She had been waiting for that. For him to end up there. With something about their daughter.
– You pick her up, she said as coldly as she could. – I don’t remember making any alternative arrangement.
He shrugged his shoulders. – Then left me finish up here.
His arrogance made her anger flare up again. – She found out about you and Liss that time.
– Who found out what?
She could hear that he was taken aback. Without her needing to say any more, it was clear that he understood what she was talking about.
– So what? he said tentatively. But she knew how his neck dipped, whether he was going to lose his temper, or lie down and whimper. She had him under control, and now she gave an extra twist:
– I told Mailin.
– Get out of here, he hissed, and continued to tap away at the keyboard.
Back in her office, she again dug her phone out and opened the contacts. She was the one who had suggested that Mailin approach Tormod Dahlstrøm three years ago, when she was looking for a mentor. And it was she who had recommended her friend to Dahlstrøm, called her conscientious, talented, thorough. Had she thought that Mailin would take over such a large part of him, even to the extent of persuading him to mentor the research project, she would never have brought them together. Dahlstrøm never had much time – among other things, he had declined to mentor Torunn’s own project when she asked him the year before. She had analysed her anger a long time ago, acknowledged that it stemmed from jealousy, not that it did anything to dampen her anger. Nor did it make matters any better that whenever a professional disagreement arose, Dahlstrøm always seemed to side with Mailin. But after what had happened now, it might be possible to put all this behind her and move forward.
She sat there looking at her computer screen, wondering what Oda was doing. It was Thursday, when the children in the nursery were served hot food; they’d probably eaten by now and were outside playing… She must have it out with Pål. Get him to tell her what he was doing on that evening Mailin went missing. She couldn’t live with the uncertainty. She stood up and headed for the door, then stopped with her hand on the knob. Better to wait until he had calmed down, she realised. Stroke him the right way. When he was in a bad mood, he could be self-destructive. He’d been drinking a lot recently. He’d started reminding her again of how he and Mailin had been a couple for almost three years. Using it against her. Everything Mailin was which she could never be. Torunn ignored things like that, refused to appear weak. During one quarrel a couple of weeks ago, he had started going on about Mailin. Said something about Liss. Torunn pretended she wasn’t interested. But she was almost nauseous with rage when she put together the different threads of his ravings. She made certain the whole story came out. Afterwards he said it was all supposed to be a joke. Drunken babbling, he called it. True enough, he could say the most unbelievable things when he’d been drinking. But never anything like this business with Liss.
Just over a week earlier, Torunn and Mailin had shared a lunch break. It wasn’t something that happened often these days. After all the arguments about Mailin’s articles, it was a strain for them to sit and eat together. Again Mailin had remarked how worried she was about her little sister, who was clearly adrift in some very murky waters indeed. Maybe it was something she chose to talk about because it was far removed from the professional disputes they were involved in. Torunn used the occasion to ask about Liss, and Mailin appeared relieved at this show of concern. Cautiously Torunn approached the time some nine or ten years earlier when Mailin and Pål were a couple. She received then confirmation of the very thing she didn’t want to know.
11
LISS SAT IN the café outside the factory gates with the newspapers in front of her on the table. A week had passed since Mailin’s disappearance, and now her sister had reached the front pages in both Dagbladet and VG. The police had contacted her mother the day before. They wanted to extend the search, with a name and a photo, hoping members of the public might come forward with something new. Her mother asked for Liss’s view, though it was clear she had already decided to give her permission.
Liss had put off reading the newspapers for as long as possible. But in every kiosk and general store she passed, there was Mailin’s face staring out at her. It didn’t help simply to look away. VG had a long article about Berger, with the headline No regrets. The talk show host made it clear that he didn’t see anything wrong in making fun of his guest when she didn’t show up. One of his comments was quoted: It looks as though the young feminist psychologist is not going to honour us with her presence. No doubt she was called to order by the rest of the cunt shoal.
In Dagbladet, there was a backstory feature on Mailin. About her work with victims of abuse, quotes from former patients who had been helped by her. On the next page, an interview with Tormod Dahlstrøm in which he praised her research work. Beneath that the headline Colleagues in shock. Pictures of Torunn Gabrielsen and of him, Pål Øvreby. It looked to have been taken in the waiting room where Liss had spoken to them a few hours earlier.
She sat there looking out at the little Christmas tree with its brightly coloured lights. People walked by, their hands full of bags of shopping. They hurried about buying Christmas presents as though nothing had happened, as though Mailin’s face on the front pages didn’t have anything to do with them… Both Dagbladet and VG used a picture of her Liss had never seen before, obviously quite a recent one. Somewhere behind that calm gaze Liss could see that she was calling for help. She folded up the newspapers and threw them on to the floor.
The waiter was standing by her table. Clearly he remembered her from the last visit.
– Espresso? he asked.
– Double.
– Anything else?
There was something else. She had an impulse. Ask him to sit down at her table and place his huge hands over hers. The backs of them were completely covered in short black hair. Reminded her of Zako’s hands.
Moments later, he was back with her coffee. On the saucer was a little chocolate in a gold wrapping.
– Soon be Christmas, he said, with something that might have been a smile in his eyes.
She took out the red notebook. Studied Mailin’s lettering. It was uneven and forward-leaning, an almost childlike hand, it struck her. There was something childlike about Mailin herself too. The one who always knew what to do.
She wrote: Mailin taught me almost everything I know. But not how to use it.
Passion is both hatred and love.
The child who looks for love and is met with lust.
Was Mailin at her office that evening?
Torunn Gabrielsen. Jealousy.
Ask Dahlstrøm what happened between her and Mailin.
Pål’s hands are always cold and clammy.
Mailin: to the cabin on Wednesday afternoon. Called Viljam. Call anybody else? Sent me text message Thursday. Contacted Berger. Did she meet Berger?
Taboos. We need taboos.
The patient she had an appointment with: JH. Did she meet him?
Death by water. Title of something. A film? Possible to die from drinking too much water? Ophelia.
What is it about Viljam? Has Mailin noticed who he looks like?