– Actually nothing happens when Zako and I meet, Judith van Ravens assured her. – Not much, anyway, she corrected herself, – but my husband doesn’t have to know everything I do. He’s the suspicious type.
– What about the photo?
Judith van Ravens again stroked her cheeks, the movement continuing on up through her lustrous hair. – Zako called a few weeks ago. Asked for a favour. He wanted to surprise someone he knew, just for fun. I suppose that was probably you?
– Keep going.
– I was to take some pictures of a woman without her knowing it. I was given the name and address of an office. Waited outside in the car until she showed up. Followed her to a tram stop. She was with a man… It was a joke!
– When was this?
Judith van Ravens looked to be thinking about it. – Maybe three weeks ago. The end of last month. We flew to Houston the week after.
Three weeks fitted with the date Liss had noted in Zako’s flat.
– How long were you in the USA?
– We came back on Friday evening. I’m still a bit jet-lagged. Judith van Ravens closed her eyes. – I owed him a favour. The disappearance of this woman, your sister, can’t have anything at all to do with those pictures. Zako and I went to the film academy together. He’s strange, and he gets up to some weird things, but he isn’t involved in kidnapping or anything like that.
– Zako is dead.
The woman at the window stiffened. The colour drained from the already pale cheeks.
– It was an accident, Liss went on. It felt comforting, saying it like that. Something she might end up believing herself, if she repeated it often enough.
– How…?
Liss sat in one of the chairs by the coffee table.
– Overdose. A mixture of things. He fell asleep, vomited and choked.
Judith van Ravens slumped down into the sofa. – That’s not possible. Zako isn’t like that. He always has control.
Liss didn’t respond. For a few moments they sat in silence. In another room, a mobile phone began to ring. Judith van Ravens didn’t react. Sat hunched forward, legs crossed, staring at the tabletop. Suddenly she said:
– We have to go to the police. It’ll be a nightmare for me, but we have to.
– Why?
She didn’t raise her eyes. – It can’t be coincidental, this business with the pictures. If Zako has got himself mixed up in something or other, and someone has made this look like an accident…
Liss interrupted: – I’m sure you were right when you said it was only meant as a joke.
Judith van Ravens looked up. – Are you?
Liss nodded firmly. – Having spoken to you, it figures.
– Did you two… have a relationship?
Liss ignored the question. – It’s like you say. Zako wanted to surprise me. He didn’t mean any harm. It’s just a coincidence that my sister went missing directly after you took those pictures.
A moment’s relief: regardless of what had happened to Mailin, it wasn’t because of anything she, Liss, had done. It lasted for a few seconds, and then the doubt returned.
– Do you still have those pictures?
Judith van Ravens stood up, went into the next room, came back with a mobile phone.
– I didn’t delete them, she said, and showed Liss the screen. – Had forgotten all about the whole business.
Just then the baby began screaming in the next room.
– So you don’t think there’s any need for me to go to the police?
Liss waited a few seconds before answering. – As far as I know, no one believes Zako’s death was anything but accidental.
2
SHE NEEDED TO walk. Followed Kongs Way down towards town. It had snowed quite a lot, and the pavements hadn’t been cleared. Her thin boots were stiff with cold, and she slipped on icy bumps. Her phone began to ring. She thought of the detective inspector, Wouters. Sooner or later they’re going to find out, Liss. That someone else was there that night. That it was a woman in her mid-twenties, above average height, much too thin, with long reddish hair. No need to send out an alert. Anyone who knew Zako could point her out…
It was Rikke who’d called. Shortly afterwards, a text: Where are you? Have to talk to you.
It took almost an hour to reach Harald Hardrådes Square. She popped into a kiosk, bought a pack of Marlboros and a bottle of water, lit up the moment she was outside. Further up on Schweigaards Street was the commune where she’d been living just before she left. It probably still existed. Others would have moved in. Catrine still sent her messages at intervals; she’d even been out to Amsterdam to visit a couple of times. Maybe the closest thing to a best friend Liss had had.
She got her phone out to call her. At the moment Catrine was living in student accommodation. She’d also stopped throwing stones and bottles at walls of policemen with helmets and shields. Two years ago she’d started studying political science at Blindern and claimed to have found a better way to display her opposition. For Liss, it hadn’t been enough to move to the other side of town. She’d had to get far away.
When her call wasn’t picked up at once, she put the phone back in her bag, carried on towards Grønlandsleiret, and down to the church. There she stopped. Turned and looked up at the concrete block of the Oslo police headquarters. At the back were the security cells where she’d spent quite a few hours. No feeling worse than the sound of the door closing behind you. Being shut in. No knowing how long for… To the right of the station, the driveway leading up to the prison. What was the sentence for murder? Manslaughter, if they chose to believe her? She would be extradited to appear in court in Holland. Were the sentences longer there? Five years? Ten or fifteen? She might be over forty by the time she got out again… Locked up. Not for a few hours or a night, but for months, years. The only thing that scared her. Not to be able to go out the door when she felt she needed to. Pacing restlessly around in a tiny locked room. Shaking the bars, scratching at the walls. Waiting for the steps in the corridor, the rattling of keys. The appointed hour for exercise. Knowing that this is what it will be like until you’re old. This isn’t about you, Liss, she tried to tell herself. All that matters is to find Mailin. Nothing else is important.
She trudged up to the entrance to the police headquarters. What would you have said, Mailin? She tried to conjure up her sister’s voice. No one can make your choices for you, Liss. That wasn’t much help. She tried again. I don’t want you to get hurt, Liss. There is nothing in the world I care about more than you.
She pulled at the heavy door. Didn’t budge. It’s a sign, she thought, they won’t let you in. But the one beside it slid open and she stepped into the large hallway.
A girl about her own age in a Securitas uniform in the security booth. Two thin, pale braids hanging over the collar of her shirt. She looked as if she’d learnt to put make-up on in a children’s theatre.
– Can I help you? she said sullenly.
Liss peered up at the galleries around the hall. Different departments looked to be colour coded in red, blue and yellow.
– I’m here because of my sister. She’s gone missing.
– Okay, said the blonde without altering her facial expression. – You want to report a missing person?
Liss shook her head. – You’ve been looking for her for four days.
She didn’t want to tell any more to this creature slouched there chewing gum. – The detectives in charge of the case probably want to talk to me.
– What is your sister’s name?
– Mailin. Mailin Synnøve Bjerke.
– Sit down over there and wait.
A couple of minutes later, Liss was summoned back to the counter.
– None of the detectives can talk to you at the moment. Write your name and telephone number on this piece of paper and they’ll get in touch with you.