“And how old are you?”
“Nearly five.” He turned and stared back at the house as if he wanted his mother to come and rescue him, but Eddie kept his hand there. He glared down at the anxious little face and took in every detail, the curls, the blue eyes. He was blond like his mother. Eddie shook the handlebar. The boy struggled to keep his balance, his face white with fear. Eddie continued to shake the bike, looking at the boy with black eyes. Then suddenly he let go and went back to the car to sit there and watch him. The bike wobbled a bit as the boy hurried away.
He went back again the same night. He parked some distance away and walked to the house, imagining them both lying asleep, maybe cuddled up together in the same bed. Just as he had cuddled up with Mass when he was little. He went up the steps and read the nameplate. It looked handmade. Bonnie and Simon live here. Then he walked around the house. There was a rabbit cage at the back with two tiny rabbits in it. They looked just as scared as the boy had been, and he hit the chicken wire with his hand a couple of times. The rabbits huddled together in a corner. He looked up at the dark windows and wondered which one was her bedroom. It was impossible to see in. Then he went back around and sat down on the steps. He felt he had a right to sit here; this house should have been his. He sat there until it started to get light, and they would soon be up. Then he drove to the end of the road and waited. At seven o’clock, the pale blue Opel drove by. He caught sight of them as they passed, and he followed the car at a safe distance.
It wasn’t far to Simon’s daycare. He stopped right by the gate and watched Bonnie get out of the car; she undid the seat belt and Simon clambered out of his child seat and they went in together. Mass had always stayed at home, he thought. She looked after me.
Five minutes later, she came back out. It was warm and she was wearing a white dress and sandals. He followed her into the center of town where she disappeared into a house. After waiting for an hour, he drove home again. He went into Mass’s bedroom and opened her wardrobe. He stared at the coats and dresses and the neat row of shoes at the bottom. He stood for a while breathing in the smell of the clothes, and when he’d had enough, he closed the wardrobe door. Her bed had been left as it was since she went into the hospital, and he decided to make it up. He did the best he could, smoothing the sheet and puffing the pillow. Then he put the quilt on. He would never go into the room again, never. He concentrated on Bonnie and his brother, Simon. He followed them for several days, learning their habits and routines. He always made sure to park at a distance, even though he was not afraid of being discovered. He could stand in front of her and tell her the truth, that he was her son. And he could ask her why she had given him away, and he would see the confusion in her eyes. The shame and embarrassment. Just like Adelina-Susann’s mother by the River Ravi.
He soon understood that she was some kind of helper, as she went from house to house. Maybe she was a cleaner, he thought. When she finished for the day, she went to collect Simon from daycare, and then they went to the store to buy food. Simon often came out with a bun in his hand. It was just the two of them. Bonnie was always touching Simon: ruffling his hair, stroking his cheek, and sometimes lifting him up to give him a hug. There was something caring and sincere about her that made him bitter and sad. His cheeks burned constantly. It was worse than ever. The fire had spread to his head and heart.
It was Sunday and Bonnie had the day off. She drove up to Geirastadir with Simon. He had a little backpack on and they disappeared up toward Svarttjern. Eddie sat in the car and watched them go.
40
August 2005
One day toward the end of the month, Randen appeared in the outbuilding and wanted to talk to Woiciech. The sexton from Haugane had called because he needed someone to paint the long fence around the graveyard. The man who had originally agreed to do the job had put his back out and was on sick leave, and the wood was drying out and needed some attention. Woiciech immediately accepted the job. He needed every krone he could get, and he liked it up at Haugane Church. He liked working outdoors as well, and he started right away. The fence was to be painted white like the church. He got down on his knees in the green grass and worked hard, as he always did when he took on a job. Woiciech was a happy man; his life was good. He was strong and healthy and had a family. There were no obstacles as far as he could see.
People came and went in the graveyard at regular intervals, tending the graves. They brought watering cans, trowels, and plants. He noticed an elderly woman who came every day to the graves of the mother and child who had been killed up at Skarven. He watched her walk slowly between the graves, her head bowed and her back bent as she went out through the wrought-iron gates.
He was just getting ready to leave one day when a man drove up and parked beside him. He got out of the car and went down into the graveyard. Without knowing why, Woiciech sat and watched him. There was something about the way he walked. A heavy, slow man dressed all in black. He didn’t have anything with him either — no flowers or trowel or watering can. But he was not just out for a ramble; he definitely knew where he was going. Woiciech waited. When the man got to Bonnie’s and Simon’s graves, he just stood there and stared, as though he didn’t really know what to do with himself. A lot of people had visited their graves; they were presumably curious. The case was so gruesome that it had attracted attention beyond the country’s borders. Woiciech looked at the car that was parked beside his. He had read about the details in the newspapers, like everyone else. The man by the graves stood with his hands deep in his pockets and occasionally kicked at the soil. Eventually he turned back to the parking lot, got into his car, and drove off down the avenue of trees.
Woiciech went straight to the police station. He had nothing else to do; he had the time. He asked to speak to Sejer and was shown into a bright office, where he was greeted by Frank.
“I’ve got something to report,” he said shyly. “I’m working up at the church, painting the fence. People come and look at the graves. Of those two, I mean. And today a man came.”
“And he drew your attention?” Sejer said. “That’s why you’re here. What did you see?”
“He was big. Tall and solid. He stood there for a long time, and I sat in the car and watched.”
“Did he realize he was being watched?”
“I don’t think he noticed.”
“And what about his age? How old do you think he was?”
“Under thirty. No gray hair. Black top and boots. I thought it was strange to be wearing boots in this heat. His car was parked beside mine. I waited. Then he drove slowly off down the avenue.”
“In other words, you got a good look at the car, close up,” Sejer said. “This could be very important to us.”
“Yes,” Woiciech agreed. “The car was similar to the one I saw up by the farm. I had a close look before he came back.”
Sejer nodded. He couldn’t keep his hands still. He opened and folded them, and drummed his fingers on the world map that was on the desk in front of him.
“What kind of car was it, Woiciech?” he asked. Woiciech seemed to be pleased with himself.
“An Opel Omega wagon,” he said. “Red.”
Sejer knew that they would solve the case now. But he had known that all along. He felt neither joy nor triumph, just relief and satisfaction. He felt that it was something important, significant. For Henny and Henrik Hayden. For everyone who had been affected, for all the local community in Haugane. For the organization he was a part of, and for Bonnie and Simon. Woiciech got up and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his green work pants. He tapped on some buttons and then put the phone down on the map, on Krakow.