The Exception
Page 53
Iben listens to Gunnar and his children having fun in the kitchen. She feels much better now and returns to the previous subject.
‘… But on the other hand, working at DCGI might have the opposite effect. That is, not to blunt our perceptions, but to make us more appreciative of the lives we’re privileged enough to live.’
Dorte keeps staring at the screen.
‘We have been allowed to believe that an orderly, day-to-day existence and our care and respect for each other are givens. Our work shows us that they are not. It also opens our eyes to the importance of goodness. Precisely because it can vanish so quickly.’
At last Dorte looks up from the screen and states the obvious. ‘Not a trace of anything.’
Just as Iben tells herself that the worst is over, Dorte has another thought.
‘By the way, do you know of anyone who might have a key to Malene’s flat? Or someone who might know the password to her computer?’
Iben must think quickly now. It’s a test. She lifts the lump of orange mineral on the coffee table. ‘Not as far as I know. Malene never told me her password. I didn’t have a key, and I’m pretty sure nobody else did.’
‘The thing is that whoever wrote the confession must have been someone who had a key. Key or no key, you’ve got to be very cool about breaking and entering a flat under regular police surveillance, especially if the next thing you do is settle down to a bit of computer work.’
They talk for a little longer, but Dorte begins to look tired. She gets up to leave and puts her CD away.
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Hopefully it wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?’
‘No, not at all. I mean, you obviously must investigate every possible lead. We owe that to Malene and Rasmus. Please feel free to call any time.’
Iben escorts Dorte to the door and then goes to the kitchen where Gunnar is pottering about making lots of delicious dishes for a buffet-style supper. The girls are preparing a big bowl of salad.
Gunnar asks how it went. Iben mutters non-committally.
She goes to stand behind her man, who is frying little slices of pork fillet in butter. She puts her arms round him and leans her head against his back, sensing the warmth of his chest against her cheek.
The two girls smile at her. Iben’s ear is pressed in between Gunnar’s shoulder blades and she can hear the beating of his heart.
This is exactly how I wanted it to be, she thinks. Like this.