As she read through the ruling Thóra noticed a strange detail that piqued her curiosity. During the investigation, the police had received an anonymous tip telling them exactly where in Jósteinn’s flat to find certain photographs; these photos had been taken over a number of years and showed clearly how many children he had abused, and in what ways. The photographs had raised the level of the investigation; had they not been found, the individual offences Jósteinn would have been charged with might have only seen him sentenced to a few years. The discovery of the pictures allowed the police to obtain a search warrant for Jósteinn’s workplace, a computer workshop, to which they had not previously had access. An enormous amount of child pornography and other hardcore material was found, which gave the investigators enough evidence to bring the case against him. Shortly thereafter it went to trial and Jósteinn was ordered to undergo psychiatric evaluation, following which he was found guilty but declared not criminally liable due to insanity. This meant he was acquitted of the criminal charges, but sentenced to detention in the Secure Psychiatric Unit at Sogn, where he was to remain until the courts ruled that his treatment was complete and that he no longer posed a threat to those around him.
Thóra could glean little more except that Jósteinn seemed to have fared rather better than his victim, who was still recovering in Reykjavík City Hospital’s rehabilitation unit when the sentence was passed. In her peculiar phone call with Jósteinn he’d hinted that he wanted to discuss an old case, but it was unclear whether he meant the first one or the second. To reopen either seemed preposterous; he had received a ridiculously light sentence first time round, and the more recent case was so clear-cut that she couldn’t see what there was to challenge about the verdict. Was Jósteinn hoping to overturn the ruling of insanity and have his incarceration transmuted to an ordinary prison sentence, after which he might be able to gain his freedom? From the short conversation they’d had it was impossible to assess his mental condition; he’d sounded completely normal, if a little brusque and arrogant. He was probably just as ill as the day that he’d arrived; the verdict had included a summary of the psychiatrist’s diagnosis, stating that Jósteinn suffered from acute schizophrenia and other personality disorders that could mostly be kept in check with drugs and therapy but that would be almost impossible to cure fully. Thóra had noted that the same psychiatrist suggested the possibility be explored of housing Jósteinn in a secure psychiatric ward abroad, one better equipped to handle such a severely damaged individual; the doctor thought it unlikely that any Icelandic unit would be able to cope.
Thóra got out of the car and took her briefcase from the back seat. It actually didn’t contain anything other than printouts of the two Supreme Court verdicts, along with a large notebook. Not that she expected to take many notes; she was almost sure she’d turn down the case, conjuring up some imaginary work as an excuse. The details of how Jósteinn had abused the teenager still haunted her, and she did not intend to hasten this man’s release from custody. In fact, she wished she’d just said no from the outset. She shut the car door and walked to the entrance. She was in no position to assess the man’s mental health and was unsure what she would be confronted with: had Jósteinn recovered his sanity? Was he now so overcome with remorse that he wanted a second chance? Or was he incurably evil, desperate to be released and find his next victim?
Thóra rang the bell and looked around while she waited. She watched two men walk slowly towards a little greenhouse and go in, each carrying a bucket. One of the men looked like he had Down’s syndrome and was possibly an inmate, while the other appeared to be a staff member. Her attention was directed back to the house when the door opened to reveal a woman in a white coat, which she wore unbuttoned over jeans and a tatty jumper. The coat looked just as well worn as the jumper, and repeated washing had all but erased its National Hospital logo.
The woman introduced herself as the duty nurse. She ushered Thóra in and showed her where to hang her coat, making small talk about the traffic and the weather, then led her further into the house and opened the door to a shabby but cosy sitting room where she said the interview would take place. Large windows looked out on a garden and the little greenhouse, inside which the two men Thóra had seen a couple of minutes ago were now busily tending some impressively lush plants. The nurse volunteered the information that the greenhouse’s construction had been funded by a generous donation from an elderly woman who more than sixty years before had lost her two-year-old daughter; a man with severe mental health problems had woken one day with the desire to kill someone, not caring who. He had chosen the little girl, though she was a perfect stranger to him. Her mother’s benevolence after all these years showed great strength of character, thought Thóra, though this didn’t make her any less nervous about the security situation in the sitting room if Jósteinn should decide to attack her. Ideally, she would have preferred them to sit on opposite sides of bulletproof glass. ‘Am I safe here?’ She looked around at the chairs with their embroidered cushions.
‘I’ll be in the next room.’ The woman looked unruffled. ‘If anything happens just shout and we’ll be right there.’ Realizing Thóra was still unsure, she said: ‘He won’t do anything to you. He’s been here for nearly ten years without hurting anyone.’ After a slight hesitation she added, ‘Well, any human beings, anyway.’
Thóra frowned. ‘What do you mean – has he hurt an animal?’
‘That’s not an issue any more. There are no animals here now, because of how the most acutely ill inmates reacted to them. But of course we are in the countryside, and animals from the nearby farms do sometimes wander into the grounds.’ The nurse didn’t give Thóra the chance to pursue the subject. ‘Please have a seat and I’ll go and get Jósteinn.’ It seemed that the man hadn’t earned himself a nickname during his detention. ‘I know he’s excited to meet you.’
The woman left, and Thóra pondered where it would be safest to sit. The last thing she wanted was to end up too close to him. A worn armchair positioned slightly off to the side appeared to be the best option, and Thóra went over and placed her briefcase on the coffee table in front of it. She decided to stand there until the man came in, having read a long time ago about the importance of standing when wishing to gain the upper hand. The person sitting was forced to look up at the other, which – so the theory ran – tipped the balance of power.