The Water's Edge

CHAPTER 42

Wilfred Arent Brein was not a handsome man. Nature had not been kind to him. He had a gaunt face and thin lips devoid of colour. He was conscious of his shortcomings and it showed; his eyes were evasive and changed, at times, to a sullen look.

'I was promised something to eat,' he began.

Sejer was reminded of a stray dog begging.

'Oh?' he said. 'Were you? We'll see to it. Presently.'

He sent Brein a questioning look. 'You haven't eaten much recently?'

Brein scowled at him. 'I think you owe me an explanation.' He tried to sound assertive, but there was not much strength left in his feeble voice.

Sejer leafed through a pile of papers on the table, checked the time and read a few sentences on a document.

'Why haven't you been eating?'

'Surely it's my own business how much I eat,' Brein said. He jerked his head. It was a repetitive, nervous twitch.

'Of course,' Sejer said. 'I was just expressing concern. You've been having problems?'

'I live with a great deal of pain,' he said. 'I have done for years. Some days all I can do is lie on the sofa and groan. But you need to explain to me why I'm sitting here,' he added. 'You owe me that much.'

'I owe you nothing,' Sejer said, 'for the time being. If it turns out I've made a mistake, you'll get an apology. So far I haven't made a mistake.' Then, in a friendly voice, 'Did you know Jonas August?'

Brein jumped instantly. He had not meant to, he knew he had to be strong to save himself, but the boy's name rang like a bell in his ears and he shuddered. The room they were in was white, bare and windowless. The table, which separated them, had yellowed with age and the varnish had started to peel. There was something shabby about the furniture, as though it had been bought from some second-hand shop. On the ceiling a fluorescent tube cast a garish light over the stone floor. A camera had been placed in a corner of the ceiling. The lens followed him like an evil, foreboding eye. Sejer repeated his question.

'Did you know Jonas August?'

'I think you need to explain why I'm here,' Brein said again.

'You have no idea why you've been arrested?'

'No. I mean, come on. You can't just pick up people and put them in a cell like this,' he complained.

'Yes,' Sejer said, 'we can and I'm happy to get straight to the point. Let's not waste time; after all, you're hungry. This is about Jonas August Løwe. He was found on the fourth of September up at Linde Forest. The forensic pathologist has established that he was subjected to a violent attack, which caused his death, and we can link you to the crime with irrefutable evidence. Did you know him?'

Brein shook his head in disbelief. He was still unable to grasp the situation. Sejer's confidence frightened him, his composure and authority were menacing.

'Irrefutable evidence?' he stammered. 'No, I don't believe that.'

'DNA,' Sejer explained.

Brein rummaged around his memory feverishly, but he failed to see the connection.

'I haven't given you a sample,' he said. 'You're trying to entrap me.'

'You're already trapped. And if you're interested in telling your side of the story, then now is your chance. It's your best option. Jonas August didn't have that chance.'

Brein shook his head again. 'This is some sort of trick.'

'No,' Sejer said, 'it's very simple.' He changed tack. 'Did you know him?'

'I didn't kill those boys,' Brein said.

'I didn't say you had.'

'But that's what you're thinking. You think that I killed Jonas and Edwin, but I didn't!'

'We want to make sure we find out what really happened,' Sejer said. 'In order for us to do that, you need to work with us.'

'All right. But then you have to believe me, because I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know Jonas,' he said. 'I had only seen him a few times walking along the road, a little lad with skinny legs and trousers that were too big for him.'

He started digging a nail into a dent in the table. While he talked he avoided meeting Sejer's scrutinising eyes.

'I can't deny that I've been driving around looking at the kids,' he said, 'and pay attention to what I said. Looking at them, that's all. I know what you're thinking, but you're completely wrong.'

'You know nothing about what I think,' Sejer said. 'Go on.'

'I can't help that I'm attracted to children,' Brein said. 'I've always been like that. But I was too scared to tell anyone – you probably know this already. So I kept it all to myself, and that was very hard. It was a lot to handle for a small boy, because I was only ten when I started to have these feelings. There was a boy at the farm next to ours, and I was in love with him, he was only six, and I didn't know what to do with myself when he was around. I was all over the place.'

'So what did you do?' Sejer asked.

'I would watch him in secret,' he said. 'I would dream and fantasise. Needs must.'

'So you prefer boys?'

'Yes,' Brein said. 'Boys. I like their small bodies and their delicate limbs. I like that they are frightened and shy, I like everything about them, I like the smell and the sound and the taste of them.' He was growing more animated, his cheeks were gaining colour.

'How do they taste?' Sejer wanted to know. His face was deathly serious.

'Well, what can I say?' He shook his head. 'Like green apples.'

His words were followed by silence. The only noise was a low humming from the fluorescent tube on the ceiling.

'Can I smoke in here?' he asked hopefully.

'No.'

Sejer's reply was followed by another silence and Sejer waited. It would take time to uncover the truth, but he did not mind because he wanted to know. He wanted to map the crime down to the smallest detail. He wanted to measure and weigh it, turn and twist it, view it from every possible angle. His heart was beating calmly. He felt in control, in here he reigned supreme, in here he was, as Skarre put it, the man who could charm the birds off a tree.

'Were there any episodes you found particularly difficult when you were growing up?' he asked. 'It's quite all right to talk about such things.'

Brein gave him a despondent look. 'Everything was difficult,' he said. 'It was when I entered my teens that the trouble really started. Isn't it about time you got yourself a girlfriend, young man? You know what aunts and uncles are like.'

'I do.'

'So, of course, I was isolated,' Brein went on. 'I didn't fit in. I spent a lot of time on my own. Besides, I felt deeply ashamed about it all. People can't be serious when they tell us we need to come forward with our feelings, they've no idea how bad it is.'

'Yes,' Sejer said. 'I have an idea how bad it is.'

'I can only dream about what the rest of you take for granted,' Brein said.

'No one can take love for granted,' Sejer corrected him.

'No?'

'The world is full of people who watch the happiness of others from the sidelines.'

Brein rolled his eyes. 'Look around you,' he snorted. 'There are couples everywhere, walking down the street wrapped around each other; I can hardly bear to look at them.'

'Many walk alone,' Sejer countered. 'You're not the only one who is single. But perhaps you harbour an illusion that everyone else is granted everything their heart desires. It's not like that. What was your childhood like?'

'It was bad,' Brein said bitterly. 'And I don't mean to make excuses for myself, but it's only right that someone should know how bad it was. Perhaps you think my parents used to beat me, but they never raised a hand to me, it was far worse. There was coldness and hostility. My mum was always angry, it poured out of her in one constant, nagging stream. And she made so much noise, she slammed doors, she stomped around the house, her backside was the size of a rhinoceros. And she had a bizarre notion that you should always tell the truth, because she didn't want to be two-faced. So she always spoke her mind. It was the truth at all costs, in every situation. The truth in the shop, the truth across the fence to the neighbour, to door-to-door salesmen and to me. That I wasn't much to look at, that I wasn't all that bright. She scolded me and my dad. He would jump at the smallest chance to get out of the house. He would invent errands because he couldn't cope with her ranting. And they looked odd, the pair of them. Mum's build was coarse, loud and masculine, while dad was delicate and effeminate. It was like something was always brewing in the house, if you get my drift. And sometimes she would lock me out. I mean if I came home late, if she had told me a time and I had missed it, then I had to sit on the doorstep until she deigned to let me in. She would look at me, feign surprise and say, what are you doing out here? One winter, I actually froze to the top step. Another time I gave up thinking she would let me in at all, so I went down to the cellar. I spent the night there on some old sacks.' He let his hands flop helplessly. 'That was tough for a small boy.'

'Is she still alive?' Sejer asked.

'She got cancer,' he said. 'Her body was riddled with it, tumours everywhere. One of them was in the corner of her eye, it was pressing on her eye, it was disgusting. It looked like it might explode at any time. I didn't know where to look. You might say she was being punished for her neglect and betrayal, because she lay there for over a year, in great pain. I don't know how many hours I spent by her bedside, waiting. Listening to her breathing and hoping with all my heart that she would die. But she always pulled through and there would be more moaning and pain. I remember her last moments vividly. I was dozing on a chair. Suddenly she opened her eyes and screamed 'That's enough!' She twitched one last time and then she was gone.'

'How did you relieve your desire?' Sejer asked. 'I presume you found a way?'

He folded his hands on the table. His fingers were long and thin with sharp knuckles.

'I used pictures which I found in magazines, pictures of young boys. In PJs or swimming trunks. I made do with that. But once I was an adult I took a decision. I was adamant that I would have a proper life, like everyone else. I wanted to be like everyone else, it was crucial to me. I have some relatives up north, in Kirkenes. On a trip to see them I met a Russian lady. A lot of Russians cross the border for all sorts of reasons, but Irina had come to sell embroideries. Russian women really know how to sew.'

He glanced quickly up at Sejer as though looking for signs of contempt, but all he found was gravity and patience.

'We got talking,' he said, 'and I offered to buy her a cup of tea, and we talked for hours. Three months later we were married, and we had two daughters.'

'Are you still in touch with them?'

'No.'

'Have you tried to stay in touch?'

'Yes, of course, I have no one else. But I think Irina must have painted me in a bad light because they don't seem to be very interested. I wonder what she has told them. I haven't dared ask.'

'What are they called? How old are they?'

'Rita and Nadia, they're nineteen and twenty-two.'

'Do you miss them?'

Brein sighed. 'You know how it is. They don't want to know someone like me. They're great girls, but it's best that I stay away.'

'Is that what you think? That you should hide away?'

'Yes,' he replied, 'that's what I think. And that's what you think, too. People would drive us into the sea, given the chance.'

Sejer looked at him calmly. 'There are clear reasons why you have developed this tendency,' he said, 'and it hasn't been established yet whether you need to be ashamed of it. A few things have been beyond your control; that applies to all of us. However, it could be argued, as far as the law is concerned, that you have a duty to take some precautions. And you didn't take them, did you?' Sejer looked at him closely. 'Jonas August is dead.'

Brein nodded. 'I just can't bear it,' he whispered.

'What happened to your marriage?' Sejer asked.

'It went down the drain, obviously,' he said. 'You know I had other needs. I felt I was playing a game, that I was false and miserable. And Irina felt neglected. So a distance was created between us and it grew over the years. I suppressed my real feelings until I was worn out. You don't know what it's like,' he groaned. 'It's exhausting.'

Sejer nodded.

'One morning she packed her suitcase and left,' he said, 'and I was all alone again. It was as if all ties were severed, I was cut adrift, I had nothing to hold on to. I was furious and angry and scared, I couldn't see straight. Other people don't have to worry,' he said. 'They're proud of how they feel, they think their feelings are good. That's what I think of mine. I would sit in my car and watch the kids from afar, while I daydreamed and fantasised.'

'You used to wait outside Solberg School, didn't you?'

'Yes. I liked the moment when the bell went and they poured out into the playground, like sweets out of a bag.'

'But you never touched them,' Sejer said. 'You only rolled down your window and talked to them?'

'I restrained myself,' Brein said. 'I'm forty-seven years old and I've always restrained myself. I just want you to know that.'

'You never invited them into your car?'

'I didn't dare,' he said. 'I couldn't trust myself completely. I would drive home and sit alone in my living room, alone with my longing. It's hard. It's like something inside is eating you up.'

'What was your job? Before you started receiving benefits?'

'I was a care assistant,' Brein said. 'I used to look after people. I really liked my job, I felt I mattered. But then the accident happened. I was knocked down on a crossing and injured. That was eight years ago. Since then I've spent a lot of time indoors. My only social life is the odd trip to the shops. And I watch telly all the time.'

'What was different about Jonas August?' Sejer asked. 'You finally made a choice; you invited him into your car. Tell me about it.'

Brein gripped the table.

'Yes,' he said. 'I'll tell you how it was. I'm fed up with all these rumours, that I'm a serial killer and worse, there are no limits to the stories in the papers. I drove around aimlessly. It wasn't the case that I had a plan, but I had a moment of weakness. I had passed Solberg Hill, I had just reached the forest and it was very quiet. No people, no cars, just green fields of kale. There is little traffic on that stretch of the road. I passed a few farms and houses, but apart from that I felt all alone. By that I mean all alone in the world. Anyone who is different is also lonely. For ever. I drove quite slowly, and I thought how lovely the scenery was. Perhaps you don't think people like me notice those kinds of things, that we only have one thing on our minds, but that's not the case.'

'Don't underestimate me,' Sejer said.

Brein looked up with a sudden smile. His smile made his eyes shine. It softened his features, and in a flash Sejer saw that there was another side to Brein. A side which would seem appealing to a child.

'I spotted a small boy in red shorts,' he said. 'He was walking on the right hand side of the road and he was holding a stick. I was struck by the thought that the boy belonged to me, that providence had sent him and that I would finally be granted what I had longed for my whole life. I noticed how skinny he was, almost fragile, like spun sugar. We were at the bottom of the hill. When he heard the car, he stopped and stepped on to the verge while staring at me with his huge blue eyes. You know how kids stare at you, they ignore all boundaries. Do you know that feeling?'

'I do,' Sejer said.

' "You got far to go?" I asked him. He shook his head. "I live just up there," he said, "at the top of the hill, in the white house with the veranda." "Would you do me a favour?" I asked him, and yes, he would be happy to. I told him that the engine was playing up, that I had to look under the bonnet. Please would he get in and press the accelerator? He nodded enthusiastically. He threw the stick aside and got into the driver's seat. He struggled to reach the accelerator, but he was so proud of the job he had been entrusted with, and when he had revved the engine for a while and I had checked that everything was working all right, I offered to drive him home. Saves you having to walk up that hill, I tempted him. He thought about it for a while, as if he was weighing up the pros and cons. I could see how his mother's warnings were going through his head, but I flashed him my most brilliant smile and it made him drop his guard. He shifted over to the passenger side. And I was where I had always wanted to be: alone with a small boy. And it was overwhelming.' Brein paused. His gaze had reached the camera in the ceiling and his eyes filled with indignation.

'I asked him what his name was. Jonas August Løwe. A handsome name for a handsome boy, I said. That made him laugh a little, he was proud of his name, that was clear to see. I made him feel at ease and you may not believe me, but that's what I wanted to do.'

'I believe you,' Sejer said.

'Why don't we go for a ride? I suggested. Let's see what this old banger is good for. I pretended to be in a good mood. He agreed. He had no other plans and I could feel that he liked me, kids do, I'm good at talking to them, I make them feel they matter. I never experienced that feeling myself when I was a boy. Shortly afterwards we passed his house and he pointed out of the window. That's our house, he said, that's where I live with my mum. I raced brazenly past the house. It was him and me, and nothing could stop me now. You should have seen him when we reached Granås, he was trailing me like a puppy.'

Brein looked up. He had talked himself warm and the nervous twitches had subsided.

'He spotted the wheelchair the moment we entered the living room. Yes, it used to be Mum's, you've probably guessed that by now, I haven't got round to returning it. He asked if he could have a go and I said yes. So he rolled up and down the living room while I watched him from the sofa. He had a great time with that chair. You can imagine how kids are fascinated by such things. I told him I could teach him to balance on two wheels, if he wanted me to. I was getting really excited, I don't mind admitting that, I had never been so close to a boy, but I was also getting desperate. I could tell where this was going and I was scared the people in the farmhouse might be able to see us, you know, the farmer who is my landlord, or his wife. Or his daughters, he's got four of them, or even the Poles in the barn. So I hardly dared breathe.'

Brein brushed his hair away from his forehead. There is something theatrical about the movement. He clearly wants to come across as a tortured soul and I suppose he is, Sejer thought, anyone who ends up in this room is a tortured soul, they're here because someone wronged them.

'I had some Coke in the fridge,' Brein said, 'and he wanted some of it. We sat next to each other on the sofa and chatted. He answered all my questions with a voice as clear as a bell, he was so modest, he was so obedient. His thighs were so thin and I could see his round knees, I remember thinking that they would fit my hand exactly. So I raised my hand and placed it carefully on his knee. And you may not appreciate this, but it was a very special moment for me.'

'How did he react?' Sejer asked.

'He sat upright like a burning candle. He looked down at my hand and I saw no alarm or anxiety, merely wonder. His skin was golden, covered by downy hairs. As I sat there, I was overcome by dread, that he would tear himself loose and run to the door. There was nothing in the world I dreaded more than losing what I had finally found. And though I didn't want to hurt him, I lost control. And my conscience did trouble me a little, but I brushed it aside. I thought it would all be over in a minute, after which I would take care of him and drive him home, you know, look after him in every possible way.

'I pushed him down on the sofa and pulled off his shorts. At that moment I heard something clatter on to the floor, but I couldn't work out what it was. And then I had my way with him. I just took what I wanted. When I came round, and it was all over, something happened.'

'What happened, Brein?'

Brein rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and when he looked up, they were red and raw.

'He started wheezing,' he whispered. 'While I sat there looking at him, he turned blue.'

'And what did you do?'

'Nothing. I panicked.'

'Go on, Brein,' Sejer said.

'He started scrambling around the sofa,' Brein said, 'as though he was looking for something.'

'Jonas August was struggling to breathe,' Sejer said, 'and you sat there watching him and you did nothing. How long before he lost consciousness?'

'Not long. I could hear something was wrong. And then he flung himself off the sofa and started fumbling around the floor, and I was upset because I didn't understand what was going on. Then he collapsed and lay still. I hid in a corner. I had no idea what to do.'

'What was he looking for, Brein? What was it that had fallen out of the pocket of his shorts?'

'An inhaler,' he whispered. 'I found it under the sofa.'

'Jonas August had asthma.'

'I know that now. But,' he put on a distraught face, 'it's too late.'

Sejer started walking around the room, all the time keeping his gaze pinned on Brein.

'Jonas August died in your presence,' he said. 'The one thing that could have saved him was lying under your sofa?'

'Yes.'

'You just sat there watching him struggling to breathe?'

'Yes.'

'You never once thought of calling someone or running out of the house to get help? This you have to explain to me.'

'I can't explain it. I felt cold all over. What will I be charged with?' he asked. 'Can you tell me that? It won't be murder, will it? Can you give me an idea of what my sentence will be?'

'Did it never occur to you that you had to save him?'

'You can't blame me for that.' Brein said. 'I had a panic attack.'

Sejer suddenly felt tired. He sat down in his chair again and closed his eyes.

'The charges aren't ready yet,' he said. 'You'll be told later.'

Brein gave him an expectant look. 'I was promised some food.'

'And you shall have some,' Sejer said. 'But don't ask me for sympathy,' he added. 'Talk to your defence lawyer. He's on his way.'

Now it was Brein's turn to get up from his chair. He positioned himself by the wall and his face was defiant.

'Perhaps you're the one who needs sympathy,' he said.

Sejer frowned.

'You're only halfway there and you know it. I never laid a finger on Edwin Åsalid.'