Jakob closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It must be the man from the Faroe Islands who put it there… He was messing about with my jigsaw puzzle last night. The one I told you threatened me with a knife.’
Karlo nodded, but he looked away.
‘Surely you don’t think…?’ Jakob ground to a halt and his shoulders slumped.
‘No… no.’ Karlo shook his head.
‘Where’s his wife?’ Jakob heard his own voice say the words, but it was Karlo’s body that moved. Past the dead man. Past the blood and the stench of gutted prey. Around the sofa, where he stopped. He looked up. Stared at Jakob, who stepped past the body of Anguteeraq Poulsen so he too could see the dead woman on the floor behind the sofa.
She hadn’t been killed in the same manner as the men. Far from it. She had suffered a single injury to her head. That was all. Someone had hit her hard, and the blow had killed her. It might not even have been intentional.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ Karlo said, interrupting Jakob’s train of thought. ‘You don’t seem to be worried about the girl at all.’
They both looked towards the door to the bedroom from where, a few days earlier, Poulsen had carried his daughter.
Jakob knew he had to react quickly to the question. Say the right thing. But his thoughts were so disjointed that all words deserted him.
Karlo took three long strides towards the door, pushed it open and disappeared inside. ‘She’s not here,’ his voice called out from inside the room. ‘But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?’
47
Paneeraq smiled contentedly. Jakob’s coffee table was covered with rocks. Not as densely as the shore of a pebble beach, but more like a display in a shop. She had arranged them on the stripy wood, pretty much in order of size. Only one had received special treatment. The small, fossilised sea urchin lay at centre stage, with plenty of room around it.
She had spent hours lining up the stones, and was finally satisfied with her efforts. It had been a big job because there were so many colours, shapes and patterns, and no two of them were alike.
She trailed her hand across the stones, and tapped them lightly with her forefinger one by one while she reeled off an endless list of names. ‘Hansiina. Nivi. Aviaaja. Rebekka. Olga. Julianne. Nuka. Najak.’ The finest of them all was Paneeraq, in the middle. It was also the softest and had been found in Denmark, which was far away.
At school they had seen many pictures and movies from Denmark. It was a country with tall trees with fruit on the branches, and it was warm. In the summer the children could run around and play outside—for a whole day, if they wanted to—without getting cold. It was hard for her to imagine, but she thought that it might explain why the little sea urchin was so smooth and fine. All that heat. After all, stones could melt if they got very hot.
She was wearing her white dress with the big coloured dots that she had worn yesterday, and the same yellow socks. She had nothing else, but Jakob had said that he would get the nice lady from the police station to help find her some clothes. They could also get some from her mum at home, but she didn’t want to leave yet. Being at Jakob’s was fun and peaceful.
Outside it was daylight, and the snow glowed white and bright through the windows. Jakob wouldn’t be back until it was dark again. Completely dark. Just after five o’clock, he had said, but he had also promised her that he would try to be home sooner than that.
She was startled by a sharp noise. She tumbled to the floor and disappeared into the grey woollen rug under the coffee table world of soothing rocks.
The noise came again—three hard knocks. Someone was outside. There shouldn’t be anyone outside. No one should be knocking on the door. Jakob had said so. No one comes here. Jakob had said so.
She clutched the sea urchin in her small fist. Mumbled to herself into the rug, telling herself that no one was knocking on the door. But they were. And they did it again. Three fresh knocks. Hard. Exploding against the wooden door.
Don’t open the door to anyone, Jakob had said. But someone was banging on it now. The handle rattled. Up and down. She tried pushing herself into the deep pile of the carpet. Hiding in the grey, dusty world.
On the shelf below the coffee table was Jakob’s book about rocks. The boring one. She could see its spine and the words on it. She closed her eyes. She tensed her body. Praying to turn into a stone herself.
The hammering resumed, and a voice reached the living room through the window near the coffee table. The voice called out to her. It spoke her name, but it wasn’t Jakob’s voice. It was angry. She had to open the door, the voice ordered her, or they would break it down. But she wasn’t going to open the door. She didn’t want to let the angry men in. She didn’t want to leave Jakob’s house and the stones.
The noises by the door changed. One crash after another. Paneeraq’s fists were clenched in front of her mouth, while a monotonous, hoarse sound seeped out between her lips. Her body rocked back and forth.
The door gave in with a heavy splintering and slammed into the wall. She shook her head. Cried out no on the inside. Where is Jakob? Where is Jakob?
Her dress grew wet. As did the rug. And her face. The chanting between her tightly pressed lips grew louder and more panicked.
Voices jumped around her like snarling dogs. They spoke but said nothing. A big hand grabbed her and spun her around. She didn’t want to look.
Relax, the hand said. We have you now. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re free.
Did he hurt you? another voice said, but she didn’t want to see or hear them. These men were wicked. They had come to take her away from the stones. And Jakob’s sofa.
Bloody hell—she’s pissed herself!
Two big hands grabbed her and picked her up. You’re coming with us, the voice behind the hands said. The hands were very strong. She fought but she wasn’t strong enough.
The voice shouted at her and the hands squeezed her tight. They shook her. She lashed out with her feet. The hands tightened their grip. She couldn’t breathe. She dropped the sea urchin. She was slung over someone’s shoulder and restrained.
The shoulder was hard. The back below it broad. Her eyes followed the small sea urchin as it rolled across the floor. It fled towards the bedroom, but lost speed before it got to safety and ended up lying on its side, its fossilised stomach pointing diagonally up into the air.
Paneeraq stopped moving. Her hands were clamped together, and her legs held in place. Then she screamed her own name. She cried out for the sea urchin, which grew smaller and smaller with every step taken by the body below her, until it disappeared.
They left the house. Everything around her grew cold. The frost nipped at her arms, her face and her legs. The urine froze on her thighs. As did the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes stung.
A car door opened and she was plonked onto a cold plastic seat. Someone tossed in her jacket, boots and satchel. The door slammed shut. She pushed against it and pressed her face against the icy glass. Her mouth wide open. Her teeth grinding against the windowpane. She was still screaming. Screaming deep inside herself.
48
The moment Lisbeth saw Benno and Storm arrive at the police station with Paneeraq, she jumped up and ran to the little girl. She knelt down in front of Paneeraq and tried to look into the girl’s red eyes.
‘What have you done to her?’ she challenged the two officers.