Redemption aka A Conspiracy of Faith

EPILOGUE

Carl was knackered. He dumped a folder on top of a pile in the corner.

Case closed. Solved and done.

Since Assad had sent the Serbian gorilla flying down the basement corridor, a lot of water had run under that particular bridge. Marcus Jacobsen’s people had taken care of the three most recent arsons, but the one from Rødovre in 1995 had been kicked back downstairs to Department Q. The continuing gang conflict was taking up too many resources for the third floor to be arsed with it.

Arrests had been made in Serbia and Denmark. Now all they needed were a couple of confessions. Carl reckoned they’d have a long wait. The Serbs they’d apprehended would rather molder in a Danish prison for fifteen years than get on the wrong side of those they had been working for.

The rest was up to the regional prosecutor.

He stretched and decided to grab a few minutes’ shut-eye in the flicker of the flatscreen. The drone of the news channel. Something about government ministers not being able to get on a bike without falling off again and breaking their bones.

Then the phone rang. Fucking contraption.

“We’ve got visitors, Carl,” said Marcus at the other end. “Could you come upstairs, all three of you?”

It was the middle of July, and it had been raining for ten days solid. The sun had gone into hibernation. What reason on earth could there possibly be to go upstairs? The third floor was just as dark as the basement.

He climbed the stairs without managing so much as a word to Rose and Assad. These god-awful holidays. Jesper was home all day and his girlfriend with him. Morten was away on a cycling trip with some bloke called Preben, and they seemed to be in no hurry to get back. In the meantime, they had a nurse looking after Hardy, and Vigga was traipsing around India in the company of a man who kept two meters of hair stashed in his turban.

And he was stuck here while Mona and her kids were off tanning in Greece. If only Assad and Rose had got their arses away somewhere, too, he could have spent the whole day with his feet up on the desk watching the Tour de France in peace.

Holidays were the pits. Especially when they weren’t his.

He glanced in the direction of Lis’s empty chair as they arrived on the third floor. Maybe she was away in that camper van again with her horny husband. Perhaps Ms. Sørensen ought to give that a try. A couple of weeks shagging in the back of a camper would surely put some life into even a mummified specimen like her.

He gave the old heron a restrained wave and was given the finger in return. Very sophisticated. Miserable cow.

He opened the door of Marcus Jacobsen’s office and found himself face-to-face with a woman he failed to recognize.

“Carl,” said Marcus from behind his desk. “Mia Larsen is here with her husband to thank the three of you in person.”

Only then did Carl notice the man standing slightly apart. He knew his face instantly. The man from outside the burning house in Roskilde. Kenneth, the one who rescued Mia from the blaze. He looked again at the woman standing so sheepishly in front of him. Was this really the same person?

Rose and Assad extended their hands in greeting. Carl hesitantly followed suit.

“I do apologize,” said the young woman. “I know how busy you must be, but I wanted to thank you personally for saving my life.”

They stood for a moment and stared at each other. Carl was at a loss for words.

“I would not wish to say it was nothing, if I may say so,” said Assad.

“Me neither,” Rose added.

The others laughed.

“How are you getting on now? OK?” Carl asked.

Mia took a deep breath and bit her lip for a moment. “I’d like to know how the two children are doing. Samuel and Magdalena, wasn’t that what they were called?”

Carl raised his eyebrows. “To be honest, there’s no real way of knowing. The two oldest, the boys, moved away from home. I think Samuel’s doing OK. As for Magdalena and her two sisters, the congregation took care of them, so I heard. Maybe it’s for the best, who knows. Losing both parents like that must be almost unbearable.”

Mia nodded. “I understand. My former husband caused a lot of suffering. If there’s anything I can do for the girl, I’d very much like to.” She tried to smile, only for more words to come instead. “Losing your parents is a terrible thing, of course. But for a mother to lose her child is unbearable, too.”

Marcus Jacobsen placed his hand on her arm. “We’re still working on that, Mia. The police are doing everything they can with the information you’ve given us. It’ll pay off, I’m certain of it. No one can keep a child hidden away in this country forever, believe me.”

Her head dropped as the word “forever” sank in. Carl would have put it differently.

The young man at Mia’s side now spoke. “We want you to know how grateful we are,” he said, his gaze fixed on Carl and Assad. “The uncertainty is tearing Mia apart, but that’s another matter.”

This poor couple. Why not just say it like it was? Four months had passed, and the boy still hadn’t been found. The proper resources hadn’t been allocated in the various systems, and now it was probably too late.

“We haven’t much to go on,” said Carl tentatively. “Your former husband’s sister is called Eva, that much we think we know. But what about her surname? His, too, for that matter? It could be anything at all. We’re not even sure of his first name. In fact, we know precious little about your former husband or his past. All we know is that his and Eva’s father was a pastor somewhere. Eva wouldn’t be that uncommon a name for a clergyman’s daughter. We know she’s about forty years old, but apart from that, nothing. We’ve got Benjamin’s picture on display at every police station in the country, and my colleagues have informed the social authorities to be on the lookout. That’s where we are right now.”

She nodded, trying not to be disheartened by what Carl was saying.

Kenneth held a bunch of roses up in front of him and explained that Mia spent every day trawling the Internet and everywhere else for church newsletters or newspaper articles that might contain a picture of her former husband’s father. It had become a full-time activity, and if she ever found anything they would be the first to know.

And then he thrust the flowers toward Carl with their thanks.

After they had gone, Carl stood for a moment with the bouquet in his hand and a funny taste in his mouth. Forty bloodred roses, at least. He wished they were for someone else.

He shook his head. No way was he going to have them on his desk. But he wasn’t about to give them to Rose and Yrsa, either. There was no telling what the consequences might be.

Instead, he dumped the bouquet on the counter in front of Ms. Sørensen as they went by. “Thank you so much for holding the fort, Ms. Sørensen,” was all he said, leaving her in a flurry of confusion and inarticulate protest.

The three of them exchanged glances as they went down the stairs.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” he said, nodding.

They needed to put out a bulletin to all relevant authorities to be on the lookout for a child of Benjamin’s age and description suddenly popping up somewhere unexpectedly. The same bulletin, in fact, that had already been put out once. Only this time with the additional instruction to the leading officials of these authorities to take care of the matter personally.

That would at least ensure the search was made a priority and delegated to the appropriate persons in a hurry.

In the last two weeks, Benjamin had learned at least fifty new words, and Eva could hardly keep up.

It was only to be expected. They chatted so much together, the two of them, for Eva loved the little boy more dearly than anything in the world. They were a family now, and her husband felt the same way.

“What time are they coming?” he asked for the tenth time that day. He had been busy for hours. Hoovering, baking bread, getting Benjamin ready. It all had to be perfect.

She smiled. How their lives had changed since the boy had come to them.

“They’re here now. I can hear the car. Give Benjamin to me, Villy.”

She felt the boy’s soft cheek against her own.

“Some people are coming to tell us if we can keep you, Benjamin,” she whispered in his ear. “I think we can. Do you want to stay with us, my darling? Do you want to stay with Eva and Villy?”

He pressed himself against her chest. “Eva,” he said, and chuckled.

She sensed him pointing toward the entrance, from where the sound of voices now came. “Someone here,” he said.

Eva cuddled him, then adjusted her clothes. Villy had told her to keep her eyes closed so as not to unnerve them. She took a deep breath, said a prayer, and gave the boy a little squeeze.

“Everything will be all right,” she whispered.

The voices were friendly. She recognized them. These were the people whose job it was to assess the case. They had been there before.

They came over to greet her. Their hands were kind and warm. They said hello to Benjamin, then sat down a little way off.

“Well, Eva. We’ve reviewed matters, and obviously you and Villy are not the most typical of applicants. Having said that, however, we can tell you right away that we’ve decided to disregard your visual handicap. There are a number of precedents where blind people have been approved as adoptive parents, and as far as functionality and your basic approach to this goes, we certainly don’t consider your impairment to be any significant obstacle.”

She felt something release inside her. No significant obstacle. Her prayers had been answered.

“We’re very impressed by how much income you’ve been able to put aside. That demonstrates to us that you can manage your finances better than most. Moreover, we’ve given you a big plus for losing so much weight in such a short time, Eva. Twenty-five kilos in three months, Villy tells us. That’s amazing. Well done, indeed. You look fantastic.”

Now she felt warmth spreading through her body. Her skin tingled. Even Benjamin felt it.

“Eva’s nice,” the boy exclaimed. She felt him wave at the two women. Villy said he looked so irresistibly cute when he did that. God bless him.

“You’ve a lovely home here. A secure and caring home for a child to grow up in.”

“And of course, Villy’s new job counts on the positive side, too,” the other woman added. A huskier, more mature voice. “You don’t think it’ll be a problem for you, him not being home as much during the day?”

Eva smiled. “You mean, will I be able to cope with Benjamin on my own? Well, I’ve been blind since I was a young girl. But I don’t think there are many sighted people who can see as well as me.”

“How do you mean?” said the deeper of the two voices.

“Isn’t it all about sensing the needs of others? I know Benjamin’s needs even before they arise. I can tell what people are feeling by their voices. For example, you’re very happy at the moment. I sense a profound smile, deep in your heart. Has something happened in your life just recently to make you this happy?”

The two women chuckled. “Well, now you mention it, I became a grandmother only this morning.”

Eva offered her congratulations, then answered a lot of questions of a practical nature. She was in no doubt now that despite her handicap and their relatively advanced ages their application would be approved and sent on for further assessment. It was what they had been hoping for. Now they had got this far, their chances would be considerable.

“At the moment, we’re talking about approval as foster parents. Until we know what’s happened to your brother, that’s as far as we can go under the circumstances. But I think with that proviso we can consider this to be the first step toward formal adoption.”

“When was it you said you last heard from your brother?” the first woman asked. It was perhaps the fifth time during their two interviews that she had asked the same question.

“We’ve not heard from him since March, when he left Benjamin with us. As we’ve explained, our fear is that Benjamin’s mother passed away due to illness. My brother told us she was seriously ill.” Eva made the sign of the cross. “He had a very brooding nature, my brother. If Benjamin’s mother is dead, then I’m afraid he might well have chosen to go with her.”

“We haven’t been able to establish the identity of Benjamin’s mother. The civil registration number on the birth certificate you gave us is illegible. Has the document been in contact with water or something?”

She gave a shrug.

“It certainly looks like it. It was like that when he gave it to us,” said her husband from the corner of the room.

“It seems Benjamin’s parents were just living together. There’s no record of your brother ever having been married, at least not if we’ve got the right civil registration number. In fact, your brother seems to be a man of considerable mystery. We can see he applied to join the commando forces, but after that it’s as if all information about him stops.”

“Yes,” she said and nodded. “Like I said, he had a very brooding nature. He never let us in on anything.”

“And yet he left Benjamin in your care.”

“Yes.”

“Benjamin and Eva,” said the little boy and climbed down onto the floor.

She heard him totter across the carpet.

“My car,” he said. “My car big. Good car.”

“He’s obviously thriving,” said the deeper voice. “Very advanced for his age.”

“Yes, he takes after his grandfather there. He was a very clever man.”

“Yes, you’ve told us about your background, Eva. Your father was a pastor not far from here, wasn’t he? A highly respected man, I understand.”

“Eva’s father was a magnificent human being,” Villy said in the background. Eva smiled. He always said that, though he had never met him.

“My teddy,” said Benjamin. “Good teddy. Teddy got blue ribbon.”

They all chuckled.

“Our father gave us a good Christian upbringing,” Eva went on. “Villy and I would like to bring Benjamin up in the same spirit, if the authorities allow us to keep him. My father’s approach to life will be our guideline.”

She could sense how this pleased them. There was warmth in their silence.

“You’ll need to go through a preparatory course over two weekends, before the Adoption Council comes in and makes its assessment. Obviously, that can go either way, but on the big issues my feeling is you’re in better shape than the majority, so…”

But now she sensed that something was wrong, as though all warmth had suddenly been sucked out of the room. Even Benjamin had stopped what he was doing.

“Look,” he said. “Light. Blue.”

“I think it’s the police outside,” said Villy. “I wonder if there’s been an accident.”

The thought that it might be something to do with her brother flashed through her mind. Then she heard the voices in the entrance, her husband’s protests, his anger.

She heard footsteps enter the living room, the two women rising from their seats and stepping back.

“Is that him, Mia?” a man’s voice asked. An unfamiliar voice.

Then whispers. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like the man was explaining something to the two women with whom she had been speaking.

Her husband raised his voice in the entrance. Why didn’t he come in?

Then she heard a younger woman crying. Across the room to begin with, then closer.

“In God’s name, will someone tell me what’s going on?” she begged.

She sensed Benjamin approach. He took her hand and she felt his knee on her lap. She picked him up.

“Eva Bremer, we’re from the Odense Police. We’re here with Benjamin’s mother. She wants to take Benjamin home.”

She held her breath. Prayed to God for them all to go away. Prayed that He might let her wake from this nightmare.

They came toward her, and now she heard the woman speak to the boy.

“Hi, Benjamin,” she said in a trembling voice. A voice that wasn’t supposed to be there. A voice Eva wanted to go away. “It’s Mummy. Do you remember Mummy?”

“Mummy,” said Benjamin. He seemed anxious and clung to Eva.

“Mummy,” he said again, and hugged her tighter. “No.”

The room fell silent. For a moment, Eva heard only the boy’s breathing. The breathing of a child she loved more dearly than her own life.

And then the breathing of another. As heavy and as frightened as Benjamin’s own. She listened and felt her hands begin to shake as she clutched the boy to her chest.

She heard the breathing of another person, and then she heard her own.

Three people, all breathing heavily. In shock, and in fear of the moment that was to follow.

She held the child tightly in her arms. Held her breath so as not to weep. Held him so tightly they were almost as one.

And then she relaxed. She took his little hand and held it in her own. For a moment, she fought back her tears. Then she reached out her hand with the little boy’s inside it and heard her voice as if from afar.

“Mia. Was that your name?”

She heard the trembling reply: “Yes.”

“Come here, Mia. Come over here, so we can feel who you are.”