– It isn’t necessary, said Liss, but she sat down in one of the chairs. – I can manage.
Pål Øvreby remained standing, diagonally behind her. She twisted round, wanted to know where he was.
– I know you and Mailin are very close, said Torunn, and slumped down into the sofa.
Liss could hear how she sort of folded her voice to sound sympathetic. – Maybe, she said, and turned the conversation in another direction. – Did the three of you work together?
The two psychologists exchanged glances. Pål Øvreby said: – We share a break room, we often have lunch together.
He still had that ridiculous American accent when he spoke. To Liss it had always seemed fake.
– Mailin was here on Thursday afternoon. Did you see her?
Again the pair looked at each other, Liss had the feeling they were deciding which of them should answer.
– We’ve spoken to the police about this, Liss, said Torunn Gabrielsen in a motherly fashion. – Her car was parked up the street here, but neither of us were here when she came.
She peered through the lenses of her glasses; maybe they weren’t strong enough, and the frames didn’t look as though they’d been renewed since the eighties.
– How much do you know about what Mailin was working on? Liss wanted to know.
– We sometimes discuss difficult cases over lunch, Pål Øvreby answered. – You have to in this business, back each other up.
He and Mailin had once been a couple. Almost ten years ago now. Liss couldn’t imagine her sister needing backing from someone like him.
– Mailin and I cooperated quite a bit in the past, said Torunn Gabrielsen. – We wrote a number of articles together.
– About what?
– Abuse of women. Threats, psychological violence, rape. We want to live in a city that is safe for everyone, regardless of gender.
– But you don’t work together now?
– Not so much.
Torunn Gabrielsen buttoned up her jacket.
– They can’t agree with each other, Pål Øvreby chuckled. – So they have to argue instead.
She looked coldly at him. – This is something you don’t understand, Pål, and there’s no need to bother Liss with it. She’s got other things to think about.
Liss interjected: – On that Thursday, Mailin was supposed to be seeing a patient here at five in the afternoon. His initials are J. H. Do either of you have any idea who that might be?
She could feel their gazes pressing in on her from both sides.
– Sounds as if you’re investigating the case, Pål Øvreby remarked. He stood there, smiling in a way that suggested he believed Liss had come there in order to see him.
– Stop it, Pål, Torunn Gabrielsen hissed. – Even you can understand why she wants to know what’s happened.
She turned towards Liss again. – I don’t know who Mailin had an appointment with that day. We don’t know each other’s patients.
It seemed as though she was making an effort to control herself and speak calmly, and Liss had her suspicions about what it was that was making her so angry.
– But you all use the same archive safe?
Torunn Gabrielsen stood up. – We don’t have access to Mailin’s notes. She has her own lockable drawers.
10
TORUNN GABRIELSEN FINISHED with her last patient and showed him out. All afternoon she had been in a bit of a state and it had affected her work, but she had managed to keep her mask up. Over and over again her thoughts returned to what had happened earlier in the day. Walking into the waiting room and finding Pål there pawing away at Liss Bjerke.
Torunn had seen pictures of her in Dagbladet’s magazine a few months earlier. Liss was completely unlike her sister, beautiful in a curious way, and not even the idiotic things she had to say on the subject of being a young woman could diminish that impression. In the flesh, her face had an even stronger radiance than in the photographs. A combination of naivety and self-assurance that had a confusing effect. Mailin often talked about her sister. The impression Torunn had was that Liss was a sort of pilgrim who had embarked on a dangerous journey through the world. The stories about this vulnerable and sensitive sister didn’t interest her much. Not until she found out about this business involving Pål and Liss.
She stuck her hand down into the bag she had shoved under the desk, fished out her phone. She needed to talk to someone. It was almost a year now since she had last spoken to Tormod Dahlstrøm. The mentoring had come to an end at her suggestion. For a long time she continued to hope that he would protest, persuade her to carry on, give some explanation of why she wanted to terminate the process. He hadn’t done any of those things. He had accepted the reason she gave, though he no doubt had his own opinions on the matter, and that had added fuel to the anger she felt.
Rather than call him, she finished a note in the patients’ journal, put a few documents away in the drawer, locked it and headed up the stairs. The door to Pål’s office was ajar, as usual when he wasn’t seeing patients. She knocked once, pushed it wide open and stood in the entrance. He was punching away at his computer keyboard, feigning indifference. She banged the door shut behind her.
– What did she want with you? she asked without any preamble.
He wrinkled his brow and gave her a look that suggested he had no idea what she was talking about.
– Liss, you mean? Liss Bjerke?
She didn’t bother to confirm it. She knew when he was lying, when he was bluffing, and when he was about to lie, because she knew every twitch on that face and could read it like a children’s primer. Almost before he had got started, he abandoned the hopeless task.
– Well you heard her yourself. She’s trying to find out what’s happened to Mailin. Not everyone just keeps breezing along as though nothing has happened when someone they know goes missing.
If that was supposed to be a dig at her, it missed badly. She took a few paces into the room.
– I want you to stay away from her, she said firmly. – Well away.
Again he wrinkled his brow, and this time he managed to look genuinely astonished.
– Well I’ll be damned. Someone lets themselves into Mailin’s office, I go to see who it is that’s poking around in there. Had no idea it was her baby sister.
Torunn hated to hear him use that phrase. – All I’m saying is, stay away from her.
She could see his anger forming. A way of tensing the neck, until it manifested itself in his eyes.
– Even if it was me that asked her to come, that has absolutely nothing to do with you, Gabrielsen. He pointed at her. – Not one fucking bit.
She took another step in his direction. – I’ve lied for your sake, she said between gritted teeth. – Lied to the police. I hope you haven’t forgotten that. Given false evidence. That is a punishable offence. I might change that statement, little Påly. I might tell them what actually happened, that you weren’t home at six o’clock on the day Mailin went missing, that you didn’t show up until after nine, and that you were in an absolute state. And that it certainly didn’t have anything to do with one of your patients, as you tried to get me to believe in the first place.
– I said that to spare your feelings.
– So now it’s me you’re protecting. Poor Torunn, I’ll take good care of her. Spare me the hypocrisy, you’re making me sick.
He gave up. Always did. He might toss off something in a flash of anger, take the occasional jab at her, but then he couldn’t keep it up. Couldn’t commit to anything, whether it be a quarrel or the opposite of a quarrel.
– I’ve got a few things to do, he said wearily. – Got to get this finished. He circled his forefinger over some documents lying on his desk, but she didn’t believe for a moment that he was going to do any paperwork. He loathed it, could hardly even bring himself to make journal notes, and the disability allowance application forms never got filled. – Or will you pick up Oda?