Oblivion

53

One evening several weeks later Erlendur took a last stroll down the street where Dagbjört had lived and died, then kept on walking until he reached the site where Camp Knox had once stood as a memorial to military occupation and Icelandic poverty. For many years he had been haunted by Dagbjört’s story, by her inexplicable disappearance, the mystery shrouding her fate. He had immersed himself in the details of her life, followed in her footsteps time and again, stood brooding in front of her house and now, at last, discovered what had befallen her so heart-rendingly close to home.

It was a cold day and a biting northerly whipped up the loose snow and blew it along the street. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets and headed into the wind, conscious that the Dagbjört affair had only intensified his fascination with those who never came back. Solving the case had given him no more than a temporary respite. Lately the old pop song ‘Dagný’ had been running through his mind, conjuring up an image of the schoolgirls who once came together to sing about joy and delight, that poignant melody that would always remind him of Dagbjört. It was a relief to have found answers to the questions about her fate that had preyed on him so long, but he knew that for him there would be no closure. Her song would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.