‘Yes?’
Munch got a short message and ended the call almost immediately.
‘The Kiese film. We have the GPS coordinates. Take Curry with you, OK?’
Munch ran down the corridor without waiting for an answer.
Chapter 79
Mia Krüger awoke to the sound of what she presumed must be seagulls. She was back on her island. In the house she had bought to be alone. To get away from people. To get away from herself. She had self-medicated almost to death. The sea. The air. The birds. The calm. She was going to join Sigrid. It was too hard to be alone. When your whole family is gone. Dead. It was too hard not to have someone who understands. Sigrid had always understood. Lovely, beautiful, adorable Sigrid. Mia had never needed to say anything. I understand, Mia. Without even opening her mouth. Her lovely, warm eyes behind the blonde hair.
Now she was alone. No comfort. No peace. Just this house and the seagulls. Tough, intelligent, one-in-a-million Mia Krüger, Mia Moonbeam, the Native American with the sparkling blue eyes, one of Norway’s best murder detectives. Reduced to an exhausted eccentric on a remote island.
Mia’s mouth felt dry. She tried to open her eyes, but it was heavy going. A slow-motion transition from dream to reality with music in the background. A radio. Then the music stopped. She tried to open her eyes again, but her eyelids were stuck, and it wasn’t just her eyelids, it was all of her; she couldn’t move. Mia slipped quietly back into her dream Ö the coffee was brewing, the sound of the steamer in her kitchen on Hitra.
‘Hello, Mia?’
Mia Krüger opened here eyes to find Karen Nylund standing in front of her. The strawberry-blonde woman smiled and held up a bottle of water.
‘Would you like something to drink? I imagine you must be terribly thirsty?’
Mia suddenly remembered what had happened. Her body jerked automatically, trying to free itself. Something was covering her mouth. Her hands were taped to a chair. Her legs. Her legs as well. Taped down. The movements were instinctive: they came from her body, not from her brain, muscular panic; but it was futile. All she could move was her head.
‘You’re very sweet, you really are,’ Karen laughed, waving the water bottle in front of her. ‘Do you intend to go on like that? It’s fun to watch, so don’t let me stop you.’
Mia could feel that she was panicking but managed to calm herself down, push the panic aside. She breathed deeply into her diaphragm and looked around. Her police gaze. She was in a small house. A cabin. No, a house. The windowsills were white. The countryside. She was in the country. There was film of some kind on the windowpanes. You could look out, but no one could look in. Warmth and crackling behind her. An oven, no, an open fireplace. A sofa. A chair. 1960s. A rug on the floor. Multi-coloured. A door to the left. An old fridge. The kitchen. Another door. Ajar. A passage. A pair of muddy boots. A sweater. A raincoat.
‘Yes, it’s nice here, isn’t it,’ Karen said, putting the bottle on the floor. ‘Would you like me to show and tell?’
Mia tried to say something but managed only gurgling in her throat. The tape was covering her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, pressed it between her lips and felt the taste of glue.
‘If you want something to drink, then you mustn’t shout,’ Karen said. ‘We’re a long way from other people, so they can’t help you, but I don’t want you waking the child.’
There was a television screen in front of her. No, it wasn’t a television, it was a monitor connected to a computer. A keyboard. A mouse.
Karen turned on the screen.
‘Look, she’s asleep. We must be quiet. Shhh.’
Karen Nylund smiled and pressed her finger against her lips. The screen slowly came on, displaying an image of a sleeping girl. Marion. In a white room somewhere. The angle was bird’s-eye perspective, a web camera mounted in a corner.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Karen smiled.
She sat down by the table, softly caressing the screen. ‘We mustn’t wake the sleeping child.’
Karen took a step forwards and swiftly tore the tape off her face. Mia gasped for breath and coughed. She felt nauseous. The injection to her neck. She thought she was going to throw up.
‘There, have some water,’ Karen said, putting the bottle to her lips.
Mia gulped down as much as she could manage. The rest trickled down her chin and on to her jumper, into her lap and her thighs.
‘Good girl,’ Karen said, wiping her chin and the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.
‘Have you hurt her?’ Mia spluttered.
Her voice sounded strange and rusty.
‘Is that what you think?’ Karen smiled. ‘Of course I haven’t hurt her. I’m going to kill her, that’s true, but how can that hurt her?’
‘You bitch,’ Mia hissed, and spat at her.
Karen jumped aside and just avoided being hit.
‘Tut-tut, Mia! Do you want me to put the tape back, or will we try to behave?’
Mia could feel the rage surge violently inside her, but at the last second she managed to control herself.
‘I’ll be good,’ she said quietly. ‘Sorry.’
‘There, there, that’s better.’ Karen smiled, sitting down again.
‘Why me?’ Mia said.
‘Wow, straight to the point, is that how it’s going to be? Isn’t that a bit dull?’ Karen laughed. ‘Why don’t we play a little game first? I like games. Games are fun, don’t you think? Don’t you like playing games, Mia? Mia Moonbeam, what a lovely name. A little Native American girl who has been captured. How appropriate, wouldn’t you say?’
Mia said nothing. She closed her eyes and let her head slump towards her chest. Karen rose and came over to her.
‘Mia? Mia? Now, don’t you fall asleep, Mia, we’re going to play a game.’
Mia opened her eyes again and spat right into Karen’s face.
The strawberry-blonde woman was unprepared and her personality changed in a fraction of a second. Her smile was gone. Her eyes were flashing.
‘You fucking cunt.’
Karen Nylund raised her hand and slapped Mia across the face. The blow was hard. Mia’s head was flung backwards, she blacked out for a second and her eyes closed.
When she opened them again, the grotesque smile was back in place.
‘Would you like some cake?’ Karen smiled, tilting her head. ‘I baked it especially for you.’
‘Who the hell are you, really?’
‘Now, no swearing,’ Karen said. ‘It’s not necessary. That’s a rule. Agreed? That’s the rule of the game.’
Mia regained her composure and nodded. She glanced around a second time. The police gaze. She was trapped here. She was far away from other people. She was restrained. She would have to talk her way out. It was her only hope. Play along.
‘That’s a good rule,’ Mia said quietly, attempting a smile.
‘Excellent,’ Karen said, clapping her hands. ‘Who will begin? Why don’t I start?’
Mia nodded.
‘I grew up in this house,’ Karen said. ‘There was me, my mother, my sister and he who must not be mentioned.’
‘Your father?’ Mia said.
‘We don’t say his name.’ Karen smiled, sitting down by the table again. ‘Your turn?’
‘I grew up in Åsgårdstrand,’ Mia said. ‘With my sister and my parents. We lived in a white house, not far from Edvard Munch’s house. My grandmother lived close by.’
‘Boring,’ Karen smiled. ‘Party pooper. We already know that. Tell us something new, something we don’t know. Why don’t I say something?’
Mia nodded again.
‘My mother worked at Hamar Hospital. I came with her to work. She showed me everything. She had the softest hair in the world. I got to brush it. My sister was far too young, she only got to watch. One day she didn’t come home from work. Everyone knew what had happened, but the police did nothing. Isn’t that strange? That we live in a country where the police don’t care?’