Veigar and Dagný turned to them. Their faces weren’t visible, but it was clear they were less than happy with the skipper. ‘Was there any light there? Or smoke coming from the chimney?’
‘Uh, no.’ The old man took one step closer to Freyr as if to enlist him as a team-mate.
‘All right then. If they’re not here, we’ll go and check that house.’ They both turned back to the door and Veigar threw himself against the tired old wood. It gave a loud crack but didn’t budge. He tried again and at the third attempt the door flew open. ‘Oh, Christ!’ Dagný and Veigar turned aside and a second later the stench reached Freyr and the skipper, forcing them to cover their noses and mouths. ‘That’s fucking disgusting!’ Veigar spat on the porch and Freyr was tempted to do the same. The stench was unlike anything he’d ever smelled, and he’d encountered some rank odours in medical school. This one most resembled the smell that he remembered from forensic medicine when they’d opened the belly of a man who’d drowned and been found after several days in the sea. A salty, rotten stink.
Something shot out through the door and they all gasped. ‘What the hell was that?’ The captain now stood so close to Freyr that Freyr had to step slightly aside to avoid losing his balance. They waved their torches, searching silently for an explanation. Finally they saw a small creature trembling near Freyr, a little dog that had certainly seen better days. Its coat appeared sticky and had formed clumps in several places on its scrawny body. ‘I’d forgotten him; they brought this dog with them.’ The skipper held one hand to his chest. ‘Scared the shit out of me.’
‘Is there anything else you’ve forgotten to tell us?’ Dagný walked angrily past them to the dog. ‘It would be great if you’d share it with us before we go in.’ She bent down to the little animal, which initially took a few steps back but then went to her and allowed her to pick it up. ‘God, he’s shaking, poor thing. Do you remember his name?’
‘Hvutti, Patti, or something like that.’ The captain stared at the dog, not particularly kindly. ‘What a wretched little scrap. Call that a dog…’
Dagný didn’t answer him, but handed the dog to Freyr. ‘Keep your eye on him. I’m not planning to chase him around all over the place before we can go back.’ Freyr took the dog, which looked into his eyes as if to check whether he was trustworthy. Its little body felt like no more than skin and bones and it would probably be easy to forget he was holding it at all if it weren’t for the trembling that shook it from limb to limb. Freyr used his free hand to stroke the poor thing’s head, unafraid that it would bite. It really didn’t matter to him, and it might even make Freyr feel better. But the dog gave no indication of wanting to bite him and instead shut its eyes and relaxed slightly. Then it turned its head towards the house and growled softly, recovering its courage in the security of Freyr’s embrace. As he adjusted the creature in his arms he noticed that his hand was stained with something after touching the dog. He couldn’t see clearly what it was, but when he smelled his hand he realized it was blood. Instinctively he held the dog away from his body, then called to Dagný and Veigar: ‘The dog’s covered in blood!’ They turned to look. ‘But he’s not injured, so it must be from someone else.’ They nodded, their faces grave, and turned back to the house.
‘What?’ The captain shone his torch on the dog and stepped back when he saw what Freyr was talking about. ‘What the fuck…? This doesn’t look good.’ He turned towards the house. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to go in there.’
They watched Veigar and Dagný cover their noses and mouths in the crooks of their arms and walk in. Freyr and the old man said nothing, but through the curtainless windows they watched the torch lights move through the house. The lights stopped suddenly and moved up and down and back and forth in the same place. A few moments later one of the beams set off in the direction it had come from and Dagný appeared at the door, calling for Freyr.
‘Can you come inside? We’ve found a woman. She seems to be injured, I think you’d better look at her before we move her.’ Freyr handed the dog to the skipper, who was less than happy about taking the filthy creature and being left alone outside. But Dagný forbade him to move, and the seriousness in her voice made the man obey. In their haste, Dagný and Freyr neglected to defend themselves against the stench that met them like an invisible curtain in the doorway. But they forgot about it as soon as they were in. The little that Freyr could see of the house’s interior appeared to be much as he’d expected: everything rather old and battered, though in several places the owners’ attempts to renovate the place were visible – and even the dull light couldn’t hide how badly they’d done. ‘She’s here.’ Dagný made way for Freyr to enter the kitchen. ‘Watch out for the hole in the floor back there. You don’t want to fall down it; the smell seems to be coming from there.’ Veigar was hunched over a person lying face down on the floor, her head in a dark pool that Freyr hoped wasn’t blood, but suspected almost certainly was. That could explain the state of the dog.
Freyr searched the woman for signs of life. He ran his hands down the back of her neck. It was uninjured. He asked Veigar to pass him a knife, and used it to cut away the woman’s clothing. With her pale back exposed, he examined the remainder of her spine, which appeared undamaged, and couldn’t find any other injuries. Her breathing was irregular and rattly. ‘Help me turn her over, carefully.’ Veigar hurriedly obeyed and together they turned the victim onto her back. Veigar started in surprise when he saw her injuries. Bloody red crosses had been cut into her face, and she could count herself lucky that she hadn’t lost her eyes, the cuts had come so close to them. Freyr reached for Veigar’s torch and aimed the beam to get a better view. It took all his powers not to let the woman’s head fall back to the floor. Freyr could have sworn that he heard low, nasty, childish laughter coming from the hole in the floor behind him, but he was too flabbergasted even to be frightened.
It was Líf. Or what was left of her.
Chapter 33
Either the stench inside had gone or they’d become so impervious to it that they no longer smelled it; at least, none of them pinched their nostrils or wrinkled their noses any more. They’d been too busy searching for the other two people who were supposed to be in the house and looking after Líf to let the disgusting smell bother them; the group grew increasingly dismayed at each empty room they checked. The couple seemed to have vanished, and Veigar and Dagný’s trip to the doctor’s house in search of them had revealed nothing.
The old sea dog, now installed on a kitchen stool, let out frequent gusty sighs, shaking his head and muttering that he tried to warn people but no one ever listened, not even now. Freyr wasn’t certain how well Dagný and Veigar could hear him, since they’d gone into the crawl space through the hole in the floor. Veigar had taken a look in there first, stuck his head down to follow his torch beam but raised it again immediately, his face pale, delivering the news that down in the crawl space was a skeleton. Probably a child’s. Freyr had stood up from attending to Líf, whose condition was worsening slowly but steadily, and said that he was going down there, but Dagný had grabbed his arm and stopped him. She’d then followed Veigar down herself and soon afterwards stuck her head out to tell Freyr that it wasn’t his son. Then they’d both come up and gone to the kitchen to have a word in private. As they moved out of sight, Freyr had positioned Líf’s head carefully on his rolled-up jacket and gone over to the hole to see with his own eyes whether it was Benni. The barbed wire surrounding his heart tightened, and until he looked down into the dark, low space he felt as if he couldn’t breathe for grief. But Dagný hadn’t been lying – this couldn’t be Benni; the body had clearly been lying there for too long.