The Drowned Boy

3

Maybe he’d been killed, thrown in the pond, unwanted by his mother, Sejer thought. Or by his father, or both. A child who was different, a deviant — perhaps in some people’s eyes, a loser. A sudden rage, a mean thought, an urge to destroy. Or was he seeing ghosts in broad daylight? The door into the garden was open. There was no one watching the boy and he tottered out of the house and across the dry grass on his plump little legs, walking the short distance from the house to the jetty. Drawn by the glittering water that lay like a mirror in front of him. I’m not being prejudiced, Sejer thought. I must take absolutely every possibility into consideration. I’ve done this job long enough, that’s how I work. Anything is possible in this case. A simple, clear rule that always helped him focus. Too many bitter experiences, he thought, and I don’t like to be duped or lied to. As he drove, he thought about his parents again, and all that they had given him as a little boy. Love and understanding, leniency. Encouragement and confidence, an understanding that life was not easy, for better or for worse. Careful now, he said to himself; they’re probably both innocent. But Skarre had expressed clear concern. He thought about it and what it might mean. Intuition was important and definitely had a role to play in every investigation. Having a feeling about something, the seed of suspicion that something is wrong. It might be a lack of eye contact or a strange distance to what had happened. A body that won’t be still, restless and nervous hands, a monotone voice when giving a statement. The sequence of events rattled off as if learned by rote, a kind of planned version. A hand that constantly dabs the eyes to dry imaginary tears or, for that matter, real tears. Because everything had gone so terribly wrong, with or without blame. Or horror that an emotion could be so catastrophic. I’m going to kill you now because it’s unbearable. I can’t stand this child, can’t cope with this child, and other impossible emotions. All these different signs of lies. And a depressing thought kept coming back. The child had Down syndrome. Another reason for this unease. Even though the public prosecutor would only consider the facts of the case, these gut instincts were incredibly important. They were based on the experience that they had built up over all their years with the police. Skarre had noticed some nuances that he couldn’t explain, that had made him think twice. Sejer took this seriously because Skarre was smart. And pretty good in his observations. Two parents sitting in the station crying their hearts out, but were they tears of loss and grief, or were they tears of shock and panic because they were guilty?

He started to think about the recurring dizzy spells again. I’ll have to bite the bullet, he thought, and haul my decrepit body off to the doctor. It’s all downhill from here. Then I’ll have to endure a whole raft of tests and the nerve-racking wait. Maybe there really is something terribly wrong with me, and life as I’ve known it until now is — well, maybe it’s over. The word cancer popped up in his thoughts again, thoughts that would not let him be. He suddenly felt the need for moral support and dialed the number of his daughter Ingrid, to tell her about the incident at Damtjern.

“Hi, Ingrid, it’s me. Yes, I’m in the car. Yes, yes, I’m using the hands-free; don’t be silly. We’ve found a little boy. He was lying in a pond up by Granfoss. His mother found him by the jetty. Just over a year. It’s so sad. Yes, exactly, I’m on my way to the station. I’m going to talk to the parents. Maybe I’ll drop by afterward, if that’s all right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course that’s all right. And how are you otherwise, Dad?”

She meant the dizziness. He said he was sure it would pass and it was just a matter of patience. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with such a vague answer.

“It’ll pass? Don’t give me happily ever after; I’m too old for that. I know you,” she continued, “you’re not telling me everything. But you don’t need to spare me; remember that I’ve been through a lot. And just so you know, I can stomach the truth.”

She was referring to her stint as a nurse in war-torn Somalia with her husband, Erik, who specialized in acute medicine. When they came back home, after working there for several years, they had a boy with them. Sejer’s only grandchild was now a promising young dancer with the National Ballet School.

“OK,” he said. “I promise, I won’t spare you. And yes, I am still dizzy. I mean, every now and then. But I promise I’m going to do something about it, once and for all.” He was at the railroad crossing in the center of town, and the barrier was down. While he sat and waited for the train to pass, he thought about the little boy again. What Skarre had said was right. If this was actually murder, and it was the mother who had done it, she would get off lightly. That special bond between mother and child, so many mitigating circumstances, so many possible explanations. Non compos mentis, he thought, not of sound mind. Personality disorders, psychosis, depression, and other complaints. There was so much to choose from. A freight train with dark red cars finally thundered past. He listened to the steady rhythm of the wheels and the rattling of iron and metal, and he counted the cars, as he had done since childhood.

He could not help but think of a dandelion head with its delicate white pappi, because her hair was almost as white as snow. He was also struck by how slight she was, thin and fragile as a twig. A child with a child, he thought. It was incredible that she had managed to give birth to a baby at all.

“Come with me,” he said in a reassuring voice. “Let’s go to my office; it’s just a bit farther down the corridor.”

She got to her feet and then saw the dog. Frank stood up on his hind legs, wanting to say hello. She stroked him gingerly on the head, but she seemed to be elsewhere. The catastrophe had drained her of color and she had dark rings under her eyes.

“If he bothers you, I’ll put him in the car,” Sejer said. “But usually he settles down; he doesn’t normally make a fuss.”

She shook her head. But she did keep looking at the dog, as if he touched something in her, some longing.

“What is your name?” he asked as kindly as he could, as they walked down the corridor.

“Carmen,” she replied. “Carmen Cesilie Zita.”

Her name sounded familiar. And before he could ask, she had given him the answer.

“Yes,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “My father owns the fast-food place in Torggata. The one called Zita Quick. He’s had it for ten years, and we both work there. Well, I don’t really at the moment because Tommy’s still so little. But Nicolai does shifts there. We’re open all night.”

She paused and looked at Sejer with blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. “People come all the way from Oslo for our food,” she said proudly.

He opened the door to his office. Frank slipped in, went over to the blanket by the window, and lay down.

“Please, find yourself a chair,” he told her.

He studied the slight girl.

“My condolences, Carmen,” he added. “It’s terribly sad.”

He wanted to be friendly. Wanted to do everything right, in case she wasn’t guilty.

“Why can’t I be with Nicolai?” she asked. But the question was also a complaint and she sounded petulant. You don’t just plow your way into someone else’s life; you tiptoe in with care and respect. So he weighed his words carefully. He had considerable training.

“You have to be separated, as a matter of procedure,” he explained patiently. “I can understand if you might find it a bit brutal, but we automatically follow lots of rules and regulations, so there is absolutely no need to worry about it. We’re going to talk together for a while, and then afterward you can both go home to Granfoss. Oh, I see you didn’t take your mineral water with you. Shall I get you another one?”

She shook her head and sat down in a chair by the window. She wasn’t interested in the view; her eyes were fixed on her hands, which she had folded in her lap. But she glanced over at Frank every now and then. The dog lying on the gray blanket was obviously soothing.

“What was your little boy’s name?” he asked. “Tommy?”

He rolled his chair across the floor and sat down beside her.

“Yes, his name is Tommy Nicolai.”

She started to cry. And while she cried, he sat and waited patiently until the outburst was over.

“Now, let’s go through it all again,” he said. “Step by step. Exactly as it happened. You can tell me your own way, if you like. Or if you think that’s difficult, I can ask you questions.”

“Maybe you should ask questions,” she said. “Everything’s just chaos; it’s so hard to remember.”

“I understand,” Sejer assured her. “I’ll ask you questions then. Now tell me about the day. What were you doing when you discovered that Tommy had disappeared?”

He could see that she was rifling through her memory; her eyes darted around the room, returning to Frank again, who had fallen asleep on his blanket.

“Well, it was getting on for supper time. I’d decided we were going to have salmon. So that’s probably what I was doing, preparing the fish.”

“Probably? You’re not sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure. Don’t talk to me like I’m some stupid little girl.”

But she paused and didn’t seem certain at all. Sejer reminded himself that she was most likely in shock, so her memory would have gaps; he’d seen it before. Likewise, angry words would spill over in the heat of the moment.

“Do you feel uncertain, Carmen?” he asked again.

“The whole day is just a blur,” she said curtly. She wrung her hands. She was on guard; he knew the signs.

“And Tommy’s dad? What did you say his name was?”

“Nicolai Brandt. And we’re married. I know what you’re thinking, that we’re young and silly, and we lack judgment.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I would never think that. Where was Nicolai when it happened? Tell me.”

“He was down in the cellar repairing some old bikes. He earns a bit of money doing simple repairs and gets quite a few jobs. He loves messing around with bikes; he’s obsessed. So he wasn’t there when it happened. I was alone in the kitchen and Tommy was sitting on a blanket on the floor. He had no clothes on because it was so hot and I wanted him to get some air. He often gets very sweaty. I’d opened the back door to get a draft through.”

Sejer noted her body language and the pitch of her voice. She was now very focused and calm, as though she finally felt in control of the difficult situation. But her voice was monotonous, and he knew that this detail could signal distance. That she was keeping something terrible at a distance, which she simply couldn’t face.

“Then I had to go to the bathroom,” she continued. “A chore I had to do in there. It took awhile. And when I came back, he’d gone. He wasn’t sitting on his blanket, and the room was empty. Tommy has just learned to walk,” she explained, “and he’s pretty good. He can get quite far in a minute, and I’d been away for a while. First I ran into the bedroom. I even checked under the comforter, because, you see, I panicked right away. Then I ran out of the house and looked around. But I couldn’t see him anywhere — not in the sandbox, not behind the house. I couldn’t even bear to think about the pond. Even though it was a constant threat, I pushed it out of my mind. But I went down in the end, because I had to look everywhere. And then I saw him by the jetty. He was lying face down under the water. I threw myself into the water without even thinking. I managed to get him out onto the grass. And I shouted as loud as I could for Nicolai. Eventually he came running out in a panic. It was so strange, because I heard the screams, but I didn’t recognize my own voice. Do you know what I mean?”

She stopped talking and put her hand up to wipe away a stray tear.

“But we couldn’t revive him. He was gone. Nicolai called an ambulance and they came really fast, and they tried to revive him as well. They tried and tried for ages, maybe as long as an hour; you should have seen the effort they made. But it didn’t help. No matter what they did, Tommy was gone.”

Sejer sat and listened to the monotone explanation. He was observing her the entire time: her voice, her facial expression, and other signs. She could absolutely be telling the truth. Things like that had happened so many times before, younger and older children falling in the water, mostly when they were playing. But there was also a chance that she was putting it on, acting. She had a theatrical manner that was slightly artificial. And she was certainly very affected, concerned about her appearance and what people thought of her, because her back was straight and her chin tilted up.

“Was Tommy a healthy boy?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she said with some force. “Yes. He has Down syndrome, but apart from that he’s very healthy. He’s never been sick or anything like that. Well, actually, he did once get an ear infection. And his temperature rocketed, so we had to take him to the ER in the middle of the night. But then he was given some medicine and he got well right away. Well, after a couple of days, that is. But apart from that, nothing.”

“How did the fact that he had Down syndrome affect your daily life? Can you say a bit about that?”

“Well, you know, he needed a bit more help. They develop very slowly and they don’t learn as fast as other children,” she explained. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

“How was it to live in a house by Damtjern with a baby?” Sejer asked. “Were you constantly worried about the pond?”

She nodded and said that it was dangerous with such a young child to have a deep and alluring pond so close to the house.

“But we couldn’t go around being scared all the time,” she said. “After all, plenty of people live by the water. Children grow up by the sea. Two children in two years have drowned down by Stranda. I know things like that happen. And now it’s happened to us.”

“Yes,” he said and nodded. “What you’re saying is true, of course. But I’d like to ask you another question. You’re very young to be a mother. Was Tommy a wanted child? I mean, was he planned?”

“Yes, we wanted him,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t use anything, and neither did Nicolai. So we weren’t exactly surprised to find out I was pregnant. And I was so happy when I saw the test was positive. We were over the moon. We whooped and danced around the kitchen like kids. So, there’s your answer,” she added, with a wan smile. “Of course he was wanted. Wanted with all my heart, you have to believe me.”

“And then,” Sejer continued thoughtfully, “Tommy finally came into the world. Tell me about the pregnancy; what did it feel like to be pregnant? You’ve got such a slim figure and a baby is quite a weight to carry.”

“Oh no,” she livened up and spoke with enthusiasm. “Everything was great. It was an easy pregnancy, and I felt wonderful. Everyone said I looked great too. And I felt absolutely fine the whole time. I didn’t put on much weight either and Tommy only weighed six pounds. Nicolai teased us all the time. Said that Tommy looked like a little buttermilk pudding, all white and smooth.”

“What sort of baby was he?” Sejer asked. “Was he a happy baby?”

“Yes,” she said and nodded. “A very happy baby. He occasionally had trouble sleeping, but we coped. We took turns getting up at night. And sometimes we argued, but generally we coped well.”

“Did you breastfeed him?”

“No, no, I didn’t.”

“Why not? Did you not have milk?”

“I didn’t want to breastfeed,” she said sullenly. “You can see what I look like; I wasn’t made for that sort of thing.” She was referring to her flat chest, where two slight mounds were in evidence under the cropped, tight top.

He noticed a sudden fleeting reluctance, as if he had touched a sore point that she didn’t want to talk about. She clammed up and became unreachable. And he thought, as he looked at the small girl sitting beside him in her ripped jeans, that she was perhaps to blame for her son’s death. That she had done something improper, that she was guilty of a crime. Maybe the very worst kind. He thought like this out of habit; to be fair, it was a hazard of the job. Suspicion. To doubt people. Take nothing for granted. And at the same time he tried not to be judgmental. Then he wondered how, if this really was a murder case, they would ever manage to prove it when there were no witnesses? When the mother claimed that the toddler had gone down to the water on his own when no one was watching him. While she was in the bathroom. And a big filleted fish was lying on the counter.

“He was an adventurous little boy,” Carmen said. “He wanted to explore and look at everything. Inside the house he crawled around at the speed of light. It was hard to keep up with him,” she said, drying a tear. “I was always so worried that he might hurt himself.”

She was over the first hurdle now and could see things from a different angle, what had happened down by the water, the great tragedy. The words flowed easily and she said that she was not to blame and that it was an accident. Sejer made a mental note that she had distanced herself from the tragedy. She was able to keep it at arm’s length, for the moment at least. But it wouldn’t last long, he thought; reality would soon come crashing over her like a wave. What had happened, in all its horror, would stay with her. Every day for the rest of her life. And on the day that she herself lay dying, the day when she no longer had a future, she would think back and remember it in detail. The child face down in the black water.

“How long have you and Nicolai been living together?” he asked in a calm voice.

“Two years,” she replied. “But we’ve been together for four. I was only fifteen when we met. I had a boyfriend before him, but it only lasted for a month, because I couldn’t trust him. So it’s always been us. We work well together. Even though we’re very different, there’s no denying it.”

“Different in what way?”

“Nicolai is slow and methodical,” she said, “whereas I’m fast and impulsive, if you see what I mean.”

“Was he a good father?”

“Oh yes, the best. Much more patient than me. He never gets desperate or angry and he’s always kind. He’s not particularly quick. He’s more the careful kind, but he’s totally dependable.”

“And did he try to give first aid as well?”

“Yes, we both did. But we could see it was too late; we could see that he was blue. It was horrible. And Nicolai had to call for the ambulance because I was completely hysterical and couldn’t do anything. Can we refuse to have an autopsy?” she asked abruptly. “Sorry for asking, but it’s just such a horrible thought, because I know what they do, I’ve read about it in the papers. And I don’t want anyone poking around in Tommy’s body.”

Sejer noted her use of the phrase “poking around” and her aversion to closer examinations, but did not draw any conclusions. He had come across the problem before, often in relation to suicides or crib deaths. People wanted to bury their loved ones whole, which was perfectly understandable.

“But the autopsy will be very important,” he said. “It might give us lots of answers.”

“But I found him in the water,” she countered. “He drowned. The cause of death is obvious, so I don’t see the point.”

“Carmen,” Sejer said patiently, “this is what we call a sudden and unexpected death. And it is routine to do an autopsy. Take my word for it, he will be treated with the utmost care.”

This made her less willing to talk. She clammed up again and avoided catching his eye as she sat there twiddling a silver ring with a red stone around her finger. Maybe she was tired, or maybe she was nervous; it was hard to tell. Sejer, who was now more prone to suspect, started to push her a bit. There were no doubt far too many child murders that had never been proven and so wrongly filed as accidents. Children, as the most vulnerable in society, have a right to justice, he thought, once again touching on his childhood ideals. Everything that his father had taught him: law, truth, and justice.

“Can I call my dad?” she asked. “I have to call him and explain. They’ve only got me,” she added. “And Tommy is their only grandchild.”

Then she started crying again, bitter tears.

“I did have a sister, but she’s dead,” she explained. “And this will be too much for them. Dad’s got a bad heart and Mom’s just really nervous.”

“Carmen,” Sejer said in a calm voice, “you do have rights, and I’m not going to deny you any of them. But you must prepare yourself for some very difficult conversations. That’s just the way it is, but it is all done with the best intentions. Don’t be afraid; I’m sure we’ll manage to work this out together.”

She glanced over at Frank, who was still asleep on his blanket. And then she looked straight at Sejer again. Her eyes were fraught with doubt.

“Am I suspected of something?”

Sejer let her stew in uncertainty for a while. He had the same feeling as Skarre, that something was amiss. Her behavior was odd, given the tragedy, and this made him push her more.

“As I said, we need to find out exactly what happened,” he told her. “An officer will examine your house, but, again, it is simply a matter of routine. So you don’t need to worry.”

Carmen stared at him. “What? The house? He died in the pond. I don’t understand!” She burst into tears again and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “There’s nothing to see in the house,” she continued. “I don’t understand how you’re even allowed to do that. Examine the house! To look for what?”

Sejer got up from the chair, moving it so they were sitting face to face. Being confronted in this way made her even more uncertain and upset.

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to make a fuss,” she said. “I just think it’s all so weird. It’s hard to take in. Is it you who’s going to talk to Nicolai?”

“Yes, I will talk to Nicolai. To hear his version and see if it corresponds with yours. You do understand that’s how we have to work, don’t you?”

“But it does correspond,” she said hastily, about to start crying again. “You don’t think I’m sitting here lying, do you?”