I'm Travelling Alone

Chapter 64

Emilie Isaksen was driving along Ringvollveien. She was new to this area, she had lived in Hønefoss less than twelve months, and it suddenly struck her that it might have been quicker to take Hadelandsveien and then go up the old Ringvollvei to reach her destination. Emilie Isaksen taught Norwegian and several of her pupils lived around here, a few kilometres outside the town centre. She shifted down to second gear and turned off on to Gjermundboveien.

Emilie Isaksen had known that she wanted to be a teacher from the moment she started sixth-form college. She had found work straight after completing her teacher training, and she had enjoyed her job from day one. Several of the teachers at the school had given her advice when she had first started, and they had meant well. How important it was to look after yourself, not take your work home with you, don’t get too close to the pupils, but that was not the way Emilie did things. And that explained why she was in her car now.

Tobias Iversen.

She had noticed him from the first lesson, a good-looking, gangly boy with alert eyes. But something was wrong. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was well liked, so popularity was not the issue. She had not grasped the problem initially, but it had come to her in time. His mother never came to Parents’ Evenings. Neither did his stepfather. They did not reply to letters. They did not answer their phone. She was, quite simply, unable to contact them. And then she had started noticing the bruises. To his face. His hands. She didn’t teach PE, so she had not seen his body, but she suspected that he was bruised all over. She had had a quick word with his PE teacher, but he was the old-fashioned type. Kids fall down and they get hurt. Especially unruly boys in Year Seven – what was she implying? She had tried questioning Tobias tactfully. Was he all right? How were things at home? Tobias had refused to open up, but she had seen it in his eyes. Something wasn’t right. There might be teachers who were prepared to overlook something like this, who didn’t want to get involved, the sanctity of the home, and all that, but Emilie Isaksen was not one of them.

Tobias hadn’t been at school for a week. She had tried calling his home, but there had been no reply. She had asked around, discreetly, and discovered that his younger brother hadn’t been to school either. She had spoken to the school counsellor, without mentioning any names, but asking for guidance. What was the policy? What action should she take? She had been given rather vague messages; no one had wanted to tell her exactly what to do unless she had proof. You had to tread carefully. Emilie Isaksen had heard it all before, but she refused to let herself be put off. What harm could a visit do? She just wanted to drop off some homework. Have a quick chat with his mother. Perhaps arrange a meeting with his parents? There was no reason why that meeting couldn’t take place in Tobias’s home if his mother found it difficult to leave the house. Unorthodox, perhaps, but she had made up her mind that it was worth the risk. She was going to be polite. She wasn’t going to accuse anyone of anything. She was only trying to help. It would be fine. Perhaps they had gone away on holiday without asking the school if they could take the boys out. Perhaps both boys were ill; there had been a spring bug going round the school, both among pupils and teachers. There could be so many reasons.

She drove up the old Ringvollvei until she found the address. ‘Address’ might be an exaggeration: it was a lane which led deeper into the forest. A postbox at the bottom of the road said ‘Iversen & Frank’. She decided to leave her car there and walk the last stretch up to the house. The house was red and small, and surrounded by other, smaller buildings. A long time ago it might have been a nice little cottage; now, it was more of a junkyard. There were several rusting cars sitting about and piles of what she would call rubbish in various places. She walked up to the front door and knocked. There was no reply. She knocked again and heard a noise from the other side. The door opened and a small, filthy face appeared.

‘Hello?’ the little boy said.

‘Hi,’ Emilie said, bending down so as not to tower over him. ‘Are you Torben?’

The little boy nodded. He had jam smeared around his mouth and his hands were grubby.

‘My name is Emilie. I’m Tobias’s teacher – perhaps you’ve heard about me?’

The boy nodded again.

‘He likes you,’ Torben said, scratching his head.

‘That’s nice. I’m looking for Tobias. Is he at home?’

‘No,’ the little boy said.

‘Is your mother or your stepfather at home?’

‘No,’ the little boy said again.

She could hear that he was almost on the verge of tears.

‘So are you at home alone?’

The boy nodded.

‘There’s no more food,’ he said sadly.

‘How long have you been at home alone?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘How many nights has it been? How many times did it get dark?’

The little boy thought about it.

‘Six or seven,’ he said.

Emilie Isaksen could feel herself getting angry, but she decided not to show it.

‘Have you any idea where Tobias might be?’

The little boy nodded.

‘He’s with the Christian girls.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Up in the woods, by Litjønna. That’s where we hunt bison. I’m really good at it.’

‘I’m sure you are. I bet that’s fun. How do you that’s where he is?’

‘He wrote me a note and left it in our secret hiding place.’

‘You have a secret hiding place?’

The boy smiled faintly.

‘Yes, we’re the only ones who know about it.’

‘How exciting. Please can I see the note?’

‘Yes. Would you like to come in?’

Emilie considered her options. Technically, she wasn’t allowed. She couldn’t enter someone’s home without permission. She glanced around. There was no sign of the adults anywhere. The little boy had been at home alone for almost one week and there was no food in the house. Surely that was reasonable cause.

‘Yes, please.’ Emilie Isaksen smiled and followed the little boy into the house.

Chapter 65

Holger Munch was standing outside his mother’s room at Høvikveien Care Home, struggling to get his thoughts in order. Too much had happened recently, far too much. The threat against Marion. His daughter and granddaughter being forced to hide out in a safe flat. They had found Malin Stoltz. They had lost Malin Stoltz. Mikkelson had called him countless times, and Munch had yet to call him back. He sat down on a chair and stretched his legs. He caught a whiff of something unpleasant and realized to his horror that the smell was coming from him. He had dozed a couple of hours in his office chair and hadn’t had time to change his clothing. He rubbed his face and fought to keep his eyes open. Thank God he could afford for his mother to live in a place like this. They had a doctor on call, so his mother hadn’t even had to leave her room. She was fine. Fortunately, it had turned out not to be as serious as it first seemed.

Fortunately.

Holger Munch found his mobile and called Miriam, but for some reason there was no reply. He shook his head and tried again, only to get the same result. Typical. Stubborn girl. He had promised her to bring them more food, fresh clothes, more toys for Marion, and now he was stuck here. He sent her a text message asking her to call him and put his phone back in the pocket of his duffel coat. The corridor was warm. He found their air stuffy. He ought to take off his jacket, but he really didn’t smell very good. He got up and went to one of the lavatories. Stuck his mouth under the tap and drank some water. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. He looked dreadful. Malin Stoltz’s flat had been filled with mirrors from floor to ceiling. He had never seen anything like it. Who lived like that? He had struggled to stay in it for five minutes. Malin. Miriam. Marion. Mikkelson. Munch. So many Ms. He tried for a moment to be Mia. Nothing but Ms. Was it significant? He returned to the corridor and sat down again. Nothing but Ms? Nonsense. Perhaps Mikkelson was right after all? Perhaps he should step aside? Let someone else take over. His head was no longer working as it should. He hated to admit it, but she really had them over a barrel. Malin Stoltz. If that was her real name. She had hit them at their most vulnerable point – their private life – rattled them. Rattled him. He was no longer thinking clearly. He couldn’t tell the difference between emotion and reason. He was tempted to go outside for a cigarette but opted for a Fisherman’s Friend instead. Four girls dead and his family in hiding. At least they had a suspect now. And no more girls had disappeared, that was something. It’ll be over soon, he thought, leaning back in the chair. We’ll find her and then it will be over. He wasn’t aware of it, but his eyelids were closing. He realized it only when the door opened and the on-call doctor appeared together with Karen, who had alerted him.

Munch quickly got up.

‘How is she?’

‘She’s fine,’ the doctor said. ‘And I mean that: I found no signs of anything wrong, she must just have been a little tired. Perhaps she got up too quickly from her bed – it could be so many things – but there’s really nothing to worry about. She’s quite all right.’

Munch breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Can I see her?’

‘I’ve given her something to make her sleep, so it’s best that she rests. Perhaps this afternoon.’

‘Thank you.’ Munch nodded, shaking the doctor’s hand.

‘And who else?’ the doctor said, now addressing Karen.

‘Torkel Binde,’ Karen said. ‘He has been complaining about his medication. His room is at the far end of this corridor. Let me show you the way.’

Karen smiled tenderly at Munch and followed the doctor down the corridor. Munch got up and went outside. He lit a cigarette and called Gabriel Mørk.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Holger.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at the care home, had to deal with a private matter. Where are we?’

‘I’ve found the movie on the laptop that Sarah Kiese brought in. It’s a little damaged, especially the sound, but I have a mate who can fix it. Is it all right if I contact him?’

‘Go ahead,’ Munch said.

‘I’ll call him at once,’ Gabriel said.

Munch ended the call and rang Mia. She didn’t answer her phone. He called her again, but there was still no reply. What is it with these stubborn girls? he thought, and sent her a text message as well.

Call me!

He then rang Ludvig, who did reply.

‘Yes?’

‘Munch here. Can you do me a favour?’

‘Sure.’

‘Please send someone to the flat in Frogner with some things for Miriam and Marion.’

‘Will do. What do they need?’

‘I’ll text you a list – and pick someone you trust, won’t you?’

‘Will do,’ Ludvig replied.

‘Yes, and would you…’

‘Yes?’

For a moment Munch forgot what he was going to say. He rubbed his eyes. He had to get some rest now; this was irresponsible.

‘What do we have on Malin Stoltz?’

‘Still missing, nothing to report. Nothing from Gardermoen Airport, ditto Oslo Central Station. Do you want to call it off?’

Munch remembered what Mia had said. That Stoltz wouldn’t try to escape. That she wanted to go home. A flat full of mirrors. He shuddered. He was loath to admit it, but this particular detail gave him the creeps.

‘Yes, we’ll call it off. Please, would you do it?’

‘OK,’ Ludvig said.

‘Did you circulate a description of the two men from the church?’

‘It’s already gone out,’ Ludvig said.

‘Good.’

Munch ended the call, threw aside his cigarette and was about to light a fresh one when Karen appeared on the steps.

‘Are you all right, Holger?’

The strawberry-blonde woman looked at him anxiously.

‘Hi, Karen. Yes, fine.’

‘I don’t think you look too good. I mean, don’t you think you should get some rest?’

She joined him in the car park. She stood very close to him. He could smell her perfume. He got a strange feeling he couldn’t quite identify until he realized what it was. She cared for him. She was looking after him. It had been a long time since someone had done that. Usually it was he, Holger Munch, who took care of everyone else.

‘Are you busy?’ Karen asked.

‘I’m always busy.’ Munch laughed, and coughed slightly.

‘You couldn’t spare just one hour?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on,’ Karen said, grabbing the sleeve of his duffel coat.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Hush,’ Karen said.

She pulled him up the steps, into the care home, down one of the corridors and into an empty room.

‘I haven’t got time for this,’ Munch said, but Karen placed her finger on her lips.

‘Do you see that bed over there?’

She pointed to a freshly made bed below the window. Munch nodded.

‘And that door over there?’

Munch nodded a second time.

‘Then I suggest that you take a shower. Afterwards, you lie down in that bed and get some sleep. I’ll wake you in one hour. No one will disturb you here.’

‘No, I…’

‘To be quite honest, you’re badly in need of both,’ Karen said, wrinkling her nose. ‘You’ll find towels in the bathroom,’ she added. ‘One hour, OK?’

The lovely carer gave him a hug and left the room with a wink.

A one-hour nap. What harm could it do? Good for his brain. Good for his body. Good for everyone.

Munch sent a quick text to Ludvig with instructions about what Miriam and Marion needed in the flat, passed on the shower and collapsed on the bed still fully dressed, and closed his eyes.

Chapter 66

Marion Munch woke up not knowing where she was. She normally woke up at home, but the last few days had been different and, recently, she had woken up in two strange places. A small flat. And then a big flat. Now she was in another new place.

‘Mum?’ she whispered tentatively, but there was no reply.

She sat up in her bed and looked around. The room was very nice. It was clearly a child’s bedroom; the other places had been just for grown-ups, no toys, nothing belonging to a child anywhere.

‘Mum?’ she called out again as she climbed out of bed and started to explore the room.

The walls were white, bright white, so white that she almost had to shield her eyes with her hand, and there were no windows in the room. Marion felt a little sorry for the girl who must live here: no windows – what a silly idea. From her bedroom window in Sagene, she could see all sorts of nice things. Cars and people, and so on. The girl who lived here couldn’t see anything at all. The strange thing was there was no door in this bedroom either.

There was a desk in one corner. With a lamp. And a pad of paper and some pens and crayons. Her mother had promised her a desk like it now that she was starting school, and that was soon, it was in Ö well, it was soon anyway. On one wall there were small posters with letters of the alphabet. One had an A and a picture of an apple. Another had a B and a picture of a banana. She could not remember the next letter… oh yes, C. She remembered it now and she recognized the drink on the picture, the one her mother disapproved of but which her Grandad let her have, Cola. She couldn’t read yet, but she recognized a few words. Cat. Ball. Car. Her mother had taught her a song about it, the ABC song; it was quite good and it taught you the letters. The alphabet. She knew it was called that. Her mother had always stressed the importance of learning to read, and she did want to, but then she wondered what her teacher would say if she started school already knowing how to read, because then the teacher would have nothing to teach her, and perhaps she might be bored? So she might as well wait, mightn’t she? She could swim. Not everybody could. And she could ride her bicycle almost without her stabilizers. She was the only one she knew who could do that. And she couldn’t be expected to learn everything at once, now could she?

It was not until then that Marion discovered that she wasn’t wearing her own clothes. How very strange. Hadn’t she had been wearing her light-blue nightdress earlier? The one with the tear in it which her mother wanted to throw out but Marion refused to let her; she liked putting her finger through the hole, feeling the soft fabric around her finger – it made it easier for her to fall asleep now that she had stopped sucking her thumb. She had done really well, stopping that. It had been very hard to begin with, she had missed the thumb terribly, had lied to her parents a few times and sucked it after all. But then Christian at nursery had told her only babies suck their thumb, and that had made her stop. Because she was no longer a baby. After all, babies couldn’t swim, could they? Indeed, could any of the others swim? Oh no, they couldn’t. But perhaps that wasn’t surprising, because none of them spent as much time in Tøyenbadet Swimming Pool as she and her mother did; she had certainly never seen anyone she knew there. She looked down herself and almost had to laugh. She looked as if she was going to a fancy-dress party. They had had a fancy-dress party at nursery. She had wanted to dress up as Frankie Stein, but her mother hadn’t let her so she had gone as a cowboy instead. Her second choice had been a princess, but it seemed to be important to her mother that girls didn’t just do girl things; she certainly talked to Daddy about it a great deal. About the washing-up and the hoovering and the lid on the toilet seat; it would appear to be very important. So she had gone as a cowboy with a gun and moustache and everything. It had been fine. Not perfect, but fine. Now she was wearing a big, old-fashioned dress, which made it hard to move about as it was rather unwieldy. Then she discovered the dolls on the shelf. There were five dolls sitting up there, dangling their feet. Not new dolls, not cool ones like DracuLaura, but old-fashioned ones with hard, white faces, the kind of dolls her grandmother had up in the attic. One of them was even wearing the same dress as her. A bright-white dress with all sorts of bits – lace, or whatever it was called. Marion climbed up on her bed and took down the doll. It had a sign around its neck. Marion knew what the sign said. It said ‘Marion’. Her name. She recognized her own name. She knew how to read and write it. It was on her peg at nursery where she hung up her coat. She looked up at the other dolls, which were also wearing dresses and had signs around their necks. She couldn’t read any of the names – oh yes, Johanne, she knew that one; a girl at her nursery was called that. Her peg was right next to Marion’s.

‘Mum?’ Marion said, a little louder this time.

There was still no reply. Perhaps she had gone to the loo? Marion realized that she needed the loo herself. Now where was the loo in this place? She walked up to what could be a door, grooves in the wall but without a handle, and ran her tiny fingers along the grooves, but couldn’t open it.

‘Mum?’

She really needed the loo now, she really did. How strange that the girl who lived here had a sign with her name on. Perhaps she was really nice. Perhaps she had known that Marion would be staying here for a while and maybe she had made the sign to say that it was fine for her to borrow her room, that she was welcome, like it said on their neighbours’ doormat, ‘Welcome’. I welcome you, I live here. Go ahead, do some drawing and learn the alphabet if you like.

She was close to bursting now.

‘Mummy?’ she called out at the top of her voice.

Her voice flew around the room and slammed back into her ears.

No, she could hold it no longer.

Suddenly, something happened to the wall. A buzzing noise and some squeaking. Then it fell silent again, only for the sound to resume, coming closer and closer, almost as if someone was banging two saucepan lids together. They had done that at nursery when they had made an orchestra out of the things they already had.

Marion kept staring at the wall where the noise was coming from. Now she could see a handle on the wall. She reached out and grabbed it. It was a hatch which opened. Marion pulled open the hatch and jumped when she saw what was behind it. She got goose pimples all over. Inside the hatch was a small monkey. A wind-up toy that banged two metal discs together to make a noise. There was a note with the monkey. She waited until the monkey had stopped moving before she stuck in her hand and quickly snatched the note.

It had letters on it. Some repeated more than once. E. She knew that one. A. She knew that one as well, they were in Elsa’s name, she worked at nursery. And O. She definitely knew that one. She really needed a wee now. She pressed her legs together and tried to read the note.

Peek-a-boo

She had no idea what it meant.

‘Mum! I need a weeeee!’

She shouted louder, but there was still no reply. She couldn’t hold it any more. She lifted up the cumbersome dress. She was wearing strange underpants, really big ones. She looked around the room. There, under the desk. She pulled down the big pants as quickly as she could and peed into the waste basket.

Chapter 67

Mia Krüger parked the car and walked the last stretch up to the church. Borre Church. The beautiful white brick building glowed in the sunlight and gave her palpitations. Four funerals in the same church. Three gravestones in the same cemetery. She wasn’t sure that she could handle seeing them again. That was the reason she had been procrastinating. And now someone had been there. Desecrated Sigrid’s gravestone. Forced her to return before she was ready. Mia looked out for the verger, who had promised to meet her, but couldno’t see him anywhere, and so she walked, almost reluctantly and with heavy footsteps, towards the graves.

She had stopped on her drive here. Bought flowers. She didn’t feel that she could turn up with nothing. The scent of the flowers made her nauseous. Flowers. A house filled with flowers. Friends and neighbours paying their respects. It was all she had left. Three gravestones and a house filled with flowers. She had sold the houses. Both her parents’ and her grandmother’s. Two nice white houses in the centre of Åsgårdstrand, not far from where Edvard Munch had lived. Her family inheritance. But she couldn’t cope with it. She didn’t want them. All she wanted was to forget. She passed a tap with a green watering can next to it. She felt a little ashamed now. Three stones. Four members of her family. Sigrid, her grandmother and her parents. All of her family was here, and she had not even bothered tending to their graves.

Sigrid Krüger

Sister, friend and daughter

Born 11 November 1979. Died 18 April 2002.

Much loved. Deeply missed.

It was exactly as the verger had said. Someone had sprayed over Sigrid’s name. Written hers instead.

Then she couldn’t take any more. She dropped the green watering can, slumped on to her knees and started to sob. Everything came out now, all the things she had pent up inside. She hadn’t cried for a long time, she’d been afraid to give way to such extreme grief. She stayed on the ground while the tears poured down her cheeks.

Come to me, Mia, come.

Sigrid. Lovely, beautiful, darling, Sigrid. What difference did it make that Mia had shot some junkie loser? Nothing. It made no difference at all. It had only triggered more tragedy. More grieving relatives. More darkness. She had never meant to. She had never meant to shoot him. She had really never meant to shoot. She should be punished. She didn’t deserve to live. She could feel it now. She deserved to die. All these years she had been weighed down by the guilt of the survivor, only she had never managed to put it into words, but it came to her now. She was guilty. Guilty of being alive. She should be with her family. That was where she belonged. With Sigrid. Not here on this bloody planet, where evil and selfishness had the upper hand; there was no point in fighting it any longer, trying to understand, trying to do good. The world was a rubbish heap. People were rotten to the core. She wanted nothing more to do with it.

Someone had written her name on the gravestone. Was someone coming after her? Wanting her dead? She had enemies, of course she did, no police officerswith her reputation got through their career without making some, but she could‘ot think of anyone in particular. It was unpleasant to see her name on the gravestone, but the feeling of rage because someone had desecrated Sigrid’s final place of rest was much worse.

She muttered curses at the unknown attacker, got up and dried her tears. Cleared away the leaves and twigs, put the flowers in the vase and continued tidying the graves. She dug her fingers into the soil, turning it over so that it would look fresher. It was nicer this way. Went back to where she had fetched the watering can and found a rake. Took off her leather jacket and her jumper. Dipped the sleeve of her jumper in the water from the watering can and tried to scrub off her own name from the gravestone. The spray paint refused to budge. She had to talk to someone about it, get it removed as quickly as possible. She hated it being there, mocking her. Mocking both of them. She raked away the last remains of dead foliage while she waited for the verger. She should have come earlier. This was far too late. She mumbled, ‘Sorry, Sigrid, forgive me,’ through pressed lips, trying to hold back a fresh stream of tears.

There was a small yellow plastic container behind the vase. The kind you would find inside a Kinder Egg. She bent down and picked up, took it to the nearest bin and dumped it. She was walking back towards the grave when she stopped in her tracks.

Could it be?

No, it was impossible.

She spun around, went back to the bin and retrieved the yellow container. She twisted it open.

There was a note inside.

Mia’s hands shook as she unfurled the note.

Peek-a-boo, Mia. Clever girl. But you’re not as clever as you think you are. You think this is the real grave, but it isn’t. Can you see me, Mia? Can you see me now?

Mia Krüger ran as fast as she could down to her car to find her mobile. She had dozens of missed calls but decided to ignore all of them. She wiped the tears from her eyes and rang Munch.

Chapter 68

Ludvig Grønlie stepped out on Munch’s smoking terrace to get a bit of fresh air. He let out a small sigh and stretched his body. He was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Other members of the unit had worked almost twice as many hours as he had recently. Ludvig Grønlie was coming up for sixty and, although no one had said it out loud, it was in the air. Long and loyal service. No one would reproach him if he didn’t work twenty-three hours a day any more. But it was not only the physical pressure that took its toll; the mental exertion was worse. Never any peace, always something that needed doing. As long as a serial killer was at large, none of them could truly rest.

His mobile rang. He recognized the name on the display and answered the call.

‘Grønlie speaking,’ Ludvig said, stretching again.

‘Hello, Ludvig, it’s Kjell.’

‘Hi, Kjell, did you find something?’

Kjell Martinssen was one of Ludvig’s old colleagues. They had worked together in Oslo for years but, in contrast to Munch, Martinssen had chosen to be demoted. No, that was unfair: he had made the decision to take it easy. He had met a woman. Requested a transfer to Ringerike Police. His old colleague had made a wise move. He sounded relaxed and happy.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.’

‘A support group for childless women?’

‘Yes,’ his colleague said. ‘Only they call it talking therapy. Heidi does quite a lot of work for Ringerike Volunteer Service, so she pointed me in the right direction.’

Heidi was the woman who had made Martinssen leave the city. The thought had sometimes crossed Ludvig’s mind. Say goodbye to the stress in the capital and find himself a job in a small town. It had never happened and now his retirement was only a few years away.

‘It was active from 2005 to 2007 – that was the timeframe you were asking about, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s correct,’ Ludvig nodded. ‘Do you have a list of names?’

‘I can do better than that – I can get you a picture of every member as well as their names and addresses.’

‘Good work, Kjell, good work,’ Ludvig said, returning to his desk. ‘Will you be faxing it over?’

He regretted his words immediately.

‘Fax it, Ludvig?’ his colleague chuckled. ‘Don’t you have email?’

‘Email me. I meant, email me.’

‘I’ll get someone to scan it and send it to you as soon as it’s ready.’

‘Sounds great, Kjell. Great job.’

‘Do you think you’ll get him?’ His colleague sounded more serious now. ‘People are talking up here. People worry.’

‘We’ll get her,’ Ludvig said, then wondered if perhaps he had given something away.

‘Her? Stoltz? The one whose photo you sent us? Who is wanted for questioning?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Ludvig said, an idea coming into his head. ‘Is she in any of your pictures?’

‘Might be. I haven’t seen them yet. Heidi had to go down to the Volunteer Service Bureau to pick them up. She’s on her way here now. Hey, Rune, is our scanner working?’

The latter was shouted out into the room at the other end of the phone. His colleague got a positive response back.

‘If Heidi is right and she finds it, you’ll have it today, OK?’

‘Excellent,’ Ludvig said.

He had just finished the call when Gabriel Mørk popped his head into the room.

‘Have you heard anything from Munch or Mia?’

‘I spoke to Munch not long ago, but Mia isn’t answering her phone. Why?’

‘I just wanted to let her know that I think we’ll have the movie sorted sometime today. I’ve sent it to a mate of mine who knows how to clean up noise.’

‘Great,’ Ludvig said, and suddenly remembered what Munch had asked him. ‘You don’t happen to need some fresh air, do you?’

‘Why?’

‘Munch’s daughter needs some stuff, she’s up in that flat. Could you deal with it?’

‘All right,’ the young man said. ‘What does she need?’

‘Hang on,’ Ludvig said, checking his phone for the list Munch had sent him.

Chapter 69

Emilie Isaksen couldn’t believe her eyes when she stepped inside the small house. The hallway was dark and so full of junk she had trouble navigating it. The rest of the house wasn’t much better. Rotting food scraps, ashtrays, bags of rubbish no one had disposed of. Emilie just about managed not to pinch her nose. Even so, she tried putting on a brave face. She didn’t want to expose the little boy to more than he had already been through. All alone for a whole week in this dump of a home, without food or anyone to look after him. Emilie Isaksen was outraged, but she managed a smile.

‘Would you like to see our secret hiding place?’ Torben asked her.

He seemed overjoyed to have a visitor. He had seemed almost startled when he had opened the door to her, scared and with large, tearful eyes, but now he was starting to liven up.

‘Yes, please.’ Emilie smiled and followed the little boy up the stairs to the first floor.

The first floor was just as bad as the ground floor. Emilie struggled to make sense of it all. It was almost too much for her. Poverty was one thing, but this? It wasn’t until they reached what was clearly the two boys’ bedroom that the house began to resemble a home. It smelled clean inside and the room was tidy and light.

‘We hide things inside the mattress in case the baddies come,’ Torben explained, and knelt down in front of the bed.

He unzipped the thin mattress and pulled it apart so that Emilie could see it.

‘Is that the note from Tobias?’ Emilie pointed at it.

‘Yes.’ Torben nodded eagerly.

‘Please may I see it?’

‘Of course.’

He stuck a filthy hand into the secret hiding place and gave her the note.

I’m going to spy on the Christian girls, I will be back soon. Tobias.

‘Do you know when he wrote it?’

The little boy thought hard.

‘No. But it must have been before I came home, because it was here when I got back.’

Emilie couldn’t help laughing.

‘I’m sure you’re right. So when did you get back?’

‘After the football match.’

‘Which football match was that? Do you remember?

‘Liverpool against Norwich. I watched it at my friend Clas’s house. Yhey get the football on their telly, not just the Norwegian Cup Final, but all kinds of games. Clas and I support Liverpool. They won.’

‘Would that have been last Saturday?’

‘Probably, I guess,’ Torben nodded, scratching his hair.

The boy was covered in grime, and he didn’t smell too good either. He needed a bath, clean clothes, food, fresh bedlinen. Today was Friday. The boy had been home at home alone since last Saturday evening. Emilie sat on the floor in the boys’ bedroom somewhat at a loss. What was she going to do? She couldn’t leave the boy here alone. Then again, she couldn’t take him home either. Or could she?

‘Do you want to see what else we keep in the secret hiding place?’ Torben offered.

He acted almost as if he was scared that she would leave him now that she had got what she came for.

‘Yes, I would like to, but listen, Torben?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you saying that Tobias hasn’t been back home since you found the note?’

‘No, no one has been here.’

‘Hasn’t anyone called you?’

The boy shook his head.

‘The landline doesn’t work. There’s no noise when I pick up the handset and mobiles are really expensive, did you know that?’ Emilie nodded and stroked the boy’s hair.

‘They are quite expensive, that’s true, and you don’t need to have one, either.’

‘No, that’s what Tobias says.’

‘Who are the Christian girls?’

‘We don’t know, we’re just guessing,’ the little boy said. ‘Some say they eat people, though that’s not true, but we know they don’t go to our school, they have their own school.’

Emilie Isaksen knew about as much as everybody else about the new residents up in the forest. Which was practically nothing. The teachers had discussed them in the staff room, but it had mostly been gossip; after all, none of the children was registered with the school, so they were not their responsibility.

‘So he went there last Saturday and no one has seen him since?’

‘I don’t know if he went there on Saturday. Liverpool won three nil. Luis Suarez scored a hat-trick, do you know what that is? Why don’t all televisions show the football? Did you bring me any food? I really like pizza.’

‘Do you fancy some pizza?’

‘Yeah, I really do,’ Torben said. ‘But you have to see this first.’

‘OK.’ Emilie smiled.

‘This is a piece of rock that fell from the moon,’ Torben said, showing her a black stone with holes in it. ‘We kept it because the aliens might want it back, and then they can kill two birds with one stone, because they’ll be able to repair the hole in the moon and we get to see the people who live there. Cool, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that really is cool,’ Emilie said, getting impatient.

Tobias Iversen had been missing for seven days and no one had sounded the alarm. She dreaded to think what could have happened to the handsome boy she had come to like so much over the last year.

‘And this is the secret number for a police officer Tobias and I know. We can ring him whenever we need anything, or if we’re in Oslo. Because we’re heroes, did you know that?’

‘Yes, so I’ve heard,’ Emilie said, and stroked Torben’s hair again.

She could only just get her fingers through it. He really needed a bath. And some food. And, not least, someone to talk to. The two brothers had found the second murder victim in the grotesque series of child murders that was all over the media. At school, they had held an assembly the day after the discovery, with several psychologists present so the children could discuss the events with someone if they wanted to.

‘This man is called Kim. It says so here.’ Torben pointed proudly.

He handed her the business card and pointed at it again.

‘K-i-m, Kim, isn’t that right?’

‘Well done, Torben, I didn’t know you could read?’

‘Oh, I can,’ the boy smiled.

Emilie looked at the business card.

Kim Kolsø, Violent Crimes Section, Special Unit

‘Do you know something, Torben?’ Emilie said, getting up.

‘No?’

‘I think we should go get a pizza.’

‘Yes!’

The little boy punched the air.

‘But first I think you should have a shower and put on some clean clothes. Do you think you can manage that yourself, or do you want me to help you?’

‘Pah, I can do that myself,’ the little boy said, walking across to a wardrobe.

‘These are my clothes,’ he said, pointing to the three bottom shelves.

‘Great.’ Emilie smiled. ‘You find what you need and then take a shower. Afterwards we’ll go get some pizza.’

‘Ace,’ Torben said, kneeling down in front of the wardrobe to pick out the items he needed.

‘I’m stepping outside to make a phone call, is that OK?’

‘You’re not leaving, are you?’

The little boy looked at her with anxious eyes.

‘No, no,’ Emilie said.

‘Promise?’

‘I promise, Torben.’

She stroked his hair again.

‘Now, you go shower, OK?’

‘I will,’ Torben said, and skipped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Emilie didn’t want to know what state the bathroom was in. She could barely conceal her despair any longer. The two brothers who had to live in these conditions without anyone taking care of them.

She waited until she heard the shower being turned on before she went downstairs and outside to make the call.

‘Ringerike Police?’

‘Yes, hi, my name is Emilie Isaksen. I’m a teacher at Hønefoss School and I would like to report a child missing.’

‘Hold on,’ the voice said. ‘I’m connecting you.’

Emilie waited impatiently while she was transferred through the system.

‘Holm speaking.’

Emilie introduced herself again and explained the situation.

‘And where are his parents?’ said the man on the phone.

‘I don’t know. I found his younger brother home alone. He’s been on his own for a week.’

‘And the boy, we’re talking about, Tobias, was that his name?’

‘Iversen. Tobias Iversen.’

‘When was he last seen?’

‘I’m not sure, but he left behind a note which was found last Saturday. The note said he had gone into the woods to look for, well, it’s a religious group that has bought the old rehab centre up there, perhaps you have heard about them?’

‘We have,’ the police officer said.

He fell silent for a moment. It sounded as if he was covering the microphone on his phone. Perhaps he was consulting some of his colleagues.

‘So we’re talking about the boy whom you say is missing, and his parents are gone as well, is that what you’re telling me?’

Emilie could feel that she was starting to dislike him.

‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying,’ she said curtly.

‘So how do you know that he’s not with his parents?’

‘I don’t.’

‘So he could be with his parents?’

‘No, he’s up in the woods!’

‘Says who?’ the voice said.

‘He left behind a note for his brother.’

The man on the telephone heaved a sigh.

‘Listen,’ Emilie said, losing her patience now. ‘I’m here with a seven-year-old boy who has been at home alone for one week. His brother is gone. His parents are gone. And you’re telling me that you can’t…?’

She could feel the rage surging now. She had to breathe deeply to keep the conversation going.

‘No, of course we can’t. I’ll make a note of it and we’ll see what we can do about it tomorrow. Would it be possible for you to drop by the station sometime later today?’

‘Tomorrow?’ Emilie shouted. ‘Are you going to let a boy who has been in the woods for a whole week spend yet another night outside? What if something has happened to him?’

‘I understand, but I can’t just… I mean, what if the parents have gone on holiday and taken the boy with them?’

‘And left his seven-year-old brother at home alone?’

‘Worse things have happened,’ the police officer said. ‘I’ll make a note of your number, I’ll look into it, and someone will call you back.’

‘You do that,’ Emilie snarled.

She gave him her number and hung up.

Chapter 70

Gabriel Mørk was standing outside the exclusive block of flats in Frogner, getting absolutely no response. He was starting to get annoyed with Ludvig, who had dispatched him here. He hadn’t realized that his job would involve fetching groceries. He knew he wasn’t a senior member of the special unit – after all, he had only just started – but to go shopping? Surely someone else could have done that? He had more important things to deal with right now. He looked up at the flats and rang the doorbell again. There was still no response. It was a smart development. The most desirable part of West Oslo. Each flat had large windows and a terrace overlooking the park. He thought about his girlfriend and the baby she was carrying. He had been so worried to begin with. Where would they live? How would they pay the bills when the baby came? They’d had to buy so much stuff, and he was embarrassed at how ignorant he’d been. He really hadn’t known the first thing about becoming a father. Cots and buggies – and that was only for starters. But not any more. Now he had a job. Out of the blue. A cool job, at that. An important job. He had never thought that he would come to see it like that. The police had been… the enemy, to be blunt. To the other hackers he knew. But they had no idea what they were talking about. They hadn’t met Mia Krüger. And Holger Munch. And Curry. And Anette. And Ludvig. And Kim and all the others. They didn’t know what it was like to have colleagues. Going to work, being a part of something where people smiled and said hello and knew that you belonged to the team, who liked you and respected the work you did. He felt he was helping make the news, somehow. He had never cared much about the news before, not until now, but this was completely different when it was about your own work. Also, the equipment the technicians from Grønland had brought him was brilliant. He would never have been able to afford it himself; for the first few days he had almost felt like a little kid at Christmas.

He rang the doorbell yet again and wondered what kind of property he and his girlfriend should buy. They couldn’t afford anything in this area, obviously, but perhaps something nice on the other side of town? Probably not with a garden, but their own place; he could feel how much he was looking forward to it. His name on the door. We live here, Gabriel and Tove and Ö well, they hadn’t discussed baby names yet. He was just about to try the doorbell once more when the front door opened and an old lady came out. He smiled politely to her, held the door open and slipped inside the stairwell.

He carried the bags up the stairs to the second floor. Ludvig had explained that it was the flat at the far end of the corridor. He was about to ring the bell when he noticed that the door was ajar.

‘Hello?’ he called out softly. ‘Is anyone here?’

He carried the shopping inside the hallway.

‘Hello? I’ve brought you some things from Holger Munch.’

It was not until then that he discovered the body.

What the hell?

He threw down the bags, called 112 and knelt down by the woman lying on the floor.

Chapter 71

Mia Krüger broke the speed limit, but so what. She had been wrong, wrong all along. It was the wrong Munch. The killer wasn’t coming after Holger. She was the target. She swore softly and overtook an articulated lorry. She only just managed to throw the car into the right-hand lane again before the oncoming traffic reached her. Behind her, she could hear the lorry driver sound his horn angrily as she pressed the accelerator even harder. Not the right Munch. Not Holger. But Edvard Munch. Åsgårdstrand. It was her. Mia Krüger. She was the target. Not Holger. She was ashamed. She had been wrong. Damn! why didn’t Munch pick up his phone? She overtook another car, a campervan this time, turned the steering wheel with one hand as she returned to the inside lane, again in the nick of time. She pressed the mobile to her cheek, considered using the police radio but decided against it. You never knew who was listening in, and she didn’t want anyone to hear what she had to say.

She was just about to try Munch once mor, but was interrupted when her mobile rang. It was Gabriel.

‘Where’s Munch?’ Mia said.

‘Where are you?’ Gabriel said.

‘On my way to the office. Where’s Munch?’

‘Heaven only knows,’ Gabriel said. ‘He’s not answering his bloody phone, Mia.’

It wasn’t until then that she realized how distraught he sounded.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Marion is gone.’

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘She really is.’

The young man was almost stuttering now.

‘I went to the flat with some things and I found her on the floor.’

‘Who?’

‘His daughter.’

‘Miriam?’

‘Yes.’

Bollocking bollocks.

‘Is she all right?’

Mia moved into the opposite lane again. She passed three cars before returning to her own lane.

‘She’s unconscious, but she’s breathing.’

Miriam must have been drugged, Mia thought Hadn’t she not told them they needed to have an officer posted outside 24/7?

‘And no trace of Marion?’

‘None,’ Gabriel said.

The young man was almost on the verge of tears now.

‘Have you tracked Holger’s phone? The last time I talked to him, he was on his way to the care home. His mother had taken a turn for the worse.’

‘His mother?’ Gabriel asked.

‘Forget it. I need to speak to him right now.’

‘I’m not at the office,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’ve gone to Frogner.’

‘Get back to the office,’ Mia said, sounding her horn at a motorbike that was hogging the lane in front of her.

‘We… work… noise red…’

‘I can’t hear you,’ Mia said. ‘Say it again.’

At last she had overtaken the biker and could hit the accelerator once more.

‘We’re working on the film right now, noise reduction,’ Gabriel said.

‘Good. When will we have it?’

‘As soon as it’s ready.’

‘Yes, but when will that be?’

She was losing her temper and took a deep breath. This was not his fault. He had done a good job.

‘I can’t say for sure,’ Gabriel said.

‘Get yourself to the office and call me when you’re there.’

She ended the call and rang Ludvig.

‘Where have you been?’ her colleague wanted to know. ‘All hell has broken loose here, haven’t you heard?’

‘Yes, I’ve heard. Where’s Holger?’

‘No idea, he’s not answering his phone. Are you far away?’

‘Twenty minutes, half an hour,’ Mia said.

‘Damn. This is a total cock-up.’

That was undoubtedly true. They had had Marion under police protection, and now she was gone.

She ended the call and rang Directory Enquiries. It had started to rain now. The raindrops beat the windscreen hard and visibility was diminishing. She turned on the windscreen wipers, but didn’t take her foot off the accelerator.

‘Directory Enquiries?’

‘Please put me through to Høvikveien Care Home.’

‘Would you like me to inform you of the number?’

‘No, damn it, just put me through,’ Mia snarled, and hit the brakes when she realized that she was dangerously close to the verge.

It took a long time before anyone picked up.

‘Høvikveien Care Home. Birgitte speaking.’

‘Yes, hello, this is Mia Krüger. You wouldn’t happen to have Holger Munch there, would you?’

‘He was here a while ago,’ the voice said.

‘I know, but is he there now?’

‘No, I haven’t seen him.’

Bollocks.

‘Is Karen there?’

‘Yes, Karen is here. Hang on.’

A million seconds passed. Mia felt like screaming into her phone. She had to turn the windscreen wipers on to max in order to be able to see out of the window. A million more seconds passed before Karen finally arrived.

‘Yes? Karen speaking.’

‘Hi, Karen, it’s Mia Krüger.’

‘Hi, Mia, nice to hear from you.’

‘Have you seen Holger today?’

‘Yes, he was here earlier. His mother had a turn, but fortunately it was nothing serious. The doctor gave her something to make her sleep and-’

‘Yes, all right, fine,’ Mia interrupted her. ‘But is he there now?’

‘No, he’s left.’

‘Do you know where he went?’

‘No, I don’t. He was completely exhausted. I told him that…’

Mia swore under her breath. She didn’t have time for this.

‘… so I woke him one hour later. He didn’t look all that well when he left, but Ö’

‘But you don’t know where he went?’

‘No, he got a call and ran out of the door. He didn’t even say goodbye,’ Karen said.

‘OK,’ Mia said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Listen,’ Karen said, just as Mia was about to ring off.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t know if this is important, but her car is outside.’

‘Whose?’

‘Malin. Malin Stoltz. Her car is here.’

It was now raining so heavily that Mia was forced to slow down. The raindrops battered the windscreen almost like hailstones; she could see the cars in front of her hit the brakes, the red lights glowing at her through the windscreen. She eased off the accelerator and exhaled. Holger had got a call. Who from? Someone had called him, and he had run. Holger never ran. He hadn’t even said goodbye. But run. Who on earth made Holger Munch run?

The killer.

It was obvious. Marion had been abducted. The killer had called Holger. Holger, for his part, had not called anyone from the team. He had run off without saying goodbye. It had to be Marion. He would never run for anyone else.

‘Are you still there, Mia?’

‘Sorry, Karen, what did you say?’

‘Oh, it’s probably not important. We can talk about it another time.’

‘No, what did you say? About her car?’

‘It’s downstairs in the underground car park. I don’t know if it means anything, but…’

‘What kind of car is it?’

‘It’s a white Citro‘n.’

A white Citro‘n.

Mia looked through the windscreen. Trying to work out where she was. She saw a sign saying Slependen. She wasn’t far from the care home.

‘I’ll be there shortly,’ she said. ‘Is the car locked?’

‘I don’t know,’ Karen said. ‘But she might have left a spare key in her locker in the staff room. She can be a little distracted, misplacing things, I think I heard her say that’-

‘Great, Karen,’ Mia interrupted her again. ‘Please would you find out for me. I’ll be there shortly, OK?’

She ended the call and rang Anette.

‘Anette speaking.’

‘Hi, it’s Mia.’

‘Thank God. Where have you been?’

‘Åsgårdstrand. Has Munch called you?’

‘No, have you heard?’

‘Yes, what a nightmare.’

‘Yes, it certainly is. And Mikkelson is here. He’s freaking out.’

Mia realized that she didn’t give a toss what Mikkelson thought.

‘Who’s in charge now?’ she said, scouting for the exit.

‘Mikkelson,’ Anette replied.

‘But he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on, Anette. You have to take over.’

‘What do you want me to do? By the way, where are you?’

‘I’ll be in Høvik soon. We’ve found Stoltz’s car. Any news about her, by the way?’

‘No, nothing. What do you want me to do?’

‘Get hold of Gabriel and get the GPS location from that bloody film. And make him put a trace on Munch’s phone. I think the killer might have called him and that he’s on his way to meet him.’

‘OK,’ Anette said. ‘Anything else?’

‘We have to…’

Mia saw the exit for Høvik and turned off. The worst of the rain was easing of now and she could actually see where she was going.

‘Have to what?’

She couldn’t think of anything else.

‘Just get that bloody film sorted out and trace Munch’s phone.’

‘OK,’ Anette said. ‘Oh yes, Ludvig has something for you.’

‘What is it?’

‘A photograph. The therapy group in Hønefoss.’

Brilliant. Her hunch had proved to be spot-on.

‘Ask him to forward it to my mobile.’

‘But nothing on Stoltz?’

‘Not a dickie bird.’

‘OK, I’m just about to arrive. I’ll call you if the car turns out to be interesting.’

Mia ended the call and pulled into the care home.

Chapter 72

Lukas was sitting on the bench by the lake wrapped in a blanket. He was wearing dry clothes, but he still struggled to warm up. Pastor Simon had held him underwater. He had almost drowned. Pastor Simon had asked him if he could see the devil, but he couldn’t, and then the pastor had pushed his head under the water. Lukas was confused. First, the pastor nearly drowned him, then he brought him dry clothes. He had kept the dry clothes and the blanket in the car. The pastor must have planned this? Why?

Pastor Simon returned from the car with a packed lunch and a Thermos flask. He sat on the bench of the picnic table, facing Lukas. Brown cheese sandwiches. He unscrewed the lid on the Thermos and poured hot chocolate into the cup.

‘Eat and drink,’ the pastor said.

Lukas took a sip of the cocoa and felt the warmth flow down his throat. He ate the sandwiches slowly while the pastor watched him. The pastor didn’t say a single word. He sat on the bench with his hands folded in front of him, looking at Lukas with a soft, warm gaze. Lukas was still a little scared, but he was starting to feel much better. The pastor didn’t take his eyes off him for one second. Usually, he would look above his head, towards Heaven, or at some other point; at any rate, never directly at him, never fix his eyes on him like he did now. Slowly, Lukas’s body began to warm up. He tried meeting the pastor’s gaze but was only partly successful. He had eaten all the sandwiches and drunk three cups of hot chocolate before the pastor finally started talking.

‘God sent his only son, Jesus Christ, to earth to take on himself the sins of the world,’ the pastor said. ‘The people had the chance to save Jesus, but they chose Barabbas, the thief, instead.’

Lukas nodded softly.

‘What does this tell you about people?’ the pastor asked him.

Lukas did not reply. He didn’t want to get it wrong and end up under the water again. He could still feel the panic coursing through him.

‘That people don’t know what’s good for them,’ the pastor continued. ‘People should not be allowed to decide for themselves. You understand that, don’t you, Lukas?’

Lukas nodded. They had talked about this before. Most people were stupid. They didn’t know what was good for them. For that reason, God had chosen only a few who would go to Heaven. Only the special ones. The initiated. Those who had realized this. Forty people from the church. And a few others. People from across the world whom they would meet in the course of time.

Pastor Simon looked straight at him and took his hand.

‘I am God,’ the pastor said.

At this, Lukas felt all the warmth return to his body. He started tingling all over, more strongly than ever. From his toes, up to his ankles, his thighs, his stomach, up to his throat, his face was flushed and now, also, his ears.

‘I am God,’ the pastor said. ‘And you are my Son.’

Lukas sat with his mouth hanging open. The pastor was God. It was obvious now. This was how it was. It made perfect sense. When he talked to God in his office, he was talking to himself. The pastor was God. And he, Lukas, was the Son of God.

‘Father,’ Lukas said in awe, and bowed his head.

‘My Son,’ the pastor said, placing his hand on Lukas’s head.

Lukas felt the warmth from the hand of God spread across his scalp.

‘You passed the test,’ the pastor said. ‘You put your life in my hands. And I hope that you trust me now. I could have killed you, but I didn’t. Because you have greater tasks to accomplish before we go home.’

‘Home?’ Lukas said cautiously.

‘To Heaven.’ The pastor smiled.

‘Am I really the new Jesus?’ Lukas stammered.

The pastor nodded.

‘Twenty-seven years ago, I sent you to earth.’

Lukas could barely believe his ears. Of course. It all fitted! And it explained why he had no parents.

‘And I found you again.’ Lukas nodded reverently.

‘You found me again.’ The pastor smiled.

‘But the first Jesus accomplished great things. What have I done?’ Lukas said.

‘It will happen.’ The pastor smiled. ‘Today.’

‘Today?’ Lukas said, with anticipation in his voice.

The pastor smiled and walked back to the car. He returned holding a small bundle, which he placed carefully on the bench.

‘For me?’

‘Open it.’ The pastor smiled again.

Lukas unwrapped the bundle with trembling fingers. His eyes widened when he saw the contents.

‘A gun?’

The pastor nodded.

‘What do you want me to do?’

The pastor leaned towards him and took his hand.

‘Last week, an intruder came into the House of Light.’

‘Who?’

‘A boy, sent by the devil.’

Lukas could feel the rage explode inside him. The devil had sent a boy to stop them from travelling. He knew it. The pastor and Nils had been so quiet recently.

‘But, fortunately, I am stronger than the devil.’ The pastor smiled once more. ‘I know him, but he does not know me.’

Of course, Lukas thought.

Deo sic per diabolum.

‘The path to God goes through the devil.’

Understand the devil. Get to know him. This was what the pastor had meant.

‘And where is the boy now?’

‘He’s being held in the safe room.’

‘And what are we going to do with him?’

‘You are going to kill him,’ the pastor said.

Lukas looked at the gun in front of him and nodded softly.

‘There’s just one small problem.’

‘What’s that?’

‘He has taken Rakel prisoner. My Rakel.’

‘Vile demon,’ Lukas sneered.

‘So you must be careful. Kill the boy, but don’t harm Rakel. I need my Rakel in Heaven.’

‘I promise to do my best.’

Lukas bowed and kissed the pastor’s hand. The pastor rose. Lukas wrapped the pistol in the cloth again and carried it back to the car.

‘When we get to Heaven, you’ll get your very own Rakel.’

‘Oh?’ Lukas said.

‘I promise.’ The pastor nodded. ‘You know the little angels who have been hanging from the trees?’

‘The girls everyone’s talking about?’

‘Yes.’ The pastor nodded. ‘They’ll meet us up there. You can choose one of them.’

His very own girl? But he didn’t want a girl. God was enough for him. What on earth would he do with a little girl? Lukas decided not to say anything; he didn’t want to argue with the pastor. He put on his seatbelt, started the car and drove calmly down the forest track to the farm.

Chapter 73

Kim Kolsø sat at the back of the incident room listening to everything falling apart. Not for him, but for Munch and Mia. Not that either of them were there – had they been, they might have been able to answer some of Mikkelson’s questions. Mia had been unavailable all day, but he believed that Anette had spoken to her and learned that Mia had been to Åsgårdstrand and was now on her way back. No one had heard from Munch.

Kim Kolsø sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. He looked up at Mikkelson, who was pacing up and down in front of the board like a teacher, his forehead furrowed above his glasses and his hands behind his back. They had been cast as his pupils, about to receive a telling’off. He glanced at Curry, who mouthed the word ‘bullshit’ and rolled his eyes. Kim had to look away so as not to laugh, but he totally agreed. Their workload was insane. Not one member of the team was able to sit still. Not even Ludvig, who was coming up for retirement; he was squirming like a fidgety little kid on the edge of his chair. Gabriel Mørk seemed to have borne the brunt of it. He had been dragged out of his office, where he had been Skyping a mate, who was cleaning up the sound on the Kiese movie. The young man was rocking back and forth against the back of his chair and looked as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

‘Right?’ Mikkelson said, looking across the room. ‘Is everyone here?’

No one said anything. If Mikkelson was the teacher, they were the naughty kids who had been put in detention due to their lack of respect for authority. The room was a powder keg. The air was laden with tension.

‘Can anyone update us?’

Mikkelson pushed his glasses up his nose and looked across the room again. No one said anything. The class rebellion against the teacher continued; it was childish, but the anger was real. Munch’s and Mia’s loyallest friends and colleagues sat in this room. No one had any interest in seeing them discredited.

‘Where is Holger Munch?’ Mikkelson said. ‘Where is Mia Krüger?’

At length, Anette rose to her feet.

‘We haven’t heard from Holger,’ she said calmly. ‘I have spoken to Mia.’

‘Status?’

‘She was on her way here the last time I talked to her.’

‘And Munch?’

‘We haven’t heard from him for a while, but Mia had a theory,’ Anette continued.

‘I bet she had,’ Mikkelson said sarcastically, without getting much of a reaction from the team. ‘And what was that?’

‘That Munch must have received a call from the killer,’ Anette said. ‘That the killer ordered him to meet him alone, and that’s what he’s gone to do.’

‘But all our phones are being monitored. Is there anything to suggest that this might be the case?’ Mikkelson said.

‘No,’ Gabriel Mørk said. ‘Nothing from his phone before he turned it off.’

‘The killer could have contacted him some other way, couldn’t he?’ Ludvig Grønlie ventured cautiously.

‘What do you mean?’ Mikkelson said.

‘Well, I don’t know, but he has a private email account, I mean, he’s on the Net, Gmail, and so on. We don’t have access to those, or do we?’

Grønlie looked tentatively at Gabriel Mørk; he was well aware that he belonged to a different generation of police officers and hoped that he hadn’t been mistaken.

‘Are you telling me that everything we do online is being monitored? I certainly hope not,’ Curry quipped.

A few of the others tittered.

‘No, we don’t have access to those,’ Gabriel Mørk said.

‘So he could have got a message,’ Anette said. ‘Something which meant he had to turn up for a meeting alone?’

Mikkelson sighed.

‘And is that how we work?’

He looked across the gathering, still without getting the response he was seeking.

‘And is that how we work?’ he said again, a little louder this time. ‘No, it is not, we’re a team. A team. We don’t have room for maverick gung ho operations. Here, we keep each other informed about what is happening and we work together. No wonder you haven’t come up with anything.’

‘Actually, we’ve discovered quite a lot.’ Ludvig coughed and got up.

Kim really liked Ludvig Grønlie. He had exactly what it took to belong to the special unit. It was odd, really: several people had joined the unit only to leave soon afterwards because they just didn’t fit in. No one could quite put their finger on what it was. It was more than ability, age, background or specialism, it was also chemistry. A shared tacit understanding. This is what we do, and this is what we don’t do. He had met several talented colleagues who had joined them but never settled in. People who couldn’t stand the sight of Munch. Who thought that Mia Krüger was the most overrated investigator of her generation. Kim had worked with both Munch and Mia for a long time. And he couldn’t imagine doing any other job in the whole world.

Ludvig Grønlie gave Mikkelson a brief account about what they had discovered so far. Malin Stoltz. The flat filled with mirrors. The link between Høvikveien Care Home and a support group for childless women in Hønefoss. The Kiese movie, which, if Mikkelson had not insisted they all sat here like naughty children, would soon provide them with a location where Stoltz was holding Marion Munch.

‘Right, right,’ Mikkelson said, pushing his glasses back in place. ‘And where do we stand?’

‘Can I go now?’

It was Gabriel Mørk speaking. Kim Kolsø smiled discreetly to himself. He liked this young man. He had appeared out of nowhere and in no time become an important member of the team. A Munch special. Munch had brought in Mia Krüger in the same way. Rumour had it that she hadn’t even had to complete her training at Police College.

‘Why?’ Mikkelson said with a frown.

‘If Munch has gone to find the killer, it might be a good idea for us to know where that place is,’ Gabriel Mørk said. ‘We’re in the process of cleaning up the film. I have a mate who is brilliant at this. We’ll have the GPS coordinates soon. Perhaps it would be a better use of my time than sitting here.’

Kim laughed to himself. When he had first met Gabriel Mørk in the street, the young lad had looked as if he was afraid of his own shadow. Now it was as if he had been with the team from the start.

‘And who are you again?’ Mikkelson said, taking off his glasses.

‘Gabriel,’ Mørk replied.

‘How much police experience did you say you had?’

‘Two weeks,’ Mørk replied, deadpan.

‘I have twenty years,’ Mikkelson said, putting on his glasses again. ‘Perhaps I should be the judge of what we should be spending our time on, don’t you think?’

His attempt at sarcasm landed on stony ground. Kim could see Curry winking at Gabriel Mørk, who responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

‘Anette?’ Mikkelson said, seeking support.

‘Gabriel is right,’ Anette said, getting up. ‘The Kiese film is important and should be our number-one priority. If Munch has chosen to shut us out because Stoltz has given him an ultimatum, it is understandable. He loves his granddaughter. I would have done exactly the same.’

Kim could see the colour change in Mikkelson’s face. If he had thought that Anette Goli was on his side, he had been very much mistaken. Curry winked at Kim and got a smile back in return.

‘I see,’ Mikkelson said, sounding wounded and flicking through some papers on the table in front of him. ‘So what do we do now?’

Kim Kolsø had turned off the alerts on his mobile, but he had forgotten to turn off the vibration. His mobile suddenly jumped on the table in front of him, displaying an unknown number.

‘Yes?’ Mikkelson said irritably, glaring at him.

‘I have to take this one,’ Kim said, getting up.

‘Really?’ Mikkelson said.

‘Yes,’ Kim insisted.

‘Then…’ Mikkelson said.

Kim left the room and didn’t hear what followed. He went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee as he spoke on his mobile.

‘Kim Kolsø speaking.’

The caller was a woman.

‘Yes, hi, my name is Emilie Isaksen.’

‘Right, hi. What can I do for you?’

Kim opened the fridge and found a carton of milk. If there was one thing he and Mia Krüger agreed about, it was that you risked your life drinking the stuff that came out of the coffee machine.

‘I found your business card inside a mattress,’ the woman said. ‘And I don’t know what to do. I’m hoping you might be able to help?’

‘I might well be. What do you need help with?’ Kim said, adding some milk to his coffee.

Chapter 74

Tobias passed the blanket to Rakel and turned off his torch. This made the safe room seem completely dark, but they had no other choice. They had to conserve the torch batteries and their eyes quickly adjusted. Tobias didn’t know for how long they had been held prisoners in the underground room, but he estimated four to five days. He had opened the hatch and peered inside. He had whispered the name Rakel, the name of the girl he had just met, the Christian girl behind the fence, the girl in need of help, when someone had come up behind him and pushed him down inside. He had felt frightened and stupid, and he had hurt himself. He had fallen a long way, past a ladder, into a black hole where he had ended up on a hard concrete floor. Fortunately, he hadn’t landed on his head or his arms but on his side, and he believed that the latter had cushioned his fall, because he wasn’t in too much pain, only a bit in one hip and in one leg.

‘Should we try the hatch again?’ Rakel said in a soft voice through the darkness; he could barely make her out, although she wasn’t sitting far away from him.

‘I don’t t’ want to come across as defeatist, but they had made several attempts, most recently a few hours ago. He had climbed up the ladder and pressed his shoulder against the wooden hatch, but it hadn’t budged; it had been locked from the outside, and having the lock pick was no use as the lock was on the other side.

Fortunately, they had food. And blankets. And a torch. They had decided to conserve the batteries because they hadn’t found any spares. They were in a safe room. Rakel had explained it all to him. She had been down here several times. This was where they normally locked up naughty children. The ones who refused to do as they were told. Normally, they didn’t have to sit there very long; it depended on their offence. As far as Tobias had gathered, there were lots of different punishments on this farm. Being banned from talking for one week was one of them. Hence the notes Rakel had written and stuck through the fence. She could talk – she had not lost her voice, which was what he had first assumed – then he wondered if she was being difficult on purpose, like Chief Bromden in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. No, Rakel could talk all right and, after someone had pushed him down into the safe room where she was being held, she had talked almost non-stop. Tobias liked hearing her voice. She was unlike any other girl he had ever met and nothing like the ones at school, who mostly giggled or said silly things. Rakel spoke properly, almost like an adult. And she knew where everything in the safe room was. There was food in the boxes and large canisters of water and petrol and clothes. Everything you would need, although they had yet to find more batteries – but they surely had to be there somewhere.

Tobias had been inside a safe room before; they had one at his school and it had formed part of a drill. The Territorial Army had sounded the alarm and everyone had to walk in single file and pretend that war had broken out. The safe room at his school contained nothing but old PE mats and hockey sticks, not like this one, which was fully equipped. He had been scared for the first few days, but the feeling was subsiding. After all, nothing bad had happened so far and they had been there for a long time. They will let you out again, Rakel had said, they let you out in the end; sometimes, it just takes time. He was more worried about his brother. Torben would be upset when he came home and found Tobias missing. He had written him a note – at least he had done that – and hidden it inside the mattress on his bed, the one with the zip which was their secret hiding place. ‘I’m going to spy on the Christian girls. I will be back soon’, he had written. He hoped it would reassure him a bit.

‘I don’t think God exists any more,’ Rakel said, fumbling for his hand.

Tobias had held a girl’s hand before, but this was different. Rakel liked holding his hand for a long time, and he liked holding hers. Her fingers were soft and warm and, when she sat close to him, he could also sense the heat from her body. It was almost cosy; he wouldn’t have minded the two of them sitting like this for a long time. That is, if they hadn’t been trapped underground.

‘I don’t believe in God either,’ Tobias said, and not for the first time.

They had discussed this at length. It seemed important to Rakel. Talking about God. Sometimes he felt that she spoke mostly to herself, but he tried to reply to the best of his ability.

‘If there really is a God, he would not let people do horrible, disgusting things, don’t you agree?’

Rakel moved a little closer and squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back. They would do this from time to time.

Everything will be fine. We’re together.

‘I agree,’ Tobias said, even though he was not that interested in whether or not God existed.

At school he had learned there were many different gods; across the world people believed in different things, but Religious Studies was not his favourite subject and he had never given it much thought before.

‘So who do you believe in if you stop believing in God?’ Rakel pondered.

‘Superman?’ Tobias said, mostly in jest; it was the kind of comment he might make when to cheer his brother up when he felt sad.

‘Who?’ Rakel said.

He kept forgetting that Rakel was very ignorant of the world.

‘A man who is very strong and can fly.’

‘People can’t fly, surely?’ Rakel said in disbelief.

‘No, he can’t fly, and he’s not a real person, he’s a character in a comic strip.’

‘We have comics about Jesus,’ Rakel said, and fell silent again.

Tobias realized that he felt a little sorry for her. Not that he had that many things himself; it was the others in his class who had everything. Computers and iPods and iPhones, always the latest gadget, but at least he had a television and comics and books. Rakel had none of these.

‘When do you think they’ll let us out? What’s the longest anyone has ever sat here?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Rakel said. ‘There was a girl called Sara, she was here for two weeks, I believe, but she wasn’t here when I arrived.’

‘What did she do?’

‘They said she tried to run away.’

‘Like you?’

‘Yes.’

The room was colder now. Perhaps it was evening outside, maybe that would account for it. Tobias took a corner of the blanket and draped it around his shoulder. Rakel moved even closer and put the blanket all around him. They sat quietly for a while, close to each other under the blanket, holding hands tightly. Rakel rested her head on his shoulder and, after a while, he could hear her breathing deepen. She was dozing now. Tobias sat very still so as not to wake her, and closed his eyes. Soon he, too, was asleep. Not soundly, like at home in his bed; just napping. He didn’t realize that he had been sound asleep until he heard a loud noise. He woke with a start and saw that the hatch above them was in the process of being opened.

At last, he thought, as the light from a torch shone down the ladder.

Tobias Iversen roused the girl with the fine freckles and got up from the floor.

Chapter 75

The rain had eased off when Mia pulled up outside Høvikveien Care Home. She could see the dark clouds drift towards the centre of Oslo as she got out of the car and went up the steps.

Karen was behind the reception desk when she arrived. The same place Malin Stoltz had been standing the time Mia had discovered Veronica Bache’s canasta certificate on the wall. What a dimwit she had been. She had not made the connection. She was no longer functioning fully, maybe that was why. Nor had she realized that Stoltz was coming after her. Munch, yes, but the wrong Munch. Edvard Munch, not Holger. That would explain why the bodies had been displayed at Isegran Fort. The planned statues of Munch’s Mothers. Mia Krüger had worked on the Hønefoss case. Was that the killer’s thinking: Mia was a woman. A police officer and a woman. She should have known better. She should have found the baby because she was a woman? Mia could no longer think straight. Her trip to the cemetery had drained her of her last strength. Her grandmother was dead. Her father was dead. Her mother was dead. Sigrid was dead. She was all alone. She looked forward to it all being over. There had been times at Hitra when she had started having doubts as to whether she had made the right choice. Killing herself. Leaving this world. What if she was wrong? But not any more. She was certain now. She had made the right choice. She should never have left the island. In her mind she saw the pills waiting for her on the table. She realized she was looking forward to it.

Come to me, Mia, come.

But first she must find Marion. Gather the last of her strength and find the smiling little girl, the apple of Holger Munch’s eye. Track down Malin Stoltz. She thought briefly about Munch, who had received a telephone call and then disappeared. She hoped that he was OK. Perhaps he might even have caught Malin by now. Found his granddaughter. Mia mustered a small smile. She didn’t want the world to see how bad she really felt.

‘Hi, Karen.’

‘Hi, Mia.’

‘Thanks for calling, it was good of you. I’m sorry if I sounded a bit off, it’s just we’re quite busy at work.’

‘Has something happened?’ Karen asked with an anxious expression on her face.

She cares about Holger, Mia thought. It was obvious now.

‘Oh no, just the usual pressure,’ Mia lied. ‘Did you find that key?’

‘Yes, I have it here,’ Karen said. ‘Let me just put on my jacket.’

‘Has the car been there for a long time?’

‘I don’t know,’ Karen said, ushering her out of the door and down the stairs to the underground car park. ‘I took the rubbish down this morning – it’s not really my job, you understand, but well, we all have to pitch in when we’re busy – and that’s when I spotted it; I don’t know how long it’s been here.’

‘Why didn’t she use it to drive herself home?’ Mia wondered out loud.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Karen said, leading the way into the car park.

Fly like the ladybird, Mia, never forget that.

Her grandmother’s words on her deathbed. Mia no longer felt like she could fly. Karen was about her age, a little older, perhaps, but she looked in much better shape. Younger. Softer. Not a single wrinkle. She didn’t carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She worked in a care home. A world away from that of a worn-out investigator with thin skin. Mia was done in now. She could feel it physically. She had tried hanging on for so long. To be Mia Moonbeam. All alone in the world. Her visit to the cemetery had brought it home to her. She could stop fighting now. She steeled herself again and smiled at the kind woman. Munch and Karen. She hoped it would work out for them. They would be good together. He really deserved that.

‘Here it is,’ Karen said with a smile, indicating the white Citro‘n parked in a corner. ‘And here’s the key.’ She smiled again.

Mia unlocked the car and looked inside. At first glance, there was nothing to suggest that she was looking at a serial killer’s car. Everything looked normal. A cup from McDonald’s. A newspaper. Mia walked around the car and unlocked the boot. Nothing except what you would expect to find. A warning triangle. A pair of boots. Dammit, what had she expected? That Stoltz would have left some of the girls’ belongings there? She was much too clever for that. Cynical. Callous. Years of planning. She wouldn’t have left behind evidence in her car. She had even visited Sigrid’s grave. The very thought enraged Mia. She felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. The photograph from Ludvig. So at least parts of her brain were working. She was pleased that she had been right. A support group for childless women. It felt good to know that she had contributed something. She took out the mobile and opened Ludvig’s message. A photograph. The support group in Hønefoss: ‘Christmas Get-together 2005’. There were six women in total. Smiling in front of a Christmas tree. She recognized her straight away. Malin Stoltz. Not with different-coloured eyes. Two blue eyes. Lenses. Mia enlarged the picture slightly. Malin Stoltz. How strange. She looked so normal. An ordinary woman who longed for a child but could not have one. Smiling, with her arm around the woman standing next to her. The woman standing next to her. Mia enlarged the photograph to get a better look at her.

But what the hell?

She spun around, but she was too late. The woman in the photograph. The woman behind her. She felt the needle penetrate her neck, the back of her head hitting the metal of the open boot.

‘Count backwards from ten.’ Karen smiled once more. ‘That’s what they usually say. Count backwards from ten, then you’ll be asleep. Isn’t that funny? Ten – nine – eight…’

Mia Krüger was gone before she heard ‘six’.