‘He can’t have been dead long,’ Sandland says as she scrolls down his Facebook profile. ‘He updated his status—’
She checks her watch.
‘Two hours and fifteen minutes ago.’
Bjarne takes a step closer to her.
‘What did he write?’
‘“Sorry”.’
Bjarne stops.
‘He has had comments from some of his friends asking what he means, wondering what has happened, but he hasn’t replied.’
‘So he felt remorse,’ Bjarne concludes.
‘Yes. We’ve got the guy,’ Sandland says, looking relieved. ‘It’s over.’
The crime scene officers soon take charge of the room, but Bjarne doesn’t want to leave before he has had some more answers. It takes a long time before Ann-Mari Sara comes out to him. She is carrying an evidence bag, which she hands to him.
‘This was lying at the top in one of his drawers,’ Sara says.
Bjarne takes the bag. There is an envelope inside it.
‘Check the logo,’ Sara says.
Bjarne turns over the bag, recognises the logo, a green ‘G’ surrounded by flowers in the top left-hand corner.
‘Grünerhjemmet,’ he says.
‘As you can see the letter is addressed to Tom Sverre Pedersen in Vindern. Erna Pedersen’s son.’
‘So Gjerløw stole his mail,’ Bjarne declares. ‘That was how he found out where Erna Pedersen went to live after she left Jessheim.’
Sara nods.
But why smash the picture of the family? What sparked his rage? Bjarne wonders.
‘Did you find anything else in there?’
‘Pictures,’ Sara says. ‘Numerous pictures on his laptop of Johanne Klingenberg and of Erna Pedersen’s room at the care home. But while the pictures of Klingenberg were sharp and almost professional, the photographs at the care home were taken with a mobile phone.’
Bjarne heaves a sigh and tries to get the pieces to fit together. Markus Gjerløw had unfinished business of some kind with Erna Pedersen and Johanne Klingenberg. He finds them, kills them – and then commits suicide? So killing them didn’t help? Did he not recover the balance in his life once he had got his revenge? And what part did Emilie Blomvik’s little son play in all this?
The only thing that appears clear is that Markus Gjerløw will take no more lives. Exactly what turned him into a killer will have to be discovered in due course.
Chapter 62
Heidi Kjus marches towards Henning as he is about to help himself to a cup of freshly brewed coffee to take back to his desk. Her speed does not bode well.
‘Where have you been?’ she barks and stops right in front of him.
‘I had to return the hire car,’ he says.
‘I thought you were working on the Bislett murder?’
‘I am.’
‘They’ve got him,’ she announces.
‘Got who?’
‘The man who killed Johanne Klingenberg. He has been found dead. Suicide, I believe.’
Henning blows carefully into the cup and walks past her on his way back to his desk.
‘Great, so the case has been solved then.’
Heidi doesn’t say anything immediately, but she follows him.
‘I had hoped that we could write our own story,’ she says. ‘All we have so far are five lines from NTB. You know I hate using agency material.’
‘Mm,’ Henning says. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Okay, fine. And it wouldn’t hurt if you went out and took some pictures, either.’
Henning sits down, runs his hands over his face and is struck by a sudden realisation. He is actually missing Iver Gundersen. Iver could have shared the workload with him or at least he would have had a sparring partner. Too much is happening at once.
But he has to prioritise and right now helping Trine is more important, even though he hasn’t decided what to do with his discovery. It’s not proof as such, but it should give Trine the ammunition she needs to fight back. The question now is how to communicate it to her and if she will even listen to him.
Even so, Henning makes a quick call to the duty crime editor and gets a summary of what happened at Grorud. He pads out the NTB story and inserts his own byline even though it goes against the grain when he is so far behind the other reporters. He also rings Bjarne Brogeland, but his call goes straight through to voicemail.
Right, I’ve done everything I can on that story, he says to himself. At least for now.
Now what do I do about Trine?
Perhaps I could give the information to a colleague, he thinks. Is there anyone here who could make use of the damning evidence I’ve found?
He shakes his head. The story is too important for him to delegate it. And if it’s to have any impact at all he needs irrefutable, physical proof, legally acquired. Trine is Justice Secretary, after all. Secondly, he must make sure that she is informed, preferably without revealing his own involvement. Trine made it clear that she didn’t want his help, a point she emphasised with a hard stare.
How does he do that?
He can’t go to the police, either. They need reasonable grounds to subpoena the records from Eiksmarka Internet café.
And one big obstacle remains, the biggest of them alclass="underline" Trine must be willing to face her accusers. There has been no sign of it so far and Henning has no idea why. And as long as he doesn’t understand that, it’s impossible to know if what he has found out will help her.
You’ll just have to risk it, he says to himself. Trine deserves to know who is trying to ruin her career. Then it’s up to her what she does with the information.
Chapter 63
Trine takes a deep breath and keeps her eyes firmly on her front door. She knows that the moment she leaves the car, it will be impossible to hear anything other than a cacophony of noise. Questions will be fired at her, it will be claustrophobic. But she will just have to get through it.
She braces herself and shuts everything out. While a blitz of flashlights turns the front door blinding white, she keeps telling herself that she will be inside her own home in a moment.
Pål Fredrik is waiting for her in the doorway. He ushers her in and closes the door behind them. But the sound of the media scrum continues to penetrate both the keyhole and the air-conditioning ducts.
She looks at him. He looks back at her.
‘Hello,’ she says at last, quietly.
But Pål Fredrik says nothing. He just comes closer and stands right in front of her. Then he pulls her towards him. And Trine disappears into his arms. Rests her head against his chest. Hears his heartbeat. Her big, strong man. She could try pushing him away, but she knows that he wouldn’t budge an inch.
They stand like this for a long time without saying anything. Finally, she takes a step back from him.
‘How are you?’ he asks and helps her take off her jacket.
‘How are you?’ she counters.
He smiles feebly.
‘I’ve been better.’
‘Me too.’
They exchange quick and guarded smiles.
Trine enters the living room first; she stops when she sees the soft lighting. The dining table is set for two. A bottle of red wine is open and breathing.