course it was just as likely that the kid would hang up on him, but that was a chance he would have to take. As he waited for the right time to call, he read the report on his statement and compared it to the statements of the other children. He made notes on the printouts so he’d have what he needed to hand when he reached the boy, particularly on the details he felt didn’t make sense.
With the papers in his lap and his phone in his hand he sat on the couch and tried to think of something useful to do while waiting. But he couldn’t think of anything, and despite all the caffeine he’d consumed he dozed off, starting several times when his chin dropped to his chest, though he always managed to make himself comfortable again and fall back to sleep. It wasn’t until his phone rang that he woke, annoyed with himself at having wasted his time. It was Dagný. ‘I’ve come across some information that will probably surprise you.’
‘Oh?’ Freyr couldn’t force himself to sound interested or alert, and she didn’t bother asking whether she’d woken him.
‘Úrsúla, that patient of yours who started talking about Benni, was in the same class as Bernódus, Halla and all the others. She wasn’t in the class photo; maybe she was off sick the day it was taken.’ Freyr sat up, his sluggishness vanished like dew in sunlight.
‘How did you find that out?’ Of course, of course. She was born in the same year, 1940, so it made sense that she’d gone to the same school, being a resident of Ísafjörður.
‘I finally got my hands on some old records from the school, which I searched for when the similarities between the break-ins at the primary school and the preschool became clear. There’s more: it seems that she and Bernódus were good friends. I found a report by the teacher in which she describes her surprise that Úrsúla had finally formed a close friendship; it appears that she was something of a social outcast. She’d probably been bullied by her classmates, but that’s not mentioned explicitly, since no one gave much thought to such things back then. The teacher’s statement is a bit brusque – harsh, even; she definitely sides with the class as a whole at the expense of the other two, who were obviously weaker personalities. It makes for very peculiar reading, and I didn’t feel particularly sorry about what happened to the teacher after I’d gone over it. But in any case, the connection between the two kids is clear.’
‘Is there any way I can have a look at it?’ Freyr rubbed his sore neck as he tried to imagine this. Úrsúla, the girl everyone loved to hate, forging a relationship with the new member of the class, who is also a weirdo, an outcast. ‘Do you know what usually happens in this kind of situation, when two children excluded by the remainder of the group join together?’
‘No, what?’
‘The group senses that there’s strength in not being completely isolated, and an unconscious decision is made to sever the bond between the two excluded individuals. It’s probably one of the most vicious forms of bullying, and those who experience it seldom or never repair their friendship afterwards.’
‘Are you suggesting that the kids killed Bernódus so that they could keep bullying Úrsúla?’
‘No, not necessarily. It’s just a very interesting angle. Finally something that connects all of this, and that might help me crack Úrsúla’s shell once she’s feeling more like talking.’
‘Should I drop by?’ Dagný asked, then sounded embarrassed, as if she feared he would read too much into her words. ‘I’m actually finished for the day; I worked a double shift yesterday and I’d rather not be here any longer than I have to, so it would make more sense for me to come over than for you to put yourself out by coming to the station.’
‘Sure, see you soon.’ Freyr hung up immediately, aware that he mustn’t waste any time if he were going to call the boy before Dagný arrived. He doubted she would approve of his methods. He dialled the number, his foot jiggling nervily as the line rang and rang. When he was almost convinced that he’d have to try again tomorrow, the phone was answered and a child’s voice greeted him. ‘Hello, is Heimir there?’ Freyr felt as if he were making a prank call.<
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‘Uh, yeah.’ The voice sounded surprised. ‘That’s me.’
‘Hello, Heimir. My name is Freyr, you might not remember me. I’m . . . I was . . . Benni’s dad. Do you remember Benni?’
‘Yeah.’ The boy was on his guard. ‘Why are you calling me?’
‘The police gave me some old reports to go over and I saw a little something in them that I wanted to ask you about. It’s nothing terrible and it should be easy for you to answer my questions. I don’t even have to come to your house, it’s such a small thing.’ Freyr was barely breathing. ‘Is that all right with you?’
‘Um, yeah. I don’t know.’
Freyr rushed on. ‘In the report it says that you hid behind the garage in the garden next to mine, so you didn’t see where Benni or some of the other kids went. Then you realized you were late for your cousin’s birthday party and left before you were found. Is that right?’
‘Yeah, I think so. I don’t remember really. It was a really long time ago.’
‘I know, but we should just assume that the police wrote down correctly what you said. But now two other kids say they also hid in the same garden; one says that he hid behind what he thought was a shed, and the other behind the bushes. They could see each other, but neither of them remembers seeing you. The thing is, that garden only has a garage, no shed. So either you were in the same hiding place as another boy, or somebody’s lying, or somebody remembered incorrectly. Which is it?’
‘Um . . . maybe I hid somewhere else. I’m not sure.’
‘Heimir.’ Freyr tried not to let anger get the better of him. ‘It’s all the same to me where you hid. I just want to know whether you have any idea of what happened to Benni. And I’m not concerned about why you didn’t tell us before; you were so little, and everyone can make mistakes. I won’t mention this conversation to anyone else and you’ll feel so, so much better if you tell the truth, exactly as it happened.’ Freyr drew a deep breath and calmed himself. There was little more he could say now; at least nothing that he could live with saying to a child. ‘Benni needs to be found, Heimir. He wants to be found, and I’m sure you want to ease your mind. At first you said that Benni wanted to hide in a submarine, didn’t you?’
I Remember You Page 31
