Someone had written her name on the gravestone. Was someone coming after her? Wanting her dead? She had enemies, of course she did, no police officerswith her reputation got through their career without making some, but she could‘ot think of anyone in particular. It was unpleasant to see her name on the gravestone, but the feeling of rage because someone had desecrated Sigrid’s final place of rest was much worse.
She muttered curses at the unknown attacker, got up and dried her tears. Cleared away the leaves and twigs, put the flowers in the vase and continued tidying the graves. She dug her fingers into the soil, turning it over so that it would look fresher. It was nicer this way. Went back to where she had fetched the watering can and found a rake. Took off her leather jacket and her jumper. Dipped the sleeve of her jumper in the water from the watering can and tried to scrub off her own name from the gravestone. The spray paint refused to budge. She had to talk to someone about it, get it removed as quickly as possible. She hated it being there, mocking her. Mocking both of them. She raked away the last remains of dead foliage while she waited for the verger. She should have come earlier. This was far too late. She mumbled, ‘Sorry, Sigrid, forgive me,’ through pressed lips, trying to hold back a fresh stream of tears.
There was a small yellow plastic container behind the vase. The kind you would find inside a Kinder Egg. She bent down and picked up, took it to the nearest bin and dumped it. She was walking back towards the grave when she stopped in her tracks.
Could it be?
No, it was impossible.
She spun around, went back to the bin and retrieved the yellow container. She twisted it open.
There was a note inside.
Mia’s hands shook as she unfurled the note.
Peek-a-boo, Mia. Clever girl. But you’re not as clever as you think you are. You think this is the real grave, but it isn’t. Can you see me, Mia? Can you see me now?
Mia Krüger ran as fast as she could down to her car to find her mobile. She had dozens of missed calls but decided to ignore all of them. She wiped the tears from her eyes and rang Munch.
Chapter 68
Ludvig Grønlie stepped out on Munch’s smoking terrace to get a bit of fresh air. He let out a small sigh and stretched his body. He was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Other members of the unit had worked almost twice as many hours as he had recently. Ludvig Grønlie was coming up for sixty and, although no one had said it out loud, it was in the air. Long and loyal service. No one would reproach him if he didn’t work twenty-three hours a day any more. But it was not only the physical pressure that took its toll; the mental exertion was worse. Never any peace, always something that needed doing. As long as a serial killer was at large, none of them could truly rest.
His mobile rang. He recognized the name on the display and answered the call.
‘Grønlie speaking,’ Ludvig said, stretching again.
‘Hello, Ludvig, it’s Kjell.’
‘Hi, Kjell, did you find something?’
Kjell Martinssen was one of Ludvig’s old colleagues. They had worked together in Oslo for years but, in contrast to Munch, Martinssen had chosen to be demoted. No, that was unfair: he had made the decision to take it easy. He had met a woman. Requested a transfer to Ringerike Police. His old colleague had made a wise move. He sounded relaxed and happy.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.’
‘A support group for childless women?’
‘Yes,’ his colleague said. ‘Only they call it talking therapy. Heidi does quite a lot of work for Ringerike Volunteer Service, so she pointed me in the right direction.’
Heidi was the woman who had made Martinssen leave the city. The thought had sometimes crossed Ludvig’s mind. Say goodbye to the stress in the capital and find himself a job in a small town. It had never happened and now his retirement was only a few years away.
‘It was active from 2005 to 2007 – that was the timeframe you were asking about, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s correct,’ Ludvig nodded. ‘Do you have a list of names?’
‘I can do better than that – I can get you a picture of every member as well as their names and addresses.’
‘Good work, Kjell, good work,’ Ludvig said, returning to his desk. ‘Will you be faxing it over?’
He regretted his words immediately.
‘Fax it, Ludvig?’ his colleague chuckled. ‘Don’t you have email?’
‘Email me. I meant, email me.’
‘I’ll get someone to scan it and send it to you as soon as it’s ready.’
‘Sounds great, Kjell. Great job.’
‘Do you think you’ll get him?’ His colleague sounded more serious now. ‘People are talking up here. People worry.’
‘We’ll get her,’ Ludvig said, then wondered if perhaps he had given something away.
‘Her? Stoltz? The one whose photo you sent us? Who is wanted for questioning?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Ludvig said, an idea coming into his head. ‘Is she in any of your pictures?’
‘Might be. I haven’t seen them yet. Heidi had to go down to the Volunteer Service Bureau to pick them up. She’s on her way here now. Hey, Rune, is our scanner working?’
The latter was shouted out into the room at the other end of the phone. His colleague got a positive response back.
‘If Heidi is right and she finds it, you’ll have it today, OK?’
‘Excellent,’ Ludvig said.
He had just finished the call when Gabriel Mørk popped his head into the room.
‘Have you heard anything from Munch or Mia?’
‘I spoke to Munch not long ago, but Mia isn’t answering her phone. Why?’
‘I just wanted to let her know that I think we’ll have the movie sorted sometime today. I’ve sent it to a mate of mine who knows how to clean up noise.’
‘Great,’ Ludvig said, and suddenly remembered what Munch had asked him. ‘You don’t happen to need some fresh air, do you?’
‘Why?’
‘Munch’s daughter needs some stuff, she’s up in that flat. Could you deal with it?’
‘All right,’ the young man said. ‘What does she need?’
‘Hang on,’ Ludvig said, checking his phone for the list Munch had sent him.
Chapter 69
Emilie Isaksen couldn’t believe her eyes when she stepped inside the small house. The hallway was dark and so full of junk she had trouble navigating it. The rest of the house wasn’t much better. Rotting food scraps, ashtrays, bags of rubbish no one had disposed of. Emilie just about managed not to pinch her nose. Even so, she tried putting on a brave face. She didn’t want to expose the little boy to more than he had already been through. All alone for a whole week in this dump of a home, without food or anyone to look after him. Emilie Isaksen was outraged, but she managed a smile.
‘Would you like to see our secret hiding place?’ Torben asked her.
He seemed overjoyed to have a visitor. He had seemed almost startled when he had opened the door to her, scared and with large, tearful eyes, but now he was starting to liven up.