I

Chapter 76

Anette Goli did not like the mood in the incident room. Mikkelson had taken over the case; he wanted to be in charge, but he didn’t have enough insight into the case to inspire the team, to get things done. She was starting to feel frustrated. They needed to move on now, quickly, they didn’t have time to bring Mikkelson up to speed. And where on earth was Mia? She had only just spoken to her. And why had Munch turned off his mobile? Because he was on his way to meet the killer, possibly, but then why not leave his mobile phone on so that they could trace him? Because he didn’t want them to trace him? She debated this with herself and so missed what Kim had just said.

‘Do you have to do that now?’ Mikkelson said. ‘Don’t we have more important things to do?’

Kim sighed.

‘Yes, but it strikes me there might be a link.’

‘And what is the link?’ Mikkelson asked.

Anette Goli had to bite her tongue and remind herself that Mikkelson had yet to catch up with the rest of them.

‘Tobias Iversen is the boy who discovered Johanne’s body,’ Kim said. ‘And now he ‘s gone missing. I’ve just spoken to his teacher; no one has seen him for a week. And he left behind a note for his brother telling him he was going to visit some sect in a forest.’

‘It could be a coincidence,’ Mikkelson said.

Anette could no longer stay silent.

‘Or it might be important,’ she said loudly. ‘If we’re talking about a sect in the forest close to where Johanne was found, it’s definitely worth checking out. After all, there’s a church heavily mixed up in this. We don’t know how, but there is something suspect about them.’

Mikkelson looked at her, weighing up the situation.

‘OK,’ he said at length. ‘But don’t spend too much time on it, Kim. And keep your phone on in case we need you.’

‘OK.’ Kim nodded.

He saluted Mikkelson and left the room. He winked to Anette as he closed the door behind him. She smiled and winked back at him. She liked Kim Kolsø. In fact, she liked everyone in the team. Munch had his weaknesses, definitely, but he knew how to pick the right people. Never before had she worked with such a close-knit and motivated team. Not that they were very motivated right now. Mikkelson suited the managerial chair down at Grønland to a T, but he was not an natural investigator or a team leader. His social skills were poor. His antenna not sensitive enough. The normally inspired team looked like they would rather be anywhere but the incident room. No wonder. They had a million things to do, and the clock was ticking. No one had seen anything suspicious near the flat where Miriam and Marion had been staying. Marion was missing without a trace. Anette thought about Munch. Perhaps he was with Marion now. Alone and without back-up, in mortal danger, but at least he was with her. If that was where he was – surely he had to be? Anette couldn’t imagine anything else.

‘So where are we, as concerns Marion Munch?’ Mikkelson asked, just as Anette’s mobile rang.

Mikkelson looked daggers at her.

‘The duty officer at Grønland,’ Anette said. ‘I have to take it.’

She left the room.

‘Yes? Anette speaking.’

‘Hi, Hilde Myhr, listen, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.’

‘With me personally?’

‘No, just one of you. I have tried Munch and Mia, but there was no reply.’

No reply from Mia? Where could she be?

‘I’m really busy now. It had better be important.’

‘Oh, it’s important all right.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Malin Stoltz.

Anette nearly dropped her mobile.

‘What did you just say?’

‘I have Malin Stoltz here.’

Anette was so flustered that she completely forgot to say anything. She hung up and ran back into the incident room.

‘We have Stoltz,’ she called out.

‘What?’ Mikkelson said. ‘But how?’

‘She’s down at Grønland. Curry, you’re coming with me.’

‘Sure,’ Curry said, grabbing his jacket.

Chapter 77

Holger Munch sat up in bed. He had a pounding headache and his mouth felt parched. Dazed, he looked around. The room was clinical. Institutional. The care home. He was still at Høvikveien Care Home.

What the hell?

He quickly got up, but had to sit down again. He felt that the room was spinning. The window. It was dark outside. Evening. He had slept the whole day. In a bed at Høvikveien Care Home, fully dressed. He rummaged around in his pockets, but he couldn’t find his mobile anywhere. What on earth was going on? Where was Karen? Wasn’t she supposed to wake him? He attempted to stand up once more, and this time he managed it. He stumbled to the door and tried opening it, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked from the outside. He fumbled for the lock on the inside, but there was nothing there. Someone had locked him in. This was insane. Holger Munch could feel his panic rising when he realized what had happened.

Bollocks.

He banged his fists against the door, screaming frantically.

‘Hello?’

His banging became more desperate while he tried to clear his head.

‘Is anyone there?’

He rummaged through his pockets again. Searched his duffel coat and his trousers. Staggered back to the bed and started pulling off the bedlinen. There was no sign of his mobile anywhere.

The door behind him opened and a carer he had never met before popped round her head. She looked at him, startled.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

‘Munch, Oslo Police, Violent Crimes Section,’ Munch said drowsily as he forced his way past her. ‘Have you seen Karen?’

‘Karen?’ the terrified carer said. ‘Her shift has finished. Why?’

‘I need to borrow your phone,’ Munch said, stumbling towards reception.

‘No, wait, you can’t just…’

‘Munch, police, my mother is a resident here,’ Munch mumbled and picked up the handset.

He held it in his hand, still feeling groggy. Bloody modern technology, he didn’t know any telephone numbers by heart these days. He called Directory Enquiries and asked to be put through to Police Headquarters in Grønland. Finally, his call was answered and he asked to be put through to the special unit. Ludvig picked up the phone.

‘Grønlie speaking?’

‘It’s Munch.’

‘Holger, where on earth have you been?’

‘I haven’t got time to explain. Ludvig, is Mia there?’

‘No, she’s gone.’

‘What do you mean, ìgoneî? Where is she?’

‘She’s not here,’ Ludvig said.

‘But what the hell -’ Munch said. ‘Is Gabriel there?’

‘Munch…’ Ludvig began.

‘Put me through to Gabriel. He must be able to trace her mobile. Get me Gabriel.’

‘Munch!’ Ludvig said again.

‘For Christ’s sake, Ludvig, just put me through to Gabriel!’

‘Your granddaughter has gone missing,’ Ludvig said on the other end.

Munch fell completely silent.

‘Marion is gone,’ Ludvig repeated. ‘Someone took her from the flat. But it’s going to be all right, Munch: we have Stoltz. She turned herself in. Did you hear me? We have Malin Stoltz. Anette and Curry are interviewing her as we speak. Everything will be all right.’

Munch slowly woke up. Like a bear from hibernation.

‘It’s not her,’ he growled.

‘What do you mean?’

The whole world was spinning for Munch now.

‘Send a car.’

‘But Munch?’

‘Send me a bloody car!’ he screamed down the phone.

‘But I don’t know where you are!’ Ludvig screamed back at him.

‘Sorry,’ Munch said, realizing he was shaking all over. ‘Høvikveien Care Home. Send a car, Ludvig. I’m not in a fit state to drive. Send a car.’

He put down the handset on the table and staggered out into the evening twilight.

Chapter 78

There was an atmosphere of both tension and relief in the modern interview room in the basement of Police Headquarters in Grønland. They had been looking for her for so long. First, as an invisible face, a serial killer whose identity they didn’t know, then for every woman with different-coloured eyes living in a flat covered with mirrors. And now she was here. Just one metre away. Anette watched her furtively while Curry poured yet another glass of water. Malin Stoltz. Anette didn’t know quite what she had expected, but probably not this. Stoltz was so delicate and frail. Long, black hair covering a pale face. Thin fingers that could barely manage to raise the water glass to her dry lips.

‘Thank you,’ Malin Stoltz said timidly, bowing her head again.

Anette almost felt sorry for her.

‘You have the right to have a lawyer present, do you understand that?’ Curry said, sitting down.

Malin Stoltz nodded faintly.

‘I don’t need one,’ she whispered.

‘It might be a good idea,’ Anette suggested.

Malin Stoltz glanced up at her. One brown and one blue eye, looking like they had lost the will to live.

‘I don’t need one,’ Malin Stoltz repeated, then raked a thin hand through her black hair. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’

‘The suspect has declined her right to legal counsel,’ Curry said into the small microphone on the table.

‘Are you sure?’ Anette said.

Malin Stoltz nodded once more, still very carefully. She was so fragile. Anette feared that she would break if she spoke too loud or even just snapped her fingers.

‘I’ll tell you everything I know,’ Stoltz continued. ‘But I want you to call someone.’

‘And who would that be?’ Curry said brusquely.

Anette signalled for him to back off. There was no cause for aggression. Malin Stoltz was already broken.

‘I’m ill,’ Malin said. ‘I have a disease. I want you to call my doctor, please?’

Malin looked at her again, this time with a pleading expression.

‘Of course,’ Anette nodded. ‘What is the number?’

‘I know it by heart,’ Malin said.

Curry pushed a notepad and pen across the table. His mobile beeped. He checked the message while Malin wrote down the number. He raised his eyebrows and slid his mobile across to Anette. It was from Ludvig.

Munch is on his way.

Anette smiled and pushed the phone back. Munch was back. At last. Anette took the notepad from Malin Stoltz and passed it to Curry.

‘Please would you make the call?’

Curry nodded and left the room.

‘Would you like some more water?’ Anette asked her when they were alone.

‘No, thank you,’ Stoltz whispered, hanging her head again.

‘What is wrong with you?’

‘The doctors can’t work it out,’ Malin said. ‘But it’s in my head. My mind is not sound. Sometimes I don’t know who I am. But they can’t work out what it is.’

‘Where is Marion Munch?’ Anette asked her.

‘Who?’

Malin Stoltz looked perplexed.

‘Marion Munch. You took her from the flat, didn’t you? Where are you keeping her?’

‘Who?’ Stoltz said again.

She seemed genuinely mystifed now.

‘You know why you’re here, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Malin nodded.

‘And why are you here?’

‘We conned the old people,’ Malin said in a weak voice.

This time it was Anette’s turn to look astounded.

‘What do you mean?’

Malin looked up at her.

‘We conned the old people. We didn’t mean to. That was just how it ended up. Karen and I. We needed the money. I was going to adopt a child. It’s difficult when you’re single and you’re not in good health. Do you know how difficult and expensive it is to adopt a child?’

Anette had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

‘Are you ill at this moment, Malin?’

‘What? Am I?’

Malin Stoltz sat up with a jolt and looked around.

‘Right now are you Malin, or someone else?’

‘My name is not Malin,’ Stoltz said.

‘Then what is your name?’

‘My name is Maiken Storberget,’ Malin Stoltz said.

‘So why do you call yourself Malin?’

‘It was Karen’s idea,’ the skinny woman said.

Maiken Storberget. Anette was really confused now, but she didn’t let the other woman see it.

Curry returned to the interview room.

‘Right, I ‘ve had a chat to your doctor. He asked me to give you his best and tell you that she’s on her way.’

He had completely turned off his aggression. And there was no need for it, anyway. As she sat in front of them, Anette began to wonder if Malin Stoltz really was the woman they were looking for. She would have to be a very good liar. Which was a possibility. She had told them she had a mental illness. That she was not always herself. But Anette had met her fair share of liars throughout the years and, if Malin Stoltz was one of them, she was extremely good. Anette switched off the recorder and excused herself. She pulled Curry out into the corridor, leaving Malin Stoltz alone in the interview room.

‘What did the doctor say?’

‘Malin is telling the truth,’ Curry replied. ‘She has been in and out of institutions since she was a kid. If the man I spoke to really was a doctor, then this case is so strange that I don’t know what to believe any more.’

‘Did he tell you what she suffers from?’

‘No, Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that, but he was happy to confirm that she’s off her trolley.’

‘Curry…’

‘Mentally ill – dammit, Anette, that woman has killed four children and I have to watch my tongue?’

‘Make sure he is a real doctor and get someone to run a check on Maiken Storberget.’

‘Who’s she?’

Anette nodded in the direction of the room.

‘Stoltz?’

‘So she says. Please?’

‘Sure,’ Curry said.

Anette returned to the interview room and restarted the recorder.

‘Friday, 4 May 2012, the time is 22.40, present is Police Prosecutor Anette Goli, who is interviewing Malin Stoltz.’

‘Maiken Storberget,’ Stoltz said, but suddenly she didn’t seem quite so sure.

‘What would you like me to call you?’ Anette asked her kindly.

‘Maiken, I think,’ Malin said.

‘Right, Maiken it is. Would you like some more water, Maiken?’

‘No, thank you, this is fine.’

‘Do you know why you’re here, Maiken?’

‘Yes, because Karen and I tricked the old people. I’m so sorry.’

‘That’s not why you are here, Maiken.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Maiken Storberget, formerly known as Malin Stoltz, gave her an odd look.

‘Are you quite sure that you don’t want a lawyer present?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. So why am I here?’

‘You’re suspected of the murder of four girls aged six and the abduction of six-year-old Marion Munch.’

‘Oh… no, no, no, no.’

‘You need to sit down, Maiken.’

‘Oh no, no… no, no, I’m telling you, no, I haven’t got anything to do with that. Oh no. No, no, no.’

Anette already regretted agreeing to taking off her handcuffs. Maiken Storberget looked as if she was about to harm herself.

‘Please sit down, Maiken.’

‘I’ve got nothing to do with that.’

‘Please sit down, Maiken.’

‘That business, oh, no, no, no. I didn’t do it, I’m telling you.’

‘If you promise me that you’ll sit down, then I’ll listen to you, how about that?’ Anette said in her nicest voice, her finger edging nearer the button under the table. She was reluctant to summon uniformed officers; that would be only a last resort.

Maiken Storberget looked at Anette momentarily before deciding to sit down.

‘Maiken?’

‘Yes?’

‘Let’s forget what I said, shall we?’

‘OK,’ Maiken said quizzically, and wiped away a tear.

‘What were you just telling me about?’

‘The old people?’ Maiken nodded, sitting up in the chair.

‘Which old people?’

‘Old people in care,’ Maiken said quietly. ‘I met Karen in Hønefoss. At a group for people who can’t have children. We became friends. It was her idea; she said she knew someone.’

‘Who?’

‘A priest. Well, he wasn’t a priest to begin with – I think he sold cars – but he became a priest and took money from people who were going to die.’

‘Their inheritance?’

Mia had briefed the team about the church that had been trying to con Munch’s mother out of her money.

Maiken Storberget nodded.

‘We got paid for every name we supplied them with, people who were…’

‘People who were?’

Maiken hesitated.

‘Well, you know, old, whom we might persuade to believe in God.’

She was clearly ashamed now. She wrung her thin hands in her lap.

‘And for how long did this continue?’

‘Oh, a long time. A long time. We conned a lot of people.’

The door opened and Curry entered the room. Anette spoke into the microphone.

‘The time is 22.57. Investigator Jon Larsen has just entered the room. The interview with Malin Stoltz, Maiken Storberget, continues.’

She looked up at Curry, who nodded.

‘It’s all true,’ he said.

‘So who is Karen?’ Anette said.

‘Don’t you know Karen?’ Maiken said.

‘Who is Karen?’ Curry said.

‘No, we don’t know Karen,’ Anette said.

‘I know Karen,’ said Munch, who had suddenly appeared in the room.

Anette hadn’t even heard the door open.

‘The time is 22.59. The head of the special unit, Holger Munch, has just entered the interview room,’ Anette said into the microphone.

‘Where’s Karen?’ Munch said, taking a seat at the head of the table.

Maiken Storberget looked embarrassed at Munch’s arrival. They recognized one another. And Maiken had been part of the attempt to trick the Munch family out of their inheritance.

‘I’m sorry, Holger,’ Maiken mumbled, and looked at her lap. ‘I just wanted a baby. Why can’t I have a baby when everybody else can?’

‘It’s quite all right, Malin,’ Munch said calmly, placing his hand on her shoulder. ‘I just want to know where Karen is.’

‘Maiken,’ Anette corrected him.

‘Eh?’ Munch said, turning to her.

Anette had seen her boss exhausted before, but never like this. He could barely lift his head. If she hadn’t known he never touched alcohol, she would have sworn that he had been drinking.

‘Maiken Storberget,’ Curry said, nodding to Munch to reassure him.

‘Maiken? OK, Maiken,’ Munch said. ‘Where is Karen?’

‘Oh no, no,’ Maiken said, rocking back and forth on her chair.

‘Munch?’ Anette said, but he took no notice of her.

‘I need to know where Karen is, do you understand? I have to know where she is, now!’

Munch leaned forwards and grabbed the skinny woman’s shoulders. Maiken Storberget reacted intuitively and covered her face with her hands.

‘No, no, no.’

‘Munch,’ Anette warned him.

‘Where is Karen?’ Munch shouted, shaking the frail woman.

‘Munch!’ Anette screamed.

‘Where is Karen!!’

Munch was shaking her violently now. Anette was about to get up, but Curry beat her to it. The stocky police officer put his strong arms around Munch and guided him out of the interview room.

‘Are you all right, Maiken,’ Anette said when they were alone once more.

The emaciated woman looked up at her with terrified eyes and nodded softly.

‘I just need a word with the other two, and then I’ll be back, OK?’

Maiken Storberget nodded again.

‘And, listen.’

Maiken looked up at her.

‘Yes?’

‘It will be all right. I believe you.’

Maiken wiped away a tear and nodded feebly.

‘Thank you so much.’

Anette smiled, placed her hand on her shoulder and left the room.

‘What do you think you’re doing, Munch?’

Outside in the corridor, Curry still had Munch in a tight hold.

‘Sorry,’ Munch babbled. ‘She has Marion. Karen. She has my granddaughter. She has Marion.’

‘Calm down,’ Curry said.

‘Find a cell for Maiken,’ Anette said calmly. ‘I’ll deal with Holger.’

Curry nodded reluctantly and released his hold on the light brown duffel coat. He returned to the interview room and left the two of them alone in the corridor.

‘Are you OK, Holger?’ Anette said, putting her hand on her boss’s shoulder.

‘She has my granddaughter,’ Munch said again.

‘Who is Karen?’ Anette said, still calm.

‘She works at the care home,’ Munch groaned. ‘She has my granddaughter, Anette. My granddaughter.’

‘We’ll find her,’ Anette said, as her mobile rang.

‘Anette speaking.’

‘Get me Holger,’ said a breathless Gabriel Mørk.

She handed the mobile to Munch.

‘Yes?’

Munch got a short message and ended the call almost immediately.

‘The Kiese film. We have the GPS coordinates. Take Curry with you, OK?’

Munch ran down the corridor without waiting for an answer.

Chapter 79

Mia Krüger awoke to the sound of what she presumed must be seagulls. She was back on her island. In the house she had bought to be alone. To get away from people. To get away from herself. She had self-medicated almost to death. The sea. The air. The birds. The calm. She was going to join Sigrid. It was too hard to be alone. When your whole family is gone. Dead. It was too hard not to have someone who understands. Sigrid had always understood. Lovely, beautiful, adorable Sigrid. Mia had never needed to say anything. I understand, Mia. Without even opening her mouth. Her lovely, warm eyes behind the blonde hair.

Now she was alone. No comfort. No peace. Just this house and the seagulls. Tough, intelligent, one-in-a-million Mia Krüger, Mia Moonbeam, the Native American with the sparkling blue eyes, one of Norway’s best murder detectives. Reduced to an exhausted eccentric on a remote island.

Mia’s mouth felt dry. She tried to open her eyes, but it was heavy going. A slow-motion transition from dream to reality with music in the background. A radio. Then the music stopped. She tried to open her eyes again, but her eyelids were stuck, and it wasn’t just her eyelids, it was all of her; she couldn’t move. Mia slipped quietly back into her dream Ö the coffee was brewing, the sound of the steamer in her kitchen on Hitra.

‘Hello, Mia?’

Mia Krüger opened here eyes to find Karen Nylund standing in front of her. The strawberry-blonde woman smiled and held up a bottle of water.

‘Would you like something to drink? I imagine you must be terribly thirsty?’

Mia suddenly remembered what had happened. Her body jerked automatically, trying to free itself. Something was covering her mouth. Her hands were taped to a chair. Her legs. Her legs as well. Taped down. The movements were instinctive: they came from her body, not from her brain, muscular panic; but it was futile. All she could move was her head.

‘You’re very sweet, you really are,’ Karen laughed, waving the water bottle in front of her. ‘Do you intend to go on like that? It’s fun to watch, so don’t let me stop you.’

Mia could feel that she was panicking but managed to calm herself down, push the panic aside. She breathed deeply into her diaphragm and looked around. Her police gaze. She was in a small house. A cabin. No, a house. The windowsills were white. The countryside. She was in the country. There was film of some kind on the windowpanes. You could look out, but no one could look in. Warmth and crackling behind her. An oven, no, an open fireplace. A sofa. A chair. 1960s. A rug on the floor. Multi-coloured. A door to the left. An old fridge. The kitchen. Another door. Ajar. A passage. A pair of muddy boots. A sweater. A raincoat.

‘Yes, it’s nice here, isn’t it,’ Karen said, putting the bottle on the floor. ‘Would you like me to show and tell?’

Mia tried to say something but managed only gurgling in her throat. The tape was covering her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, pressed it between her lips and felt the taste of glue.

‘If you want something to drink, then you mustn’t shout,’ Karen said. ‘We’re a long way from other people, so they can’t help you, but I don’t want you waking the child.’

There was a television screen in front of her. No, it wasn’t a television, it was a monitor connected to a computer. A keyboard. A mouse.

Karen turned on the screen.

‘Look, she’s asleep. We must be quiet. Shhh.’

Karen Nylund smiled and pressed her finger against her lips. The screen slowly came on, displaying an image of a sleeping girl. Marion. In a white room somewhere. The angle was bird’s-eye perspective, a web camera mounted in a corner.

‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Karen smiled.

She sat down by the table, softly caressing the screen. ‘We mustn’t wake the sleeping child.’

Karen took a step forwards and swiftly tore the tape off her face. Mia gasped for breath and coughed. She felt nauseous. The injection to her neck. She thought she was going to throw up.

‘There, have some water,’ Karen said, putting the bottle to her lips.

Mia gulped down as much as she could manage. The rest trickled down her chin and on to her jumper, into her lap and her thighs.

‘Good girl,’ Karen said, wiping her chin and the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Have you hurt her?’ Mia spluttered.

Her voice sounded strange and rusty.

‘Is that what you think?’ Karen smiled. ‘Of course I haven’t hurt her. I’m going to kill her, that’s true, but how can that hurt her?’

‘You bitch,’ Mia hissed, and spat at her.

Karen jumped aside and just avoided being hit.

‘Tut-tut, Mia! Do you want me to put the tape back, or will we try to behave?’

Mia could feel the rage surge violently inside her, but at the last second she managed to control herself.

‘I’ll be good,’ she said quietly. ‘Sorry.’

‘There, there, that’s better.’ Karen smiled, sitting down again.

‘Why me?’ Mia said.

‘Wow, straight to the point, is that how it’s going to be? Isn’t that a bit dull?’ Karen laughed. ‘Why don’t we play a little game first? I like games. Games are fun, don’t you think? Don’t you like playing games, Mia? Mia Moonbeam, what a lovely name. A little Native American girl who has been captured. How appropriate, wouldn’t you say?’

Mia said nothing. She closed her eyes and let her head slump towards her chest. Karen rose and came over to her.

‘Mia? Mia? Now, don’t you fall asleep, Mia, we’re going to play a game.’

Mia opened her eyes again and spat right into Karen’s face.

The strawberry-blonde woman was unprepared and her personality changed in a fraction of a second. Her smile was gone. Her eyes were flashing.

‘You fucking cunt.’

Karen Nylund raised her hand and slapped Mia across the face. The blow was hard. Mia’s head was flung backwards, she blacked out for a second and her eyes closed.

When she opened them again, the grotesque smile was back in place.

‘Would you like some cake?’ Karen smiled, tilting her head. ‘I baked it especially for you.’

‘Who the hell are you, really?’

‘Now, no swearing,’ Karen said. ‘It’s not necessary. That’s a rule. Agreed? That’s the rule of the game.’

Mia regained her composure and nodded. She glanced around a second time. The police gaze. She was trapped here. She was far away from other people. She was restrained. She would have to talk her way out. It was her only hope. Play along.

‘That’s a good rule,’ Mia said quietly, attempting a smile.

‘Excellent,’ Karen said, clapping her hands. ‘Who will begin? Why don’t I start?’

Mia nodded.

‘I grew up in this house,’ Karen said. ‘There was me, my mother, my sister and he who must not be mentioned.’

‘Your father?’ Mia said.

‘We don’t say his name.’ Karen smiled, sitting down by the table again. ‘Your turn?’

‘I grew up in Åsgårdstrand,’ Mia said. ‘With my sister and my parents. We lived in a white house, not far from Edvard Munch’s house. My grandmother lived close by.’

‘Boring,’ Karen smiled. ‘Party pooper. We already know that. Tell us something new, something we don’t know. Why don’t I say something?’

Mia nodded again.

‘My mother worked at Hamar Hospital. I came with her to work. She showed me everything. She had the softest hair in the world. I got to brush it. My sister was far too young, she only got to watch. One day she didn’t come home from work. Everyone knew what had happened, but the police did nothing. Isn’t that strange? That we live in a country where the police don’t care?’

Karen smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. She glanced up at the ceiling; it looked as if she was contemplating something.

Hamar Hospital. Mia guessed they must be near Hamar. Karen Nylund’s father had murdered her mother. The police had done nothing. That explained her hatred of the police.

‘Am I allowed to ask questions?’ Mia said.

‘Everything is allowed,’ Karen laughed. ‘Everything is allowed in this game!’

‘Except swearing,’ Mia said, forcing out another smile; she hoped it looked genuine.

‘That’s right.’ Karen giggled. ‘We don’t like that.’

‘What did you call her?’ Mia said.

‘Who?’

‘The baby from the maternity ward.’

Karen had stopped smiling.

‘Margrete,’ she said.

‘Beautiful name,’ Mia said.

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, very beautiful. Was that her room?’

She nodded in the direction of the monitor.

‘Yes,’ Karen said forlornly. ‘Or no, it wasn’t as nice as that. That was where it was, but I had a new one built. The old one became so sad.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘Oh no, my turn, my turn.’

Mia took her eyes off the screen. She couldn’t bear to watch it. Marion was lying on the bed, wearing a white doll’s dress with lace.

‘He bled to death inside.’ Karen smiled.

‘Who?’

‘The one we never mention. I put rat poison in his food. After the police said that my mum had run away I had to cook for all three of us. It was fun watching him die. We watched him, my sister and I. He bled from his mouth, from everywhere. It was really good to watch. A red-letter day, you could say. Almost like Christmas.’

‘Where did you bury him?’ Mia said, trying her hardest not to look at the screen.

Focus, now, Mia, focus.

‘Right behind the outdoors lavatory.’ Karen smiled again. ‘Stinky, stinky, filthy, filthy, filthy. Very apt. Are you sure you don’t want some cake?’

‘Maybe later.’ Mia smiled.

‘It’s very good.’ Karen nodded and disappeared inside her own head for a moment.

‘Malin Stoltz.’

‘Oh, you mean Maiken?’

‘Two different-coloured eyes? Malin?’

‘Maiken.’ Karen nodded. ‘Poor Maiken. She’s as mad as a hatter, did you know? But together we made loads of money.’

Slowly, it began to dawn on Mia how everything was connected.

‘Through the church?’

Karen Nylund smiled and clapped her hands again.

‘Well done, Mia. Clever girl. You’ve no idea how easy it is to make old ladies give all their money to Jesus when they think they’re about to die.’

She laughed briefly.

‘The church got sixty per cent, we got forty. A fair deal, in my opinion. That’s a lot of money, Mia. Do you know how much money that is?’

‘No,’ Mia said.

‘It’s a lot.’ Karen winked at her. ‘Let’s put it this way, this is not my real home.’

‘But she didn’t know anything about Margrete or the other girls?’

‘Oh no.’ Karen laughed. ‘Maiken is proper crazy, no doubt about it, but much too soft for anything like that. That stupid friend of hers, Roger Bakken, at least I could use him for something. He could never make up his mind whether he was a man or a woman – a bit bizarre, really, people like that are always weak, easy to manipulate.’

‘Wow, that’s quite a scam,’ Mia said. ‘Working with the church. Clever, really – everyone’s a winner.’

‘Yes, they are, aren’t they?’ Karen said proudly.

‘So what happened to her?’ Mia continued.

‘Who?’

‘Margrete. The baby?’

Karen fell silent for a moment before she replied.

‘I was hit by a car. I broke my foot and both arms,’ she said, pressing her lips together. ‘I was admitted to hospital.’

‘For a long time?’

Karen nodded silently.

‘I can’t blame them either,’ she said, putting on her smile again. ‘The old people, I mean. Giving away their money. They lie there all alone. Their body is packing up. They look back on their lives and they have regrets. Oh, they have so many regrets, Mia. I have seen them. Heard them talk. About all the things they wish they had done differently. Worried less about other people. Put themselves first. Travelled more, had more fun, explored the world. They’re all terrified. They have fear in their eyes – it’s extreme, Mia, you should have seen some of them. They realize that they have made mistakes. They panic. They hope for another go. They want to buy their way to a second chance. I can’t blame them, really. How does it feel to be about to die, Mia?’

‘Are you going to kill me?’ Mia said.

Karen looked at her strangely.

‘Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?’

‘Why me?’

‘Have you really not worked that out? And here was I thinking you were so clever.’

‘No, I haven’t worked it out,’ Mia said quietly.

‘No, you haven’t, because I’m smarter than you.’

Karen smiled triumphantly and clapped her hands again in a childish fashion.

‘I killed a dog, did you know? So that the girls would have someone to play with. Wasn’t that nice?’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Mia mumbled.

‘That’s because you’re stupid.’ Karen Nylund smiled.

‘Yes, you’re smarter than me.’

‘That’s right, I am.’

‘So why are you going to kill me?’

‘Do you not know? Do you really not know?’ The woman with the strawberry-blonde hair smiled.

‘No.’

‘Do you want me to tell you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you killed my sister,’ Karen said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Chapter 80

The first time Liv-Hege Nylund sniffed glue was in a back alley in Hamar when she was thirteen years old. She had dropped out of school ages ago: she hadn’t liked it there, studying wasn’t for her she hadn’t liked the people either; and, anyway, no one cared about where she was. Her sister, Karen, used to care; she was ten years older than Liv-Hege and had always looked after her while they were growing up in Tangen, in a small house far away from other people. Their father had been a bully. Physical and psychological abuse had characterized life for the two sisters and their mother, who had finally vanished from the surface of the earth. Young Liv-Hege had witnessed things her mind and her body could not process. The cloth with the glue had offered her a much-needed break from reality. While Karen had been around, life had been easier. Going to school. Looking after herself. Believing she was going to be all right. But once their parents were gone, Karen had grown so strange, and her personality changed. She lost her temper at the slightest provocation. Without warning, she would laugh out loud at things that weren’t funny. Liv-Hege remembered a bird that had crashed into the living-room window. She had picked up the bird, brought it inside and tried to keep it alive in a small cardboard box lined with cotton wool. One day after the school bus had dropped her off she had come back to discover Karen in the kitchen; she had a saucepan of water on the stove and was watching the screaming little bird being boiled alive. She had turned to Liv-Hege with huge grin on her face. As if she enjoyed watching the bird die. Their mother had worked at Hamar Hospital and Karen had been allowed to come with her to work. What their mother hadn’t known, was that Karen had stolen medication. She had shown Liv-Hege a box in the attic once when they were home alone: syringes and vials and jars of pills with all sorts of strange names. Liv-Hege didn’t know what her sister intended to use it all for, but it was most likely to kill someone. Karen enjoyed killing.

Liv-Hege, however, wanted only to forget. The glue-soaked cloth was merely the start of the journey, which had only one destination. To begin with, Liv-Hege had hitchhiked from Tangen into Hamar, but that soon stopped and she no longer went home. She and her mates would sniff glue at Domkirkeodden and sleep rough under the bushes. They took poppers and heart medication and slept on benches and in stairwells. They stole food and spent most of their time trying to get high. The more often Liv-Hege got high, the harder it was to stay clean. During the first few years she had been clean for days at a time, sometimes even weeks, but now being high was a constant. A destructive, downward spiral she could not escape. Liv-Hege was traumatized by her childhood experiences, suffered from chronic anxiety and had no hope of ever seeing reality as other people did. No expectations of a good life. A safe life. A house. A job. A family. Children. Holidays. Not a chance. Soon, Liv-Hege had only one goal. The next fix. And the fix after that, and then the next one. She had boyfriends, but they weren’t important. A guy who offered her a bed and some weed. Another one who let her shower and gave her alcohol.

But then she met Markus Skog. Liv-Hege had fallen asleep in someone’s car and woken up in Oslo. Her mate was picking up a packet of something. Speed. Whatever. And there he was, in a flat in Grønland. Liv-Hege had fallen head over heels in love, and they became an item. Markus Skog had introduced her to heroin, so now she had two loves. Heroin was the perfect drug for her. Much better than glue, with all its waste products and impurities. Glue made her zone out, true, but also sick and nauseous most of the time. Heroin was completely different. Markus Skog had injected her for the first time on a summer’s day down by the River Aker, and Liv-Hege had barely believed such bliss was possible. It was as if her body had been in tension her whole life and, finally, it could relax. All the sharp barbs and her piercing misery turned into a huge smile. One big, beaming, lovely smile with pink clouds of eternal beauty. People were good. The world was fantastic. For ever. Since that day, they had never been apart. A perfect, heavenly triangle. Markus, her and heroin. They had moved about, living here, there and everywhere. Markus knew a lot of people. And when Markus started dealing, they got to know even more. Dealers were the celebrities of the underworld, always surrounded by an entourage of famous and obscure faces, and even though he had only been a street dealer, they had done well. One autumn they had lived in a campervan up at Tryvann. The party atmosphere had been pretty good – a lot of cocaine and speed, but not enough heroin; Liv-Hege had missed it. It would be good to get some. Getting properly high again. Fortunately, the party crew withdrew to the city centre over time. And then there were just the three of them left in the campervan. Markus, her and the lovely liquid gold which would soon be going into her veins.

‘Please can you hook me up?’

Liv-Hege looked beseechingly at Markus Skog, who was pacing up and down inside the campervan.

He had just snorted two lines of speed and cocaine mixed together and was quite manic. He was talking to himself constantly, and his eyes were the size of saucers.

‘Markus?’ she pleaded with him again. ‘Hook me up, will you?’

Liv-Hege pulled up the sleeve of her jumper and rested her arm on the small grey plastic table.

‘Dammit, Liv-Hege, do it yourself. Why do I have to do everything for you?’ Markus Skog grunted as he cut more lines on the table.

‘But I like it when you do it,’ Live-Hege said. ‘Please?’

‘You’re real nag, did you know that? I don’t know why I put up with your bony arse. Tell me, Liv-Hege, why do I? It’s not as if you contribute anything, is it?’

Liv-Hege stared shamefully at the floor and tightened the rubber tube around her arm herself. Markus bent down and snorted both lines, one in each nostril.

‘Ah, here we go, that’s it. That’s right, now we’re going places.’

He laughed out loud to himself and slammed his fist into the wall. Liv-Hege jolted, almost missing the vein with the needle, but she got it in at last. The warmth started flooding through her body. Finally. Pink clouds. Endless beaches.

She had just dropped the needle on to the floor when there was a knock on the door of the campervan.

‘Hello?’

A woman’s voice.

‘What the hell?’ Markus said.

He tried looking through the curtain, but had forgotten that they had cardboard for windows and that he couldn’t see out of the filthy campervan.

‘Police.’

A male voice this time.

‘Shit,’ Markus said, starting to clear the table of drugs. ‘Liv-Hege? Help me, will you?!’

But Liv-Hege saw no reason to do anything at all. She had a big smile on her face and was heading for a place where all was well. Just exactly how it happened, Live-Hege couldn’t remember, but suddenly a female police officer was inside the campervan.

‘Mia Krüger, Violent Crimes Section. We’re looking for this girl. Have you seen her?’

‘Ah, that’s Pia.’ Liv-Hege smiled when she saw the picture.

‘Shut your mouth,’ Markus yelled at her.

‘But it is Pia, isn’t it, Markus? Can’t you see?’

‘I said shut your mouth,’ Markus Skog screamed again.

‘Markus?’ the policewoman suddenly said. ‘Markus Skog?’

‘What’s going on, Mia?’

It was the male police officer outside.

‘Mia Krüger, now who would have thought it?’ Markus grinned. ‘It’s been a long time.’

The police officer called Mia looked as if she had seen a ghost.

‘How’s your sister?’ Markus laughed. The two last lines had kicked in now; his mouth was one big, gaping hole of teeth and laughter.

‘Oh no, that’s right, she kicked the bucket, yeah? Yes, she did, couldn’t handle the pressure, ha-ha. I’ve seen it happen so many times, good girls from nice families. Can’t take the heat, they’ve had it too easy.’

Liv-Hege hadn’t seen the police officer pull out a gun, but it was there now, in the small, dirty campervan. Liv-Hege herself had mentally left the campervan. She was sitting on a mountaintop, watching from a distance. It was nice and warm. The wind was blowing briskly through her hair.

In the room far away, the one she had left, Markus had picked up a syringe on the table. He was frothing around the mouth now. He waved the syringe at the police officer and laughed maniacally.

‘Want to try it, Mia? Eh, are you sure you don’t want a taste? Your sister couldn’t get enough of it. Spineless cunt, poor little Sigrid, ha-ha.’

From the lovely mountaintop where she was sitting, Liv-Hege had a clear view of what happened next. It was almost like being in the cinema. Markus hawked up a gob and spat at the policewoman while at the same time trying to stab her with the syringe. The policewoman jumped back and a bang sounded. The mountaintop turned into a volcano now; there was rumbling underneath her. The policewoman fired her weapon twice. Markus Skog was flung back across the room and lay bleeding on the floor.

Liv-Hege Nylund woke up two weeks later and found herself suffering serious withdrawal symptoms in a room she didn’t recognize. Karen was sitting next to her, and for a whole week she never left her side. They had strapped Liv-Hege to the bed and she had never experienced anything so horrendous. She was in hell. It was as if every cell in her body was wide awake and screaming in hell. A billion hangovers at the same time; she howled as if the devil himself had taken residence in her; she lay strapped to the bed in the white room until the drug had left her system. All the time with Karen by her side. Her sister had watched her, fed her, held her hand, calmed her down. She had been gone, but now she was back.

Finally, she was allowed out of bed. She could to go to the lavatory on her own, eat her own food at the table. Karen never left her alone. Then she was allowed out into the garden. To sit on the grass. Gaze at the sun. Look at the trees. Karen was smiling now; she hadn’t seen Karen smile during the whole of her detox, but now her sister was happy.

What Karen Nylund didn’t know was that Liv-Hege had no intention of staying alive. She had lost everything. Her two loves. Markus Skog and heroin. What could this world offer her? Nothing.

One week later, the first time she was allowed out for a walk on her own, she climbed a spruce in the forest as high as she could, tied a rope around her neck.

And jumped into freedom.

Chapter 81

‘I’m so sorry,’ Mia said.

‘Oh, it’s fine. You killed her. And now you’re going to die. It all fits together rather neatly, don’t you think?’

Karen smiled and patted Mia’s hand. She went back to the kitchen and returned with a slice of chocolate cake.

‘Would you like some cake, Mia?’

Mia shook her head.

‘But you have to eat something. It’s really good, I promise. It’s my mother’s recipe.’

Mia glanced sideways at the screen on the table. Marion Munch was lying immobile on the bed in the basement room. Mia saw her stir. Thank God. The little girl was merely asleep. Karen Nylund smiled and ran two fingers across the screen.

‘I look forward to getting her ready. It’s important that children are clean, don’t you think?’

Karen smiled at her. Mia started to feel scared. She had been relatively calm so far, but her terror was taking control of her now. She felt she was in the presence of evil. She had never seen eyes like that before. It was as if the woman in front of her was fully aware of what she was saying and doing and yet was completely devoid of empathy and normal, human emotions.

‘Do you want to know what happens next? Shall we play that game?’ Karen smiled and got up.

‘Can’t we play another game?’ Mia said.

She had to play for time now. For her own sake, but mostly for Marion’s. Her body was aching. She thought about Munch. How he would react if Marion was killed. She couldn’t bear to think of it. It was too unreal.

‘So what do you want to play, then?’ Karen smiled again.

‘Anything,’ Mia said, attempting a smile as well. ‘Perhaps we could talk about Margrete?’

Karen grew more serious now. She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. Mia Krüger tried desperately to read what was going on inside her mind, how this woman was thinking, to find a weakness, but it was impossible to penetrate.

‘Margrete is fine,’ Karen chirped, smiling again now. ‘She goes to school in heaven and has four classmates; soon, she will have five and a teacher.’

‘Classmates?’ Mia said, baffled.

‘Oh yes, they’re about to start school. Haven’t you worked that out?’

Finally, the pieces came together in Mia’s head. ‘I’m travelling alone.’ The satchels. The schoolbooks. The skipping rope. Karen Nylund had some twisted notion of creating a class in heaven where she would be the teacher. That had to be the logic inside the mind of this psychopath. Mia felt a pang of guilt. Why hadn’t she worked this out sooner? If she had, then Marion might not be lying prisoner in a small room in the basement in this house of horrors in the country.

‘She also has a dog,’ Karen continued. ‘A lovely little Alsatian puppy. She loves playing with the puppy. Look how happy she is, Mia, look.’

Karen pointed towards the ceiling and remained standing with a sheepish grin on her face.

‘Mummy is coming soon, Margrete. Not long now.’

Karen winked and blew a kiss towards the sky.

‘Why ten dresses and only five girls?’ Mia tried.

‘What?’ Karen said.

‘You ordered ten dresses, but you’ve only taken five girls?’

‘No girl should have just the one dress, don’t you think? Did you have just the one dress, Mia? Back home in Åsgårdstrand? When you played with little Sigrid?’

Mia bit her lip when she heard Sigrid’s name. She felt the rage tear at her body again, but she managed not to lose her temper.

‘So you’ll stop at five?’ She smiled.

‘Yes.’ Karen nodded pensively as if she was considering whether she should have added more. ‘Best really, small class sizes, so everyone gets a chance to be seen and heard. It’s important, don’t you think, that everyone is seen and heard? Perhaps I should have gone for ten – what do you think? Is five enough?’

‘Oh, absolutely.’ Mia nodded. ‘You’ve done well. I think you’ve done very well.’

‘Do you really?’ Karen frowned.

‘Oh yes, definitely,’ Mia continued. ‘It’s a good idea and a fine plan. Margrete couldn’t go to school alone. I mean, seriously?’

‘Exactly,’ Karen said, sitting down at the table again. ‘It was the least I could do, really.’

‘It was well thought out,’ Mia continued. ‘And incredibly well executed. I mean, we were clueless. You tricked us properly, you’re seriously clever.’

‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ Karen smiled and clapped her hands.

‘You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.’ Mia nodded.

‘I’ve been planning it for such looong time,’ Karen said. ‘Every detail. But in the end it turned out to be so easy, and that’s the worst bit – it was so easy, so easy, you were barking up the wrong tree; it has been a really fun game, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, really fun.’ Mia smiled.

‘And now it’s nearly over. That will be nice.’ Karen sighed. ‘All that needs to happen is that we all die, then we’ll be done.’

‘Yes, that will be good.’ Mia smiled while her thoughts raced around inside her head. ‘Did you say now, Karen? Right now? Who is going to die now?’

‘You first,’ Karen said. ‘Then Marion. No, wait. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

‘Oh?’ Mia said. ‘I thought you said you had a plan. That’s unlike you.’

‘I know.’ Karen chuckled. ‘But I can’t decide everything, some things depend a little on chance.’

‘Do they? Please tell?’

‘I had a guy who helped me,’ Karen said, sitting down again. ‘Men are idiots, but you know that, don’t you?’

‘Complete idiots.’ Mia smiled.

‘Yes, they are, aren’t they, quite incredibly dense. But this one, he really took the biscuit. He was stupid, very stupid, do you know what I mean?’ Karen laughed.

‘And who was he?’

‘Oh, just some guy, what was his name again, oh yes, William, that was it. He was married, but he fancied me – they do, you know, men are disgusting. He helped rebuild the room. I didn’t want the old room. I wanted a new one.’

‘Because Margrete had lived there?’

‘Yes, it wasn’t nice any more.’

‘I understand.’

‘So he helped rebuild it, and then I thought of something funny.’

‘What?’

Karen could barely contain herself now. She snorted and giggled like a little schoolgirl.

‘We made a film,’ she tittered.

‘A film?’

‘Yes, with his mobile. I laughed so hard afterwards.’

The Kiese film. It was a hoax.

Mia tried to keep a straight face.

‘What kind of film was it?’

‘He pretended to be really terrified.’ Karen laughed. ‘And he gave the wrong coordinates about his location. You know, GPS, the kind of thing they have in cars?’

‘Yes?’

‘He gave the wrong coordinates. Isn’t that funny?’

‘Hilarious,’ Mia said, not quite managing to smile any more. ‘And what coordinates did you give?’ she cleared her throat.

‘Well, that’s the best bit,’ Karen giggled. ‘The coordinates for a house further down the road. Isn’t that brilliant? You did get the film, didn’t you?’

Karen moved very close to her. The unstable woman stroked her face with a cold hand.

‘Don’t think for a moment that you’re pulling the wool over my eyes, Mia. Acting as if we’re friends? Do you think I’m stupid, Mia?’

Mia felt the cold fingers on her eyes and lips.

‘You did get the film, didn’t you? From his wife?’

Mia nodded feebly.

‘I’m not stupid. You know that, Mia. You won’t outwit me. Telling me what you think I want to hear. Why did it take so long for that movie to reach you? To be honest, I thought you would have got it a long time ago.’

Mia felt sick. Karen ran her icy fingers across her face as if she were a blind person trying to imagine what she looked like.

‘What happened, Mia?’

Mia was really struggling to stay calm. She was sorely tempted to bite the sick woman’s finger, but she refrained.

‘The wife couldn’t be bothered to hand in the film. She only showed up a couple of days ago,’ Mia said calmly.

‘Aha.’ Karen smiled. ‘She didn’t like him very much, did she?’

Mia made no reply.

‘I can see her point.’ The strawberry-blonde woman laughed. ‘He was so thick. But you have it now?’

Mia nodded tentatively.

‘Good. Then all we need to do is wait for it to go bang.’

Karen smiled and sat down at the table again.

‘So the house isn’t far from where we are?’ Mia said.

‘Yes, isn’t it brilliant? We’ll hear it go bang and perhaps we get to see something as well? If we have time.’

Karen got up and disappeared from view. Mia could feel the chill from the evil woman behind her. She glanced at the monitor again. She had a shock when she realized that Marion was about to wake up.

No, no, Marion, lie still.

‘Not you, by the way,’ a voice whispered in her ear. ‘You won’t hear it go bang.’

Karen stroked her cheek.

‘You’re going to die now. Won’t that be nice?’

Mia made a last, desperate attempt to free herself, but she was stuck. She couldn’t control herself any more. She felt the rage boil inside her and it was unstoppable. Her body felt as if it was about to explode.

‘You crazy bitch!’

‘Now, now, now, language, Mia,’ Karen warned her.

Mia felt the tape over her mouth again. The taste of adhesive on her tongue. Breathing became difficult. Panic. Don’t panic. Breathe calmly through your nose. Don’t wake up, Marion, don’t let her see you. Lie still. This is a trap, Holger. Don’t send anyone into the house. She’s going to take everybody with her. Don’t let anyone enter. Holger. Don’t go in. Don’t send in Kim or Curry or Ludvig or Gabriel or Anette, don’t send anyone in. We can’t afford to lose anyone, Holger.

Mia felt a prick in her right hand. She looked down and saw that Karen had inserted an intravenous needle. Mia could hear the strawberry-blonde psychopath fumble with something behind her; she hung a bag on a stand and Mia felt something seep into her. It stung; it made her veins cold and numb.

‘There we are,’ Karen said, sitting down at the table again. ‘It’s a shame that we couldn’t play any longer, but it’s best that you die now. I would like a little time alone with Marion. We need some time together before we go, just her and me. We can’t have you around then.’

She giggled.

‘Won’t it be funny when they find out that you died just a few houses away? If they survive, that is. Those who survive. Who do you think will live, Mia? Munch? Kim? That Larsen guy who thinks he’s so tough? Won’t that be fun to know?’

Mia mumbled behind the tape. The strawberry-blonde psychopath was not entirely lucid; she didn’t realize that Mia couldn’t reply. Karen drummed her fingers on the table. Made small clucking sounds with her tongue. Scratched her face. Got up. Disappeared outside of Mia’s field of vision. Returned with a double-barrelled shotgun. Broke the weapon open, checked there were cartridges in both barrels. Snapped it shut and laid it on the table next to her.

‘The one we never mention liked hunting,’ she said, scratching her face again. ‘We had that in common. We both liked killing. Watching something die is funny, isn’t it, Mia? It’s fun when they stop breathing? When they finally depart?’

Karen got up and went out into the hallway. Mia could hear a door open and close. A small gust of fresh air slipped into the room. Then it disappeared. Karen returned.

‘I’m not going to shoot you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t think the girls will like having a teacher without a face, do you? No, it’s just in case anyone should come in. You can never be too careful, isn’t that right, Mia?’

Mia felt the back of her hand sting again. Something almost metallic was entering her bloodstream. She began having problems seeing clearly. She tried focusing on the screen. Marion was no longer there. Marion was gone. Had Karen been down there? What had she done to the little girl?

Karen shook her head faintly and smiled to herself.

‘I like watching people fall. That idiot who made the movie, he fell really well. For a moment, I thought he might be able to fly. Just like Roger Bakken. Roger even had wings. It was wonderful to watch. Did you feel like that, Mia? When you killed?’

Mia disappeared for a moment, went away, almost leaving the disgusting room for good. She jerked as she came round again. Karen had packed a suitcase.

‘And I was so sure that you knew,’ Karen said again. ‘That you knew why.’

Mia could see Sigrid now. In her white dress. Running slow motion through the field.

Come to me, Mia, come.

‘Markus Skog,’ Karen said. ‘She wasn’t very bright, my sister, she wasn’t, but she was kind. It wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t a good person. But what can you do? Men, eh? Not worth the hassle, are they? She killed herself after you shot him. Not with an overdose, no, she hanged herself. An overdose would have been better, don’t you think, Mia? Like Sigrid? I bet she felt good when she died? She didn’t have to jump from a tree with a rope around her neck.’

Karen glanced at the door, scratched her face briefly again.

‘Well, that’s love for you. What would I know?’

Mia could no longer keep her eyes open. She had lost sensation in her arms or legs.

Karen got up from the table, came over to her and caressed her cheek.

‘Have a nice trip, Mia Moonbeam.’

Across the field, Sigrid came running towards Mia. She stopped in front of her with a teasing look. She waved to her sister.

Come to me, Mia, come!

I’m coming, Sigrid. Wait.

I’ll be Sleeping Beauty and you’ll be Snow White?

Yes, Sigrid, I’d like that.

Come to me, Mia, come!

I’m coming, Sigrid. I’m coming now!

Mia let go.

And she followed her sister’s billowing white dress across a field of golden wheat.

Chapter 82

‘Delta 1, come in.’

Munch released the transmit button on the walkie-talkie and waited for a reply.

‘9, this is Delta 1, over.’

‘This is 9. What’s your position, over?’

Munch glanced at Kim, who sat with the Glock in his lap. He wore a bullet-proof vest and a grim expression on his face. Curry was sitting in the back; he, too, was wearing a bullet-proof vest and holding a pistol in his hand. They had driven down the forest track with the headlights switched off, and they could make out the house now; it wasn’t far away.

‘9, this is Delta 1. Eyes on location in forty metres. No target in sight, over.’

‘Delta 1, this is 9. Hold your position. Don’t shoot until I give the order. Received, over?’

‘9, this is Delta 1, received, over and out.’

‘It’s pitch black,’ Curry whispered, leaning forward between the seats.

Munch took out his night-vision binoculars and aimed them at the dilapidated old building in front of them. There was nothing to suggest that the small cottage was inhabited. That was probably the intention. The GPS coordinates from the film had taken them to this place. He was grateful to Gabriel Mørk, who, with the help of a friend, had managed to identify the location in record time. The guy had really turned out to be a find. Munch pressed the walkie-talkie again.

‘Delta 2, this is 9, come in.’

‘9, this is Delta 2, over.’

‘Position, over?’

‘This is Delta 2. We have two men behind the house, east. Three in front of the entrance, north-west. In position fifteen zero metres, over.’

‘Delta 2, this is 9. Await further instructions. Over and out.’

‘Strange that there’s not a single light, isn’t it?’ Kim Kolsø said as Munch handed him the night-vision binoculars.

‘Perhaps she’s not there?’ Curry wondered out loud.

‘Or they’re in the basement,’ Munch said.

He took the binoculars back from Kim and aimed them at the small house. There were three units attending. Two from the armed response unit, Delta, who had turned up with a group of marksmen and a SWAT team, in addition to Munch, Kim and Curry. Munch returned the binoculars to Kim and almost had to smile as he remembered how Ludvig and Gabriel had both insisted on coming with them. Ludvig was one thing – after all, he had been a police officer for a long time – but Gabriel? The boy had probably only ever let off fireworks. But he had guts. A real coup for the team, definitely. Munch had told them to man the office. He had enough officers.

‘Are we sure that she also has Mia?’ Kim said.

‘We don’t know, but at the same time we do, don’t we?’ Curry said.

‘Her car was found outside the care home,’ Munch said. ‘And the last message from her mobile was sent from somewhere on Drammensveien.’

‘Thrown out of a window, probably,’ Curry snarled.

‘Did you discover anything about the boy – Iversen?’ Munch said.

Kim had worked on his own case and come back just in time to join the team heading to the house.

‘I spoke to his teacher, Emilie Isaksen,’ Kim replied. ‘Very resourceful woman with a great social conscience. Wish there were more like her. The boy is gone. The parents are gone. She had just fetched the younger brother from the house; he had been without food for a week. I told her not to do anything on her own, but I doubt that she’ll listen. She’s probably on her way up to the forest to look for Tobias as we speak.’

‘Talk to Ludvig,’ Munch said. ‘Get Hønefoss Police to dispatch a unit.’

‘Already done.’ Kim nodded.

Munch nodded affirmatively in response. If you could trust anyone, it would be Kim Kolsø. Curry, however, he had to keep an eye on. Kim say motionless in the passenger seat, while Curry, in the back, could barely sit still.

‘So what do we do?’ Curry said, leaning forward between them again.

‘We wait,’ Munch said.

‘What are we waiting for? That crazy woman has Mia inside – who knows what she’s doing to her? Why don’t we just kick the door in and take the bitch out?’

‘Curry,’ Kim said, to calm him down.

‘I know what’s at stake,’ Munch said in a steady voice. ‘My granddaughter is in there.’

He gave Curry a look which could not be misinterpreted. Curry nodded, somewhat apologetically, and sat back down in his seat.

Marion was in there.

Munch pulled himself together. He couldn’t assume that mantle now. The mantle of grandfather. Mikkelson had tried to insist on Munch staying at home, letting others do the job, but not even a bulldozer could not have held Munch back. He raised the binoculars to his eyes again and looked towards the dark house.

‘How long do we wait?’ Curry said impatiently from the back.

‘Curry,’ Kim said again.

‘No, he’s right,’ Munch said gruffly. ‘There is nothing to wait for.’

He pressed the walkie-talkie again.

‘Delta 2, this is 9. Come in.’

‘9, this is Delta 2, over.’

‘Delta 2, this is 9. Stand by for entry.’

‘Delta 2, received. Over and out.’

Munch checked that the safety catch had been released on the Glock before nodding to the other two.

‘Are we ready?’

Kim nodded.

‘Oh, yes,’ Curry said.

Munch carefully opened the door and got out of the Audi as quietly as he could.

Chapter 83

Marion Munch awoke with that strange taste in her mouth again. She had had such a lovely dream. That she was at home, that her parents were there, and that everything was back to normal. She opened her eyes only to discover that she was still trapped in the small, white, chilly room. Still wearing the same stupid, cumbersome dress. She curled up under the thin duvet and started to cry. She didn’t know how long she had been there now, it was difficult to tell because the light never went off. She had looked for the switch, but there was no switch to be found, just cold walls and no windows or doors. Marion had cried so much that her eyes had almost run out of tears. She had banged on the walls, screamed and shouted, but no one had come. At first, she couldn’t understand why. They always came when she cried. Her parents, they would always come. Like the time she had had a temperature and dreamt that Pooh Bear had turned into a giant monster that was trying to eat her. At that time, both her parents had come immediately. But no one was coming now. Not to this room. No one took care of her. She was all alone.

Marion Munch stuck her thumb in her mouth and curled into a tiny ball on the bed. She had stopped sucking her thumb some time ago, but now she had started again. She pressed her tongue hard against her thumb; it felt safe and good. Licked her thumb. The nail felt rough. She took her thumb out of her mouth and stared at it in surprise. Someone had scratched something on to her fingernail. There was a dent there, almost like a letter. Like Vivian’s initial at nursery, V. She had a V on her thumb. Marion stuck her thumb into her mouth again and traced the sharp edges in the nail letter with her tongue.

At the start, she had drawn pictures. Or tried to draw pictures – it hadn’t been easy. There was no one she could show her drawings to; there was just her. She had drawn pictures of her parents and her grandfather. Then she had drawn a superhero. The superhero was a woman she could talk to and who would look after her, and since then being here had felt a little easier. There seemed to be no days in the white room. At home, it would be morning or day or night, it was easy to know when things happened, but here it was impossible. It was light all the time and there were no noises anywhere, except when her meals arrived from the hatch in the wall. The one with the noisy, wind-up monkey inside. The food was strange and not terribly good, but she had eaten it all up because she was incredibly hungry. Sometimes there would be a bottle of squash, but mostly it was just water. Eating and drinking was a mistake, because then she would need the loo. And there was no loo in the room, just a waste basket, and it really stank, it really did all the time. Marion had made a lid from paper from her sketchpad, and that had reduced the stench a little. But, even so, she dreaded every time she had to remove the lid and squat down, because it was getting quite full and it was disgusting.

Even though it was light all the time, she didn’t find it difficult to sleep. Weird, really. The same thing would happen every time: After she had eaten, she would fall asleep. Even though she hadn’t felt tired at all. It was almost as if the food made her sleepy. As if the food was magic. She remembered Alice in Wonderland, who had felt strange after eating something – first she had turned big, then she had grown small – so magic food probably existed. Was it possible for food to be magic even though it tasted bad? Marion ran her tongue across the dent in her nail, just as she heard the wall started to hum again. Brr, vrr, the magic food was coming, it was travelling down to her through the wall. She got up and went over to the hatch. Stood there waiting for the food to land. She recognized the sounds now. Brr, vrr, brr, vrr and a clonk. Then she could open the hatch to see what she had got. It was mostly mashed potatoes and carrots and that stuff she didn’t like. Cauliflower. No, broccoli. Never pizza or sausages or tomato soup, never her favourite things. Marion waited for the clonk, still with her thumb in her mouth. Come to think of it, she never heard the service lift go back up again. It only ever came down. She would take out the food, eat it, and then the lift would come back down again. Because she had been asleep, was that it? It probably was. The magic food made her sleep, and then the lift would go up through the wall again while she was asleep; that had to be how it was.

There was a clonk. Marion Munch opened the hatch to see what was there. A bottle of squash this time, that was good. But the food looked revolting. There was something made from potatoes, and that green stuff again. Broccoli. She took the plate and the bottle out of the lift and sat down on the chair by the desk. She picked at the food with the fork which had accompanied it. She didn’t have much of an appetite now. Most of all, she wanted to cry. Not eat, just cry. She could feel the tears pressing, but she steeled herself. There was no point in crying. Not in this room. No one would come. No matter how many tears she cried. But, even so, she couldn’t manage it. Holding them back. She sat with the fork in her hand while she watched the tears drip down on her plate.

What if she didn’t eat the food? She had no idea where that thought had come from. Suddenly, it just appeared in her mind. What if she didn’t eat the food, then what? Would she stay awake? Would she hear the lift go back up again? She glanced at the hatch in the wall. How did she get that idea? Out of nothing and into her head. Because it was a brilliant idea, wasn’t it? If she didn’t eat the food, would the lift still go back up? She quickly got up and went over to the hatch. She opened it and peered inside. She could fit inside it, couldn’t she? She had hidden out in much smaller places. Once, they had played hide and seek and she had hidden in the saucepan cupboard in the kitchen, and no one had found her; in the end she had had to give herself up. And that cupboard was really tight; no one had suspected a thing, they had all been terribly impressed. She was going to trick the lift, that was her plan. She would pretend to eat the food but empty it into the lavatory bin, then put the plate in the corner with the others and lie down on the bed. The lift must go when she slept. Perhaps it would still do so if she pretended to be asleep? Marion positioned herself with her back to the lift and picked up the plate from the table. It was important that the lift didn’t see what she was doing. Or it might change its mind. She carefully raised the paper lid from the bin and tipped the food into it as swiftly as she could. She quickly sat down again and glanced at the hatch in the wall.

‘Oh, my tummy is all full now,’ she said out loud and patted her stomach a few times.

The lift did nothing. It had clearly not noticed anything was amiss.

‘Oh, I feel so tired now,’ she said, letting out a fake yawn.

She put the plate in the pile with the others and went to bed. She lay facing the lift and closed her eyes. She lay very still with her thumb in her mouth. She was good at lying still. That time she had hidden in the kitchen cupboard, she had lain still for… well, for a long time. So long that her parents had started calling her name. Marion squeezed her eyes shut and lay still, waiting for the lift to move. There was no sound. She could feel herself getting a little impatient. This was not like lying in the kitchen cupboard when she knew that there was someone outside. That someone was looking for her. Who would be delighted to find her. Here, there was no one. She felt the tears press against the inside of her eyelids again, but she managed to keep them at bay. If she was crying, then she couldn’t be asleep. The lift would probably know that. She stuck her thumb even deeper into her mouth and tried to think of something else. When she had curled up in the kitchen cupboard, she had made up a game in her head. A story. A story based on Monster High, a story she hadn’t seen on television, one she had invented all by herself. The time had flown by; it hadn’t been a problem at all. She pretended to be DracuLaura, who has forgotten to do her homework. This was a big mistake because the teacher would come soon, and then she would have to say that she hadn’t done her homework, and she didn’t want to do that. DracuLaura might seem like a tough girl, but she wanted to do well at school; the others might not think so, but that was what she wanted. But now she had forgotten it, her homework. She hadn’t meant to, it had just slipped her mind. There had been so much else going on. Marion was just about to decide why DracuLaura had forgotten to do her homework when she suddenly heard the lift starting to stir. Brr, vrr. On impulse she leapt out of bed and ran to the hatch. She quickly pulled it open and crept inside the hole in the wall. The lift was very small, and first she couldn’t get her foot inside. She pulled it in with a jerk and, suddenly, all of her was inside it. She was inside the lift! And it was going up!

The lift squeaked and creaked its way upwards through the wall, and she couldn’t see a thing. Marion curled into a tiny ball and tried not to be scared of the dark. Her heart pounded inside her small chest; she was almost afraid to breathe. Brr, vrr. It moved slowly, slowly upwards, and then, suddenly, clonk. The lift had stopped. The lift had stopped without noticing that she was inside it. She carefully nudged the hatch and discovered to her delight that it opened. Marion Munch climbed out of the hatch and stood on the floor with a gawping expression on her face.

She was in a living room. In a house she had never seen before. There weren’t any windows here either – no, there were, but the curtains were closed. There was a woman in a chair by a table in the middle of the room. Marion looked around and reluctantly walked up to the her. She had her eyes closed and grey tape covered her mouth. A tube with water or something from a bag was going into her hand.

Marion Munch stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do and glancing around frantically. There was a hallway with shoes and boots, just like at home. And a door. A front door. Marion tiptoed to the door. The stupid dress made it difficult for her to walk, and it also made a lot of stupid noise. Did she dare open the door? How would she know what might lie behind it? In this house where everything was so strange?

‘Stop!’

Marion Munch jumped when she heard the shrill woman’s voice behind her.

‘Stop! Stop!’

Marion Munch put her hand on the door handle, pushed open the door and ran out into the darkness as quickly as her little legs could carry her.

Chapter 84

Karianne Kolstad hated selling lottery tickets. Selling lottery tickets was the worst thing she knew. The fourteen-year-old had considered quitting the Girl Guides simply because of those stupid lottery tickets. She didn’t mind fundraising activities – she had picked strawberries and cleared rocks from fields for farmers – it was just these stupid lottery tickets she couldn’t stand. Karianne Kolstad was shy; that was the reason she hated selling lottery tickets. She had to ring people’s doorbells and talk to them.

Karianne Kolstad tightened her jacket and walked down the road to Tom Lauritz Larsen’s farm. She didn’t mind knocking on his door; she knew he would be all right. The pig farmer was a bit eccentric, but he was nice and she had spoken to him before. The last time she called he had bought practically all her tickets. She hoped she might be just as lucky today. Karianne Kolstad opened the gate and entered the farmyard.

Tom Lauritz Larsen had become something of a minor celebrity after someone had decapitated one of his sows. Their local newspaper, Hamar Arbeiderblad, had written about it several times. First, when the head went missing, and then when it reappeared. ‘Local pig found on stake in Babes in the Wood case’ had been the headline, and there had been photographs of Larsen, as well as his farmhand.

Karianne Kolstad knew everything about the dead girls; she had read every word about the case in the newspapers. There had been meetings as well, first at school, then with the Girl Guides, then in the village hall, where everyone had turned up – not just people who had daughters about to start school, but practically everyone in the village. They had lit candles for the dead and missing girls and she had helped start a Facebook group to show her respect for them. Starting a Facebook group was easy, all she had to do was sit in front of her laptop; not like now, when she had to talk to real people. She went up to the farmhouse and knocked on the door. It was starting to get dark, but the light was on in the kitchen window. She could hear music, too, so he was probably at home. She knocked again and the door opened. She breathed in and braced herself, trying to put on a smile.

‘Hello?’ Larsen said, looking at her kindly. ‘Are you out selling lottery tickets again?’

Phew, thank God, at least she wouldn’t have to tell him that.

‘Yes,’ she nodded, relieved.

‘You had better come in,’ Larsen said, looking out into the darkness behind her.

‘Are you out this late all on your own?’ he asked when she had stepped inside the kitchen.

‘Yes.’ Karianne nodded, shyly.

‘And what is it this time?’

Tom Lauritz Larsen had already produced his wallet and was holding it in his hand.

‘Our group is going on a camping trip. To Sweden.’

‘Well, I imagine that will be nice.’

‘Yes, I hope so.’ Karianne nodded politely.

‘I’m usually unlucky at gambling,’ Larsen chortled as he took out a hundred-kroner note from his wallet. ‘But you have to support the young, don’t you think?’

‘Thank you,’ Karianne said. ‘The tickets are twenty kroner each and you can win a fruit basket and some coffee, and some things that we have made ourselves.’

‘Oh, I don’t suppose I’ll win anything, but I’ll certainly buy some tickets.’ Larsen smiled and winked at her. ‘Unfortunately, I only have one hundred kroner, that’s all.’

One hundred kroner. Five tickets. It meant she would have to keep going tonight. She had left it to the last minute. Unsold tickets had to be returned to Brown Owl tomorrow, and she had still many tickets left to sell.

‘Well, at least it’s a start,’ Larsen said, and gave her the hundred-kroner note and took the tickets she gave him.

‘Now be careful,’ he said, sounding a little anxious when she was back on the steps outside again.

He stared out into the darkness behind her and wrinkled his nose. It was clear that something had happened to him after the pig’s head incident. He had not seemed so nervous the last time she had called.

Karianne Kolstad walked across the yard and back out through the gate. She continued towards Vik Bridge and was sorely tempted just to go home, forget all about selling tickets, when an unreal scene suddenly unfolded right in front of her.

At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes. It seemed impossible. Here in Tangen. The most boring place on earth, where nothing ever happened. Right across the road, there was a small house. She didn’t think that anyone lived here, she had always believed that it was empty; no one had ever seen anyone come or go. Now, the front door was wide open and a small girl was running out of it. The girl wore a strange dress and was screaming at the top of her voice. Karianne Kolstad recognized her immediately. She had seen her in the newspapers. There were pictures of her on her Facebook page. It was girl number five. It was Marion Munch.

Karianne froze, her mouth wide open. The little girl had jumped down the steps but had tripped and fallen in the gravel. A woman came chasing after her. Marion got back on her feet, glanced over her shoulder, let out a scream and ran on. The woman behind her was much faster, she snatched her, placed her hand over the little girl’s mouth, carried her back inside the house and closed the door.

Then everything fell quiet again.

For a moment Karianne Kolstad was in shock. She had dropped the lottery tickets and the money and her mobile on the ground.

Then she bent down quickly, picked up her mobile and pressed 1-1-2 with trembling fingers.

Chapter 85

Lukas put down the gun on the ground and inserted the key into the padlock. It was chilly outside now; he could feel the cold evening air on his neck. He unlocked the padlock and lifted up the heavy wooden hatch. He shone his torch into the dark space. The light swept down a long ladder and hit the concrete floor some metres further below. He stuck the gun into the lining of his trousers and descended the ladder. The boy and Rakel were standing with a blanket wrapped around them when he came down. He pointed the light at them but lowered it when he saw them shield their eyes against the strong beam.

‘I’m Jesus,’ he said, making his voice as calm as he could. ‘Don’t be scared, I’m not here to hurt you.’

He shone the torch around the room and found what he was looking for. A jerry can in front of a shelf of cardboard boxes. The boy and Rakel crossed the concrete floor and came towards him reluctantly.

‘Can we go now?’ the boy asked tentatively.

‘Yes, you can go now,’ Lukas said. ‘Go with God. The gate is open.’

He caught a glimpse of the boy’s eyes as he passed him in the cold room.

‘Thank you,’ Tobias said, placing his hand gently on his arm.

‘I am Jesus.’ Lukas smiled again and showed them the way to the ladder with the torch.

He waited until they had both crawled out through the hatch before aiming the torch at the shelves again and finding the jerry can. It was heavy, but he managed to carry it up the ladder, dragging it up the steps with his torch tucked under one arm. He closed the hatch and stood watching the stars for a moment. He had rarely seen a more beautiful sight. Hope and joy twinkled across the sky. He smiled fondly to himself as he crossed the yard.

The pastor was standing inside the church, in front of the altar at the end wall, with his back to him. He turned when he heard Lukas enter.

‘How did it go?’ The pastor smiled, walking towards him with open arms.

He stopped, shocked, in the middle of the church when he saw what Lukas had in his hand. Lukas had drawn the gun from the lining of his trousers and was holding it in his outstretched arm with the muzzle pointing straight at the pastor’s chest.

‘Lukas? What are you doing?’

‘I’m saving you,’ Lukas smiled, walking softly towards the man with the white hair.

‘What do you mean, my son?’ the pastor said, gritting his teeth. ‘Come to me, my son. Give me the gun. You don’t know what you’re doing.’

He held out his arms towards the young man with the blond hair.

‘Shhh,’ Lukas said. His eyes were sparkling now. ‘Haven’t you realized it yet?’

‘Wh-at?’ the pastor stammered.

‘That the devil is inside you.’

‘You’re talking nonsense, my son,’ the white-haired man stuttered.

‘No,’ Lukas said gravely. ‘The devil has taken residence in you, but it’s not too late. I was put on this earth to save you. This is my mission.’

‘What the hell, Lukas,’ the pastor stuttered.

‘Don’t you see?’ Lukas nodded. ‘The devil has taken your heart. He’s talking through your mouth. We don’t treat children like that. We don’t treat people like that. We help them, we don’t hurt them. That’s not the will of God. It’s not your fault. You’re innocent, the devil tricked you. He got you to invite him in. Took your soul. Made you want to hurt other people. Everything will be all right now, Father. We can travel right now. We don’t need to wait. Let us go to Heaven together.’

‘Give me that gun, you damned…’ the pastor screamed frantically, but it was too late.

Lukas pulled the trigger, shot the white-haired man twice in the chest and dropped the gun on the church floor. The pastor was flung backwards by the heavy blow and collapsed, gasping, in front of him. Lukas opened the jerry can and started pouring its contents along the walls. He took his time. They were in no hurry. The smell of petrol started wafting through the small church. Pastor Simon was lying on his back on the floor, his mouth half open, watching Lukas with panicky eyes, clutching his chest with stiff, spasmodic hands. How beautiful, Lukas thought, when he saw the fresh blood trickle in small brooks across the newly polished floor. He tipped out the rest of the petrol by the altar and returned to the pastor, who was clutching his throat now, trying to say something, but only gurgling noises emerged from his mouth.

‘Don’t be scared,’ Lukas said, stroking the pastor’s white hair.

He stood up again and took out the lighter from his pocket. Checked to see if it worked. Watched the little flame flicker in front of him. He started in one corner. The petrol quickly caught fire. He went over to the other side, put the lighter to the floor, ignited the petrol and continued until the whole of the white church was filled with burning light. He threw aside the lighter, went back to the pastor, knelt by his side and held his hand. The church was ablaze now – curtains, walls, the floor, the altar. Lukas smiled to himself and started chanting. He stroked the pastor carefully across his white mane.

‘Can you see the devil? He’s leaving you now. Isn’t it wondrous?’ The young man laughed.

The pastor stared at him, horrified. His body was shaking. The blood was pouring out of the holes in his chest.

The flames started licking the ceiling. The whole building was burning now.

‘I’ll see you at home, Father.’ Lukas smiled.

And closed his eyes.

Chapter 86

Holger Munch crept quietly towards the old cottage with a feeling that something was wrong. The windows were bolted shut. There was a gaping hole in the roof. There were no signs that anyone had lived there for years. The cottage looked as if it might collapse at any moment. Could this place really be Karen’s hide-out? This dilapidated hut? Strange. The closer they got to the house, the stronger was his feeling that something was amiss.

‘All Delta units, this is 9,’ he whispered into the walkie-talkie, just as he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket.

‘Anyone see anything?’

‘Negative,’ came the reply in his ear.

He could see Curry shifting from foot to foot only a few metres in front of him, his pistol at the ready. Curry shrugged his shoulders as if to say, What are we waiting for?

This house really was uninhabitable. Had she built somewhere she could live underneath it? The small room they had seen on the Kiese movie? From what he had seen of the short film, that room was far too small to live in. Of course, there might be several such rooms next to each other, but it seemed unlikely.

He tried frantically to make a decision. They had absolutely no time to lose. She had Marion. She had Mia. They had to do something. They might be too late already.

Too late already.

He didn’t even dare to think of the consequences if the latter was true. For Miriam. Marianne. For everyone. Everyone in the unit. Not least him.

‘9, this is Delta 1,’ he heard in his earpiece. ‘We’re on standby and ready for entry. Clear signal for go? Over.’

Curry shrugged his shoulders again, almost over-eager now. It seemed as if he was up for anything and, unless Munch gave the order soon, he would storm the house single-handed.

Munch had crouched down on one knee on the grass, not far from the cottage, trying to get a clearer view of the situation when he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket for the second time.

No, this wasn’t it. It didn’t feel right. Building a small, underground, sealed room was one thing, but a place you could actually live in? Why on earth would anyone do that? Surely it would be much simpler to make changes to the basement in a house which was not about to cave in?

‘9?’ He could hear in his walkie-talkie again.

It wasn’t only Curry who was getting twitchy now, the whole entry team was on edge.

His mobile buzzed again like an angry wasp against his trouser leg. What the hell?

He eased it out of his pocket and glanced at it while trying to screen the light from the display with his hand so he would not be seen.

He had two missed call from Ludvig Grønlie, and a text message which was now glowing at him from the mobile.

Wrong place!!! Witness reports eye contact with Marion. Call me!!!!

‘Delta all, Delta all, this is 9,’ he said quickly and firmly into his walkie-talkie. ‘We have a new location. Regroup and await new orders. I repeat, no entry, we have a new location, regroup and await new orders.’

He got up, walked quickly back to the car and rang Ludvig Grønlie.

Chapter 87

Emilie Isaksen sat behind the wheel, driving her car up the narrow gravel track leading into the forest. She had spent a long time weighing up the pros and cons. After all, she had promised Torben a pizza, but the boy had seemed happy with some chocolate and a banana she had had in her bag. She didn’t know why, but she had a hunch that time was of the essence. Tobias had been missing for a week. On his way to a kind of cult in the forest, to the Christian girls, as Torben had called them. The thought that he might be there and in need of help was unbearable, she had to do something now, even if it was a futile gesture. After all, she didn’t even know exactly where this place was. But she had been provoked by the slow response from the police and had decided to take matters into her own hands and, as Torben was sitting next to her with a small smile and chocolate around the corners of his mouth, he seemed quite content.

She had never known a case like this. These kids needed a new home. No doubt about it. You shouldn’t be allowed to treat children like this. Emilie Isaksen was so angry she wanted to bang her fist against the steering wheel, but she controlled herself for the sake of the little boy. Even so, she had some doubts as to whether she had made the right choice. It was dark outside now. The only light she had came from her headlights, the track was winding and they were surrounded by forest; if an elk had suddenly run out from between the trees, she wouldn’t have been able to stop in time. So she drove slowly. The car crept across the gravel track and, as if visibility hadn’t been bad enough to begin with, small drops of rain had started falling on her windscreen. Social workers. She didn’t know much about how they worked; they probably had to follow procedures, write letters, summon the parents, give them an opportunity to explain themselves, endless bureaucracy, possibly legal proceedings – you couldn’t just separate children from their parents, and that was probably a good thing but, in this case, when they couldn’t even contact the parents?

She had a friend who worked for Social Services, Agnete; they had met at an aerobics class and had coffee together a couple of times. She made up her mind there and then to call her once they got off this horrible gravel track; Agnete would probably know what to do.

It was raining more heavily now, and it was near impossible to see anything out of the windscreen. She didn’t even know how far away the farm was. It seemed irresponsible to go on. After all, she had a small boy in the car. Better to turn around and drive back. Let the police look for Tobias while she looked after Torben. Give the boy some more food and a warm bed. Contact Social Services. Start the process which would provide these boys with a good foster home, with trusted, responsible adults who would care for them, love them, like children should be loved.

She was just about to look for a place to turn around when two figures suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, hand in hand, blinded by the headlights.

Tobias.

Emilie Isaksen’s heart almost jumped out of her throat when she saw the two terrified teenagers abandon the road after spotting the unfamiliar car and run into the forest.

She hit the brakes and stepped out into the rain with the engine running and the handbrake on.

‘Tobias!’ she called out.

Not a sound from anywhere. Just heavy rain hitting the gravel and drumming ominously against the bonnet.

‘Tobias!’ she called out again, with the water pouring over her face.

‘It’s me, Emilie. Don’t be afraid. You can come out now. Everything is all right. I’m here to pick you up. Tobias? Are you in there?’

The seconds passed and seemed to Emilie like eternity, but then some branches stirred not far from her, and soon two quizzical faces appeared in between them.

‘Emilie?’ Tobias said tentativel,y as he walked slowly towards her.

‘Yes.’ Emilie smiled. ‘Are you OK? Is everything all right with you?’

The handsome boy looked worn out and confused, but at least he was alive. She heaved a sigh of relief.

‘This is Rakel,’ Tobias said cautiously, gesturing to the girl who was hiding behind him.

The girl, who was wearing a heavy grey woollen dress and a white bonnet, as if she was from a different century, was standing trembling behind Tobias, not quite daring to show herself.

‘She needs help,’ Tobias said, and it wasn’t until now that Emilie realized how exhausted the boy was. His eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head, and he could barely manage to stay on his feet.

‘Get in,’ Emilie said, opening the rear door.

‘Tobias!’ Torben cried out when he saw his shattered bother climb into the car.

The little boy undid his seatbelt in a second and made his way to the back, where he gave his brother a big, long hug.

How could this be allowed to happen? What on earth had people done to these children?

Emilie got back behind the wheel and found a place to turn around.

‘Are you all right in the back?’ she said when they had driven some way down the road.

She caught Tobias’s eye in the rear-view mirror. The boy still looked dazed, but it seemed as if, regardless of the kind of cruelty they had been subjected to, he was slowly starting to believe that they were in safe hands.

‘We’re fine,’ he nodded, his voice trembling. ‘Will you help us?’

He looked at Emilie in the rear-view mirror.

‘Definitely.’ Emilie nodded back. ‘Everything will be all right now, Tobias, I promise you.’

Emilie Isaksen drove as quickly as she dared down the narrow gravel track.

And then she headed into town.

Chapter 88

For the second time in less than an hour Holger Munch was sitting in his car with the binoculars raised to his eyes, with a Delta team ready for entry, but this time outside the right location. Definitely the right one. A girl had seen Marion run out of this very house. Only to be brought back inside. By Karen Nylund. The girl was local and she knew what she was talking about; there was no longer any doubt. And where everything about the old, ramshackle cottage they had just left had felt wrong, everything here felt absolutely right. It was an old, red house, a little shabby but clearly habitable. There was a faint light coming from behind the windows as if someone had covered them with film to prevent anyone looking in. A thin column of smoke rose from a brick chimney on the roof. An idyllic little cottage in the country. From the outside. But it was clear to them that inside was another story. Karen Nylund was inside. She had murdered four six-year-old girls. She had ruined the lives of innocent parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, neighbours; inflicted extreme pain on them which would never go away. She had tricked him into thinking he might experience love again. He felt his hatred well up in his chest, his forehead grew hot and his palms sweaty, but he tried to stay calm. Professional. Not acting rashly. She had Marion. Marion was alive. Or at least she had been less than an hour ago. Holger Munch didn’t dare to contemplate if Mia was inside and what might have happened to her.

It was a matter of acting quickly, but not too quickly. They had to get an overview of the situation. Get every team member in place. Munch glanced further down the road, where three ambulances had pulled up a short while ago, all with their lights turned off so as not to draw attention to themselves. Curry sat impatiently in the back, tapping his pistol against his thigh. As usual, Kim Kolsø sat like a pillar of salt in the seat next to Holger Munch, his gazed fixed on the door they would soon break down.

‘Delta 1, this is 9. Come in.’

‘9, this is Delta 1. We’re in position, over.’

‘Delta 2, this is 9. Come in.’

‘9, this is Delta 2. We need a few minutes, over.’

‘Delta 2, this is 9. Received. We’ll wait, over.’

‘What the hell is going on?’ Curry said impatiently from the back.

‘We’re waiting,’ Munch said briefly.

‘What are we waiting for? Mia is in there, for God’s sake.’

The bald police officer could barely keep still any longer, his fingers went like drum sticks against his thigh and his eyes were narrow, filled with rage.

‘We’re waiting for Delta 2 to get into position,’ Munch said, as calmly as he could manage.

‘Calm down, Curry,’ Kim said, still sitting motionless in the front.

‘Sod this,’ they suddenly heard from the back.

It all happened so quickly that Munch had no time to react. Curry had already opened the rear door and was heading for the house.

Munch flung open his door and was followed by Kim leaping out of the car. He wanted to shout, but he didn’t want to alert Karen.

Damn.

He increased his speed as much as his heavy body would allow, running down the gravel track, through the gate, across the flagstones. He reached the steps just as Curry pushed down the door handle and stormed inside the house.

From then on, everything happened in slow motion. Munch caught a glimpse of Karen’s startled reaction to the noise. She had been caught off guard. It was clear that she had‘ot been expecting this, but the strawberry-blonde woman still had time to swing the barrel of the shotgun towards Curry, who threw himself to one side as the shot was fired.

Did she hit him?

Curry, you bloody idiot!

Still in slow motion she turned and faced him. Her hands gripped the weapon so hard that her knuckles were white. It looked as if she opened her mouth to say something as her finger curled around the trigger, but by now Holger Munch had had enough of slow-motion movies.

He raised his gun and fired twice. Once to the neck. Once right through her heart. Karen Nylund twitched, fell backwards and lay lifeless on the floor as the blood ran slowly down her chest and along her arms.

And that was when he spotted Mia. She was tied to a chair near a wall. Tape covered her mouth. A needle in her hand from some kind of stand.

Oh no.

Oh, please, no, no, no.

Holger Munch froze right in front of his lifeless colleague, unaware of all the people who came rushing in behind him. Kim. The Delta teams. The doctor. The paramedics. He stayed where he was, unable to utter a single word, watching people who seemed miles away free Mia from the chair and carry her out into the waiting ambulance. He didn’t see Curry get up from the floor, clutching his arm and being supported down the steps. Holger Munch didn’t snap out of his trance until Kim appeared with a small, trembling figure in his arms.

Marion.

She was alive.

In poor shape, but she was breathing.

‘Ambulance!’ Holger Munch shouted, and helped his colleague carry the little girl down the steps.

‘Doctor, we need a doctor here!’

And this time the ambulances did not move discreetly. A noisy motorcade of flashing blue lights and sirens left the house and sped through the evening darkness towards the E6.