‘Quite, quite. And how are you doing otherwise, Sarah? You and your daughter are all right and-’
‘Fuck off,’ Sarah Kiese said, and left the office without closing the door behind her.
Several times on her way back to the new Housing Association flat in Carl Berner she considered chucking the memory stick. Toss it in a bin and she would be finished with him, but for some reason she did not. Not because she was curious – Sarah Kiese could not give a rat’s arse about its contents; it was more about tying up loose ends. The lawyer was a rat, but he was still a lawyer. Her husband had been an idiot, but he had had a last wish. Give that memory stick to Sarah, and only to her.
She let herself into the flat and turned on her computer. Might as well deal with it straightaway. The black laptop slowly roused itself. She inserted the memory stick and copied the contents to the computer’s hard drive. It contained only one file, which was called Sarah.mov. A film. Aha? So she would be forced to look at his ugly mug one more time, was that it? Even from beyond the grave he was bothering her. She double clicked the file to play the film.
He had recorded himself with a small camera. Possibly on his phone; she couldn’t be sure. His horrible face was close to the lens, but it had an expression she had not seen before. He seemed scared out of his wits.
Sarah, I don’t have much time, but I have to do this, I have to tell someone, because something here doesn’t feel right.
He filmed his surroundings.
I was offered a job and now I’ve built this. I’m far away in…
She heard noises, muffled, as if he were covering the microphone on his mobile; she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Her late husband continued filming his surroundings with trembling hands while he spoke, stuttering most of the time. So he had built something, so what?
… And I’m scared that, well, what did I actually build? Look at this. I’m deep underground. I thought that it might be a panic room, but it’s not. There’s a small hatch…
The voice disintegrated again but the filming went on. It was a kind of underground shelter.
… And no, it doesn’t feel right, something is going on here. Something… Take a look at this. Just look. You can hoist things up and down. Like an old service lift or…
Her late husband suddenly jerked and looked around. The whole scene reminded her of a film she had seen years ago, The Blair Witch Project, about some terrified teenagers running around the forest filming themselves.
… What the hell do I know, but I’m worried that something might happen to me. I can feel it. Have you any idea how far away I am? Please would you write down what I’m saying, Sarah? Where I am and how I got this job, and well, then you can go to the police if anything should happen to me? I got the job from someone who…
More scrambling. Sarah Kiese could not hear a word of what her late husband was saying, she could just see his frightened eyes and trembling lips as he babbled away. This lasted just over a minute. Then the film ended.
So who did you have to sleep with to get this job? she thought. Or was it a job in return for sex? I certainly never saw any of that money. Help you? I don’t think so.
The short film clip had been very unpleasant to watch, but she no longer had the energy to care. The whole thing could be nonsense for all she knew, some idiotic hoax. She had given up believing anything that idiot said a long time ago.
Sarah deleted the film from her computer, took out the memory stick, threw it in the bin, went out into the stairwell and threw the bin bag down the shaft. Just like that. The house was tidy once more. Just her. No trace of him.
Soon her daughter would come home from school. Life was wonderful. In this flat, she was in charge. She went outside on the terrace and lit a cigarette. Put her feet on the table, smiled to herself, closed her eyes and enjoyed a glimpse of the spring sunshine that had finally made an appearance.
Her life. No one else’s. At last.
Chapter 17
Gabriel Mørk was about to make his way to the incident room when there was a knock on his door.
‘Yes?’ he called out.
‘Hello, Gabriel.’
Holger Munch entered and closed the door behind him. Gabriel nodded hi and shook the large, warm hand.
‘Er, right,’ Holger said, scratching his head. ‘I see your stuff hasn’t arrived yet?’
‘No,’ Gabriel said. ‘But, that guy… he…’
‘Kim?’
‘Yes, Kim, he said it was on its way.’
‘Great, great,’ Holger Munch said, now scratching his beard. ‘We had another guy doing your job, but he succumbed to temptation. Pity, but that’s how it goes.’
Gabriel wondered if he could ask what kind of temptation his predecessor had succumbed to, but he decided against it. There was something in Munch’s eyes. He had seen the same expression in Kim’s. The heavy, burdened expression of someone with a lot on their mind.
‘I’m sorry about the somewhat unorthodox hiring process; I normally meet everyone I employ, but there was no time on this occasion, regrettably.’
‘It’s fine,’ Gabriel replied.
‘You came highly recommended,’ Munch nodded, and patted Gabriel on the shoulder. ‘Again, I’m sorry about the rush. It’s a bit, well, I don’t know, did Kim brief you?’
Gabriel shook his head.
‘OK, you’ll learn on the job. Have you read today’s papers?’
‘On the Net.’ Gabriel nodded.
‘Any particular news that stood out, in your opinion?’
‘The two dead girls?’
Munch nodded.
‘Mia and I will brief everyone shortly, so you’ll soon know what we’re talking about. You have no previous experience with police work?’
Gabriel shook his head.
‘Don’t worry about it. I picked you because of what you know already,’ Munch continued. ‘Like I said, if we had more time, we would have sent you on an induction course, a short version of Police College, but there isn’t, so it’ll be learning by doing and, if you have any questions, then just come to me, OK?’
‘Sure.’ Gabriel nodded.
‘Fine,’ Munch muttered, looking absent-minded again. ‘By the way, what did you think?’
‘About what?’ Gabriel said.
‘When you read the news today?’ Munch continued.
‘Oh, right,’ Gabriel replied, blushing slightly, feeling he should have realized what his new boss was asking him. ‘I guess I thought the same as everybody else, I presume. It was a bit of a shock. I’ve been following the case about the two missing girls. Hoping they would turn up alive.’
Gabriel thought about the headlines in the papers.
PAULINE AND JOHANNE FOUND KILLED…v
LIKE TWO DOLLS IN THE TREE…
FAMILIES IN DEEP MOURNING…
WHITE CITRO‘N SPOTTE…
HAVE YOU SEEN THESE CLOTHES…
‘Was that what you meant?’
‘What?’
Munch had been lost in thought.
‘Should I say anything else?’
‘No, that’s fine,’ Munch replied, placing his hand on his shoulder and turning to the door. ‘Or, no, tell me a bit more.’
Munch gestured for Gabriel to sit down, while he continued to lean against the glass wall.
‘Well, I don’t really know,’ Gabriel began. ‘When I woke up this morning I was an ordinary guy. I didn’t know that this was the case I’d be, well, working on.’
The words tasted strange in his mouth. Working. On a case. A murder investigation. The newspapers wrote of little else; same went for the TV channels. Everyone was talking about the discovery of the bodies of two girls who had been missing for weeks; all of Norway had been hunting high and low for them. It was obvious that the police knew more than they were saying, but they were asking anyone who had seen the clothes to come forward. The dresses. The girls had been found wearing doll’s clothes. Between the lines, a phrase was starting to appear, a phrase which had yet to be used, because this was Norway, not the US or some other country where such things happened, and that phrase was ‘serial killer’. It had not been printed anywhere, and yet it was what everyone thought.