Outrage

21

Konrád would never forget the phone call from his daughter that night. He saw her name on the screen: Nína, followed by three little hearts. His mobile had been on the bedside table and he’d answered at the first ring.

When he’d seen what time it was he had been taken aback.

And when he heard the pain in her voice, his blood had run cold.

‘Oh, God,’ he moaned. He was still clutching his daughter’s photo. ‘I … I’ve never heard anything like it in my life.’

Konrád and his wife had had no particular anxiety about their daughter. Not any more, at least. When she was younger, and they knew she was out on the town with her friends, they were always a little uneasy. And the same was true when she first left home and rented her own flat. News reports of brutal attacks in the city centre, growing violence in connection with drug use, and rapes were not calculated to reassure them, and they urged her always to carry her mobile. If anything happened, she was to ring home. They had been just as uneasy about their sons when they had first started going out at night.

Nothing serious had befallen any of them before. A wallet had been stolen on a foreign holiday, and a couple of years ago their younger son had caused a minor road accident. The family had lived a fairly uneventful life, and that was what they wanted. They had maintained their standards and treated others with consideration and respect. The couple were close and united in all they did, had a wide circle of friends, and enjoyed travelling both in Iceland and abroad.

They had made a good life for themselves, were happy with what they had achieved and were proud of their children. Both sons were now settled: the elder one, who lived in San Francisco, was married to an American woman who was also a doctor doing postgraduate training. They had a child, a little girl named after her Icelandic grandmother. For the past two years the younger son had been living with a woman who worked in the corporate division of one of the major banks. Nína was in no hurry to settle down. She had lived with a young computer scientist for a year but since then she had been single.

‘She’s always been reserved and self-sufficient,’ Konrád said to Elínborg as he replaced the photo on the table. ‘She’s never been any trouble. Although she has a lot of friends, I think she’s happiest on her own. That’s just the way she is. And she would never hurt a fly.’

‘They don’t care about that,’ said Elínborg.

‘No,’ said Konrád, ‘that’s for sure.’

‘What did she say when she called?’

‘It was impossible to understand her. A stifled howl of anguish — terror and weeping and fear, all at the same time. She couldn’t say a word. I knew it was Nína’s phone because I saw the caller ID, but I thought at first it was some stranger who had stolen it. I didn’t even recognise her voice. Then I heard her say Daddy, and that’s when I knew something terrible had happened. That she must have experienced some unspeakable horror.’

‘Daddy.’ The voice was racked with sobbing.

‘Now, now,’ Konrád spoke into the phone. ‘Try to calm down, sweetheart.’

‘Daddy,’ his daughter wept. ‘Can you come? Please … please … please come.’

Her voice cracked. Konrád heard his daughter keening at the other end of the line. He was out of bed now. He walked down the hall and into the living room. His wife followed anxiously.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

‘It’s Nína,’ he replied. ‘Are you there, darling?’ he asked. ‘Nína? Tell me where you are. Can you do that for me? Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you.’ He could hear nothing but crying. ‘Nína! Tell me where you are.’

‘I’m at … at his … his place.’

‘Whose place?’

‘Dad, you’ve got to come. You mustn’t call the police.’

‘Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you injured?’

‘I don’t know what I’ve done. It’s awful. It’s … so awful. Daddy!’

‘Nína, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Have you been in a car crash?’

His daughter was whimpering again. Konrád could hear nothing but her stifled wailing.

‘Speak to me, sweetheart. Can you tell me where you are? Can you do that? Just say where you are and I’ll come and fetch you. I’ll come right away.’

‘There’s blood everywhere, and he’s lying … lying on the floor. I’m scared, I’m scared to go …’

‘What house is it, darling?’

‘We walked. We walked here. Dad, you can’t come here. I don’t know what to do. You have to come alone. Just you! You’ve got to help me.’

‘I’ll come and get you. Do you know the name of the street?’

Konrád dressed hurriedly in tracksuit bottoms and shrugged on a jacket over his pyjama top.

‘I’m coming with you,’ said his wife.

He shook his head. ‘She wants me to come alone. You stay here. Are you there, sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘I don’t … don’t know the name of the street.’

‘What’s the name of the man who lives there? Maybe I can find him in the phone book.’

‘His name’s Runólfur.’

‘Do you know his surname?’

Silence.

‘Nína?’

‘I think …’

‘Yes?’

‘Dad? Are you there?’

‘Yes, my dear.’

‘I think … I think he’s dead.’

‘All right. Don’t worry. It’s all right. I’ll come and get you, and everything will be all right. But you’ve got to tell me where you are. Which way did you go?’

‘There’s blood everywhere!’

‘Try to be calm, now.’

‘I can’t remember anything. Not a thing.’

‘All right.’

‘I went into town for the evening.’

‘Yes.’

‘And I met this man.’

‘Yes.’

Konrád heard that his daughter was becoming less hysterical.

‘We passed the High School. And then the American Embassy, round that way,’ she said. ‘You must come alone. And make sure no one sees you.’

‘All right.’

‘I’m so scared, Dad. I don’t know what happened. I only know I must … must have attacked him.’

‘Where did you go next, darling?’

‘I don’t remember anything — but it’s not that I was drunk. I didn’t drink anything. And yet I can’t remember. I don’t know what’s wrong with me …’

‘Can you see any bills lying around, something with his name on, which might show the address?’

‘I don’t … don’t know what’s going on here.’

‘Have a look around, dear.’

Konrád opened the garage door, got into the car and started the engine. He reversed out into the street and drove off. His wife had refused to be left at home and she sat in the passenger seat, devoured by anxiety as she listened to the conversation.

‘Here’s a bill. It’s addressed to Runólfur. And there’s an address.’ Nína read it out.

‘That’s my brave girl,’ Konrád said. ‘I’m on my way. I’ll be with you in five minutes, at most.’

‘You must come alone.’

‘Your mother’s with me.’

‘No! God, no! She mustn’t come. You and Mum mustn’t be seen here. I don’t want anyone to see. I just want to go home. Please, please don’t bring Mum …’ Nína was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘I can’t do this,’ she moaned.

‘All right,’ her father said. ‘I’ll come by myself. I won’t park at the house. Is that all right? Don’t worry. Mum’ll wait in the car.’

‘Be quick, Daddy. Be quick.’

Konrád turned off the Ring Road, up Njardargata, then made a left turn. He parked a short distance away and, leaving his wife in the car, set off towards the house where Nína was waiting for him. He hurried towards her with his phone to his ear, doing his best to calm her as he walked. The streets were empty and so far as he could tell nobody had noticed his presence. On arrival he started up the steps to the front door. But he saw that the name on the doorbell was not Runólfur’s, so he turned back and followed the path around to the back garden. There, above the postbox, was the name he was looking for.

‘I’m here, my dear,’ Konrád said into the phone. The door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside. He saw a man lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Nína was wrapped in a bedspread, huddled against the wall, clutching her knees to her chest. She was rocking back and forth, her phone clasped to her ear. Konrád switched his mobile off, went to her, and gently helped her to her feet. She collapsed, shaking, into his embrace.

‘What have you done, my child?’ he murmured.

Konrád concluded his account. For a long time, lost in thought, he looked at the brace on his leg. Then he turned to Elínborg.

‘Why didn’t you call the police?’ she asked him.

‘I should have rung you immediately, I know that,’ he replied. ‘But we just gathered up her clothes and left. We didn’t go back the same way. We went out through the garden, down into the next street to the car, then drove home. I know I did the wrong thing. I just wanted to protect my daughter — protect us and our lives — but I’m afraid I’ve just made things worse.’

‘I’ll need to speak to her,’ said Elínborg.

‘Of course,’ said Konrád. ‘I told her and my wife that you were here yesterday. I think we’re all relieved.’

‘You have difficult times ahead, I’m afraid,’ said Elínborg as she stood up.

‘We haven’t felt able to tell her brothers about it yet. Our sons. We’re at our wits’ end. How can we tell them that their little sister cut a man’s throat? A man who had raped her.’

‘I do understand that.’

‘Poor child. What she’s been through!’

‘We should go to her now.’

‘We just want her to be treated justly,’ said Konrád. ‘That man defiled her and she retaliated. That’s how we believe you should see the situation. It was self-defence. She had to defend herself. Simple as that.’