‘He was a good dog,’ he said. ‘I could sit in the car reading with the courtesy light on and the window open while he ran free, fifty metres in every direction. Dogs — and people — don’t need more. Many people don’t want more.’
Helene nodded. ‘All the same, some day they might want more and want to get away. What does the dog owner do then?’
‘I’ve no idea. My dog never wanted more.’ He had swung off the main road and onto a forest track. ‘What would you have done?’
‘Set it free,’ Helene said.
‘Even if you knew it wouldn’t survive alone out there?’
‘None of us survive.’
‘True,’ he said.
He slowed down. The road had ended. He switched off the engine and the headlights, and it turned pitch-black around them. She could hear the wind rustling through reeds, and between the trees they could see the sea and lights from the islands and headland further out.
‘Where are we?’
‘Just by the marshlands,’ he said. ‘That foreland there is Høvikodden, and the two islands are Borøya and Ostøya. Since they built houses out here this has become a popular place to walk. In the daytime it’s swarming with families. But at the moment, you and I have it completely to ourselves, Helene.’
He released his seat belt and turned to her.
Helene took a deep breath, closed her eyes and waited. ‘This is crazy,’ she said.
‘Crazy?’
‘I’m a married woman. This... is extremely bad timing.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m in the process of leaving my husband.’
‘Sounds to me like excellent timing.’
‘No.’ She shook her head without opening her eyes. ‘No, you don’t understand. If Markus found out about this before we discuss terms...’
‘Then you’ll get a few million less from him.’
‘Yes. What I’m doing now is plain stupid.’
‘So why are you doing it, do you think?’
‘I don’t know.’ She pressed her palms to her temples. ‘It’s like someone or something has taken over my mind.’ Just then she was struck by another thought. ‘What makes you think he has millions?’ She opened her eyes and looked at him. Yes, there was something familiar about him. Something in his eyes. ‘Were you at the party? Do you know him?’
He didn’t answer. Just smiled a little as he turned up the music. A theatrical vibrato singing something about scary monsters; she’d heard the song before but wasn’t able to place it.
‘The martini,’ she said with sudden certainty. ‘You were at Danielle’s. It was you who sent over that drink, wasn’t it?’
‘And what makes you think that?’
‘Standing behind me in the queue, coming over and sitting down, that’s not something you do during the interval at a play. That wasn’t by chance.’
He ran a hand through his hair and glanced in the mirror.
‘I confess,’ he said. ‘I’ve been watching you for a while. I’ve wanted to be alone with you. And now I am. So, what will we do?’
She drew a deep breath and unbuckled her own seat belt. ‘We’ll fuck,’ she said.
‘Unfair, isn’t it?’ Alexandra said. They had finished their meal and withdrawn to the restaurant bar. ‘I’ve always wanted a child but never had one. While you, who never wanted one...’ She snapped her fingers over her White Russian cocktail.
Harry took a sip of his water. ‘Life is rarely fair.’
‘And so random,’ she added. ‘Bjørn Holm sent in DNA to check if he was the father of... what’s the name of the boy again?’
‘Gert.’
Alexandra could see by Harry’s face this was not something he wanted to talk about. Nevertheless — perhaps because she had drunk a little more than she should have — she continued.
‘Turns out he isn’t. And right afterwards I run a DNA analysis of something which turns out to be your blood, check it by mistake against the entire database of paternity tests, and it emerges that you’re Gert’s father. If it hadn’t been for me—’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘What isn’t my fault?’
‘Nothing. Forget it.’
‘That Bjørn Holm killed himself?’
‘That he...’ Harry stopped.
Alexandra saw him grimace as though he were in pain somewhere. What was it he wasn’t telling her? What was it he couldn’t tell her?
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah?’ His eyes seemed to be fixed on the row of bottles on the shelf behind the barman.
‘It was that sex offender who killed your wife, right? Finne.’
‘Ask him.’
‘Finne is dead. If it wasn’t him, then...’
‘Then?’
‘You were a suspect.’
Harry nodded. ‘We always suspect the partner. And are usually right.’
Alexandra took a gulp of her drink. ‘Was it you, Harry? Did you kill your wife?’
‘A double of that there,’ Harry said, and it took a moment for Alexandra to realise he wasn’t talking to her.
‘This?’ the barman asked, pointing to a square bottle hanging inverted in a bracket.
‘Yes, please.’
Harry remained silent until the glass with the golden-brown liquid was in front of him.
‘Yes,’ he said, lifting the glass. Held it for a moment as though dreading it. ‘I killed her.’ Then he emptied the contents in a single go and had ordered a refill before the glass was back on the counter.
Helene got her breath back but remained sitting on top of him.
She had manoeuvred him over to the passenger side, reclined the seat while he turned on the dome light and put on a condom. Then had rode him like one of her horses, although without the same feeling of control. He had come without making a sound, but she had felt how his muscles had jerked and relaxed.
She had also come. Not because he had been an adept lover, but because she had been so horny before taking off her trousers and knickers that anything would have sufficed.
She could feel him going soft inside her now.
‘So why have you been stalking me?’ she asked, looking down at him lying flat on the recumbent seat, as naked as she was.
‘Why do you think?’ he asked, putting his hands behind his head.
‘You’ve fallen in love with me.’
He smiled and shook his head. ‘I’m not in love with you, Helene.’
‘No?’
‘I am in love, but with someone else.’
Helene could feel herself getting annoyed. ‘Are you playing games?’
‘No, I’m just telling you how it is.’
‘Then what are you doing here, with me?’
‘I’m giving you what you want. Or rather, what your body and mind want. Which is me.’
‘You?’ She snorted. ‘What makes you so sure that it couldn’t have been any man?’
‘Because I’m the one who’s planted that desire in you. And now it’s crawling and creeping inside your body and mind.’
‘The desire for you specifically?’
‘Yes, for me. Or, to be more precise, what’s creeping inside you desires to enter my intestinal tract.’
‘So sweet. You mean I want to take you with a strap-on? My husband once wanted me to do that when we started going out.’
The man who called himself Prim shook his head. ‘I mean the small intestines and the large intestines. Bacterial flora. So they can multiply. As for your husband, it’s news to me he wants to be penetrated from behind. When I was a little boy, he was the one who did the penetrating.’
Helene stared down at him. In bewilderment, but she knew she hadn’t misheard.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Didn’t you know your husband fucks boys?’
‘Boys?’
‘Little boys.’