What will she tell the children?
The police aren’t much help yet because not enough time has passed since Thorleif went missing. But she could hear it in the voice of the female police officer who called half an hour ago, the one who rang yesterday, that they no longer regarded it as a straightforward missing-person case. Why else would she ask if Thorleif had had anything to do with Tore Pulli, including before the interview? What was she insinuating?
Elisabeth stretches out her arms behind her and buries them under the pillow. Her fingers stop when they touch a sheet of paper. She pulls it out.
‘Julie’s heart,’ she whispers to herself, holds up the drawing and looks at the fat red lines Julie drew at nursery. Her daughter has decorated every scrap of paper and every newspaper she has come across since with hearts. Elisabeth turns over the sheet and sees the car. And she sees that Thorleif drew it.
Why would he do that, she wonders and sits up. He never draws with Julie because, according to him, he is so bad at it. But now he appears to have drawn a picture of a car. And why did he leave the drawing under her pillow?
The car looks like a BMW. The registration plates are clear to see. Her gaze glides down towards the words written in Thorleif’s inimitable penmanship. Elisabeth raises her hand to her mouth. And she jumps the next moment when someone rings the doorbell.
*
The sun hits Henning’s face as he leaves 123news ’s offices in 9 Urtegata. He takes out his mobile and calls Iver, who gives him a quick summary of his conversation with Hansen.
‘So he didn’t punch you in the face?’
‘No, but he clearly wanted to.’
‘I told you to take it easy with those guys.’
‘I know.’
‘Have you spoken to any of the others?’
‘No, not yet. But I’m about to call TV2.’
Henning nods as he holds up his other hand. A cab across the street indicates and stops at the pavement. ‘Good. We need a few more angles.’
‘I found a picture of Tore Pulli and a guy named Even Nylund on the Internet earlier today. Nylund runs a strip club in Majorstua. Asgard it’s called or something like that.’
‘That’s where Geir Gronningen and Petter Holte work,’ Henning says and dashes across the street in between two cars.
‘I could try going over there tonight.’
‘Great idea.’
Henning gets into the cab.
‘What about you? Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to pay Thorleif Brenden’s girlfriend a visit.’
Chapter 67
The cab stops right outside the Italian School in Bygdoy Alle. Henning walks down a side street and searches for Brenden’s apartment block in Nobelsgate. He passes courtyard gardens with withered plants, finds the building marked B and presses the bell labelled ‘Brenden amp; Haaland’.
Henning looks around while he waits for an answer that doesn’t come. Perhaps she’s asleep, he thinks. Or trying to sleep. He called Elisabeth Haaland at the school where she works, but they told him that she was off sick today. He tried her mobile, which rang several times before switching to voicemail. Henning knows it is unlikely that she will open the door to him, but he thought it was worth a try and set out anyway. He rings the doorbell again. Another thirty seconds pass before a shattered female voice answers.
Henning introduces himself. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I would really like to talk to you about Thorleif. It will help you and your family if 123news can publish a detailed account of Thorleif’s last movements. It could prompt people to come forward which might lead to his being found.’
All Henning hears is a click at the other end. ‘Damn,’ he mutters to himself, and waits a few seconds before he presses the bell once more. There is only silence and the hum of city life behind the walls and the trees. Henning swears again even though he knows it is rare for relatives to want to talk to the press at this stage.
Henning refrains from pressing the bell a fourth time. Haaland has enough to worry about, he decides, when at that moment the door opens in front of him. An ashen-faced woman looks at him, her eyes and skin marked by tears and despair.
‘Elisabeth Haaland?’ he asks.
The bags under her eyes are enormous. Her hair has been gathered in a messy ponytail. No make-up. She pulls her jacket protectively around her and marches past him.
‘I know this is a bad time,’ Henning says. ‘But I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think it was important.’
Haaland ignores him. Henning hurries after her, gritting his teeth in response to the pain coming from his hip and feet as he struggles to keep up with her. ‘Please, just listen to what I have to say.’
Haaland stops and spins around. ‘They made him do it,’ she says and stares at him wild-eyed.
‘What?’
‘Thorleif didn’t do it.’
‘Didn’t do what?’
‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’
Henning makes no reply, but he looks perplexed. Haaland doesn’t elaborate, she just turns around and walks on.
‘How do you know?’ he says, rushing after her.
‘Because he told me,’ she says without turning around.
‘Have you spoken to him?’
She doesn’t reply, but continues marching down the street. Henning starts to run even though the soles of his feet are screaming.
‘What are you saying, Elisabeth?’
‘I’m going to the police.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Henning says, panting. ‘Perhaps we could talk while we walk? Or can I take you there in a cab?’
She glances at him over her shoulder; she doesn’t nod, but neither does she reject him. Henning tries to increase his speed as they reach Bygdoy Alle. Three cabs are waiting at the rank on the far side of the junction. Haaland gets into the first one. Henning stops outside and looks at her. She returns his gaze.
Then she nods.
Henning gets into the back. The cab pulls out before he has even had time to tell the driver that they are going to the police station. Henning hands over his credit card and leans back.
‘What’s going on, Elisabeth?’ he says, trying to catch his breath.
Haaland doesn’t reply. She looks at him with eyes that instantly well up. She strangles a sob and shakes her head, but can’t stop the tears that keep flowing.
‘What did you mean when you said that they made Thorleif do it? Are you referring to what happened in Oslo Prison yesterday?’
She gives him a quick look, but says nothing. She doesn’t have to.
‘Who made him?’
‘I–I don’t know who they are.’
‘Has anyone threatened him?’
Henning can’t decide if she is shaking her head because she doesn’t know or if fear has taken control of her body. ‘What’s happened?’ he says again, in an even softer voice.
Another shake of the head.
‘Has Thorleif been behaving strangely recently?’
Henning can see that she thinks about it before she nods.
‘In what way?’
She composes herself and dries her wet cheeks. ‘He has been very distant. He spent a couple of days in bed this week because of a stomach bug, and he kept calling to ask me to do the things I already do every day.’ Again she wipes the tears from her face.
‘Has he done anything else unusual?’
‘He drew a picture of a car.’
Henning lets her have all the time she needs.
‘And he put the picture under my pillow.’
‘Why do you think he did that?’
She shakes her head again while she opens her handbag and takes out the drawing. Henning’s eyes widen as he sees it. He reads the words Thorleif Brenden wrote at the bottom.
If anything should happen to me, go to the police and tell them to look for Furio. I don’t know what he will make me do or why, but I have to do what they want in order to protect you.
‘Who is Furio?’ Henning asks as he feels his heart beat faster. He used to live for moments like this.