So Rachel took Isabel’s hand in hers. “What I’m about to tell you, you must not tell a single person in the entire world, do you understand? Not yet, at least. We’re telling you because we think you can help us.”
“If it’s something criminal, I can’t guarantee you anything.”
“It is. But we’re not the criminals. He is, the man you kicked out. And what he’s done…” She took a deep breath, noticing for the first time that her voice was shaking. “What he’s done is the worst thing anyone could do to a family. He’s kidnapped two of our children. And if you tell anyone, he’ll kill them. Do you understand?”
Twenty minutes had passed, and never in her life had Isabel been held in the grip of shock for so long. Now she saw everything as it was. The man who had been living with her, and whom for a brief, intense period she had taken to be a possible life partner, was a monster most likely capable of anything at all. She felt it now, as her senses recalled his hands on her body. Just a little too strong, too competent almost. She realized how fatal his entry into her life could have been. And her mouth went dry as she thought back to the moment when she had revealed to him that she had been gathering information on him. What if he had attacked her there and then, before she managed to tell him that she had passed on everything she knew to her brother on the force? What if he had discovered that she was bluffing? That she would never dream of involving her brother in her erotically derived catastrophes?
She hardly dared think about it.
She looked at these people and shared their pain. Oh, how she hated that man. And she vowed that regardless of what it might cost, he would not get away.
“Listen, I can help you. My brother’s a policeman. He’s in the traffic police, but we can get him to put out a description. That way we can spread the word, cover the whole country in no time at all. I’ve got the number of his van. I can describe everything in detail.”
But the woman in front of her shook her head. She wanted to agree, but couldn’t. “I told you, you’re not to tell anyone. You promised,” she said after a moment. “Now we’ve got four hours before the banks close, and we need to raise a million kroner. We can’t sit here any longer.”
“But listen to me. If we leave now, we can be at his address in less than four hours.”
Again, Rachel shook her head. “What makes you think he took the children there? Surely that would be the stupidest thing he could do? My children might be anywhere at all. He may have taken them over the border. Anything can get through these days. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Isabel nodded. “You’re right.” She looked at the husband. “Have you got a mobile phone?”
Joshua pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here,” he said.
“Is it fully charged?”
He nodded.
“Have you got one, too, Rachel?”
“Yes,” was all she said.
“I think we should split into two teams. Joshua should try to raise the ransom, and we’ll drive to Sjælland. We need to do it now!”
The couple looked at each other for a moment. This unlikely pair-Isabel understood them only too well. She had no children of her own, and that was cause for grief enough in itself. How must it feel to realize you were about to lose those you had, that you might fail to save them?
“We need a million kroner,” said Joshua. “We’re good for more, but we can’t just go to the bank and ask them to give us the money, and certainly not in cash. A couple of years ago, maybe, when things were different. But not now. The only place we can go to is our congregation. It’s a risk, but it’s our only chance of getting the money.” He looked at her urgently. His breathing was shaky, his lips a little blue. “Unless you can help us. I think you can, if you want to.”
Here, for the first time, she saw the real person behind the name, so well known for the efficient running of his business. One of the best taxpayers in Viborg Municipality.
“Call your superiors,” he said with sadness in his eyes. “Tell them to call the tax authorities. Tell them we’ve made a mistake with our voluntary payment and that they need to return the amount to our account immediately. Can you do that?”
And suddenly the ball was in her court.
When she had gone to work that morning, three hours ago, she had still been feeling stunned. Out of sorts and in a foul mood. Self-pity had been her only momentum. Now she could hardly recognize those emotions. At this moment, she was prepared to act, to do anything necessary. Even if it cost her her job.
Even if it cost her more.
“Let me go into another room,” she said. “I’ll be as quick as I can, but it may take some time.”
26
“So, Laursen,” Carl said to the former forensics officer, wrapping up his briefing. “Now we know who wrote the letter.”
“Dreadful story.” Laursen breathed deeply. “You say you’ve got hold of some of Poul Holt’s possessions, so if there’s any DNA on them, then we can establish beyond a doubt whether the blood used to write the letter was his. If it was, then alongside the brother’s corroborating statement that he was killed, we should have enough to make a case. Assuming we find a suspect. But a murder case without a corpse is always going to be a dodgy business, you know that.”
He stared at the transparent plastic bags Carl produced from his drawer.
“Tryggve Holt told me he still kept some personal items belonging to his brother. The two of them were close, and Tryggve took these with him when he left home. I persuaded him to hand them over to us.”
Laursen wrapped a handkerchief around his large square mitt. “These are probably no good,” he said, putting a pair of sandals and a shirt to one side. “This might be useful, though.”
He examined the cap in detail. An ordinary white baseball cap with a blue peak proclaiming JESUS RULES!
“Poul wasn’t allowed to wear it because of his parents. But he loved it, apparently. Kept it under his bed during the day and practically slept with it on at night.”
“Anyone worn it other than Poul?”
“Seems not. I asked Tryggve the same question.”
“OK, then we’ve got his DNA here.” Laursen jabbed a thick finger at a couple of hairs adhering to the inside of the cap.
“Most excellent!” said Assad, appearing behind them with a ream of papers in his hand. His face was as bright as a fluorescent tube, which couldn’t be attributable to Laursen’s presence alone. What had he dug up now?
“Thanks, Laursen,” said Carl. “I know you’re up to your ears in fishcakes upstairs, but things do get through the system a lot more smoothly if they come from you.”
Carl shook him by the hand. It was about time he got his arse up to the cafeteria and let Laursen’s mates up there know what kind of a guy they had in their midst.
“Hey,” Laursen exclaimed, his eyes fixed somewhere in the air in front of him. And then he swiped a hand quickly and without warning at something invisible. He stood for a moment with his fist clenched, then made a movement a bit like hurling a tennis ball onto the floor. A split second later, he stamped his foot down and smiled. “I can’t stand those things,” he said by way of explanation, lifting his foot to reveal an enormous fly splayed out flat on the floor.
And then he was gone.
Assad rubbed his hands gleefully as Laursen’s footsteps faded. “We are running just like a well-oiled machine now, Carl. Have a look at this.”
He dropped his pile of papers onto the desk and indicated the sheet on top. “Here is the common I nominate in all the fires, Carl.”