Mia Krüger said nothing. The pretty girl he was so fond of was lying almost lifeless under the duvet, not moving. Holger Munch sat down on a chair next to the bed and, a few minutes later, he heard her deep breathing enter a calmer tempo. She was asleep.
Mia? In this state?
He had seen her exhausted and run down in the past, but never like this. This was completely different. He gazed at her tenderly, made sure that she would not be cold and walked downstairs. He found the path leading to the jetty and took out his mobile from the pocket of his jacket.
‘Mikkelson speaking?’
‘It’s Munch.’
‘Yes?’
‘She’s not coming.’
There was silence from the other end.
‘Damn,’ he heard at length. ‘Did she say anything useful? Something we’ve missed?’
‘“There will be others.”’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I just said: there will be others. She has a number scratched into the nail of her little finger. Your people missed that.’
‘Damn,’ Mikkelson swore, and fell silent again.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ Munch said eventually.
‘You had better come back,’ Mikkelson said.
‘I’m staying here until tomorrow. She needs me.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I want you to come back.’
‘We’re reopening the unit?’
‘Yes. You’ll report directly to me. I’ll make some phone calls tomorrow.’
‘OK, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,’ Munch replied.
‘Good,’ Mikkelson replied, and another silence followed.
‘And, no, Mia won’t be coming,’ Munch said in reply to the question that was hanging in the air.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I guarantee you,’ he replied. ‘Mariboesgate, the same offices?’
‘It’s already been taken care of,’ Mikkelson replied. ‘The unit has been reopened unofficially. You can pick your crew when you return to Oslo.’
‘OK,’ Munch replied, and quickly rang off.
He could feel the joy rise in him, but he did not want Mikkelson to know it. He was going back where he belonged. To Oslo. The unit was up and running again. He had got his old job back, and yet his joy was not complete. He had never seen Mia Krüger like this, so far gone, and he would not be bringing her back with him. And the thought of the little girl hanging from the tree continued to send shivers down the spine of the otherwise level-headed investigator.
Munch looked up at the sky. The horizon was darkening now. The stars bathed the silence in a cold light. He tossed his cigarette into the sea and walked slowly back to the house.
Chapter 12
Tobias Iversen found another branch and began making yet another arrow while he waited for his brother to come back. He liked using the knife. Liked the way the blade sliced its way through the wood, liked how steadily he had to angle the knife between the bark and wood in order not to dent the arrow. Tobias Iversen was good with his hands; it was in art and woodwork lessons where he received the most praise. He was only average in the other subjects, especially in maths, but when it came to his hands, then he was gifted. And in Norwegian, too. Tobias Iversen loved reading. Up until now, he had preferred fantasy and sci-fi, but last autumn they had got a cool, new Norwegian teacher, Emilie, who laughed out loud and had lots of freckles; it was almost as if she were not a teacher but a really nice, grown-up girl whose lessons were incredible fun, so different from their last teacher, who had just… come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything they had done during those lessons. Emilie had given him a long list of books she thought he ought to read. He had almost finished Lord of the Flies, one of her suggestions, and realized how much he was looking forward to going home so he could carry on reading in bed. Or, at least, the reading in bed part; he wasn’t very keen on being at home. On paper, Tobias Iversen was only thirteen years old, but he was much older inside and he had experienced things that no child should. He often thought of running away, packing what little he owned into his rucksack and heading out into the world, away from the dark house, but it was a pipe dream. Where would he go? He had saved up some money from birthdays and Christmas, but it was not enough to travel anywhere and, besides, he couldn’t abandon his younger brother. Who would look after him, if not Tobias? He tried to think about something else, sliding the blade of the knife smoothly under the bark and smiling contentedly to himself when he managed to slice off a long strip without breaking it.
Torben was keeping him waiting. Tobias glanced into the forest, but did not worry unduly. His younger brother was an inquisitive little boy, he had probably just stumbled across an interesting mushroom or an anthill.
‘Why don’t we shoot the Christian girls?’
Tobias had to laugh. Kids, eh, so innocent; they knew nothing, they would say just about anything that came into their heads. It was the opposite in Tobias’s class or in the school playground, where you had to watch every word and thought in case it didn’t fall in line with the majority. Tobias had seen it happen so many times. It was just like in Lord of the Flies. If you showed weakness, you were marked out as a victim straightaway. Right now, he was worried about PE; he was athletic, fortunately, could run quickly, jump long and high, and his football skills were good. The trouble was his PE kit. A couple of new boys who had moved out here from Oslo had brought with them other ways, more money. It was all Adidas or Nike or Puma or Reebok now, and Tobias had had a few snide comments recently about his crappy shoes and shorts, jogging bottoms and the old T-shirts that did not have the right logo or style. Luckily, there was one thing that mattered more, and that was if girls liked you. If girls liked you, then no one cared about your PE kit or how clever you were or what music you listened to, and girls liked Tobias Iversen. Not just because he was fit, but because he was a really nice guy. Then it didn’t matter that his football boots had only one stripe and the soles had holes in them.
The Christian girls. The rumours had started the moment new people had moved into the old farm near Litjønna which had been empty for a long time. They had done up the place; it looked completely different now, and everyone thought that was highly suspicious. Some of the locals thought the newcomers belonged to Brunstad Christian Church, but that turned out to be wrong; apparently, they used to belong to Brunstad Christian Church, but they had decided that they did not agree with it, so they had started their own religion, or whatever you would call it. Everyone thought they knew something, but no one really knew the full story, only that the children who lived there did not go to school and that it was very Christian and all about God and stuff. Tobias was pleased they had come; he had twigged quite early on that whenever people made comments about his clothes or about poverty in general, all he had to do was turn the conversation round to the Christian girls and, hey presto!, everyone forgot about designer labels. Once, after PE, he had even lied about having seen them, just to shut up the two new boys from Oslo, and it had worked a treat. He had made up a story about the girls wearing strange clothes and having almost dead eyes, and how they had chased him away when they spotted him. It had been a dumb thing to do, obviously, because he didn’t know the Christian girls personally, and had no opinion about them, but what else could he do?
Tobias put down the knife and looked at his watch. His brother had been gone for quite a while now, and he started to worry. Not that they had to get home: they had no curfew, no one noticed whether they were in or out. Tobias could only hope that there would be something in the fridge so that he could give his brother some dinner. He had taught himself most household tasks. He could change bed linen, use the washing machine, pack his brother’s schoolbag; he could manage most things really, except for buying food – he didn’t want to spend his own money on food, he didn’t think that was fair – but most of the time there was something in the kitchen cupboards, instant soup or a bit of bread and jam. They usually managed.