“Come on, darling, have some food,” she whispered, but whenever Lily saw Anna’s breasts, which she used to worship, she would howl. At last, Anna squeezed out a drop of milk and tasted it. It was bitter. After four days of hell, she called Jens, who called Cecilie, and an hour later, Cecilie moved in. Cecilie wanted to open the door to Thomas’s office, but Anna threw a fit. Eventually Cecilie gave up, and the door remained closed.
“It must have been hard for you both,” Johannes said, when she had finished.
“For me and Cecilie or for me and Lily?” Anna asked.
“No, for you and Thomas,” he said.
“Don’t you dare defend Thomas!” Anna sneered. “We can’t be friends if you take his side!”
Johannes looked at her for a long time.
“No man wants to desert his woman and his child, Anna. No one in his right mind would do that. And, yes, it was hard for him. It was probably a thousand times harder for him than it will ever be for you. His pain will last his whole life. You’ll find another man, Lily will have another father. But Thomas will never have another you. Never.”
Anna started crying.
“Thomas said it was all my fault.”
“Yes, of course he did. What else could he say? How else would he explain himself? I don’t doubt for a second that you were hard work, Anna. You screamed and shouted, you hit him and you turned his life into a living hell. You’ve just told me. You give off twenty thousand volts. But nothing, nothing excuses cowardice. He could have done anything. Bound you, gagged you, had you committed or called the police, or fined you every time you freaked out, but he should have given you a chance. He should have given his family a chance. Leaving like that was cowardly. And you can’t live with a coward. Period.”
It was the period that had touched Anna the most. Johannes’s assurance. What Thomas had done wasn’t okay. Period. Later, they had talked about forgiveness, and Johannes had asked Anna if she intended to forgive her ex. Anna replied she didn’t know if she could.
“But you have to,” Johannes insisted. “Promise me you’ll forgive him. For your sake and for Lily’s.” He looked at her earnestly, and she looked away. Johannes stood up and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders.
“Anna, I mean it. If you don’t forgive him, you’ll never move on. Promise me you will.” Anna nodded, but Johannes didn’t let go of her.
“I’ll hold you to your promise,” he said. “And don’t take too long,” he added. “Hey, look at me!” Anna looked into his eyes without blinking.
“Johannes. I’ll forgive him. I promise you. Not today, please? But soon.”
Anna turned into Kongshøjgade and stopped dead. Three police cars were parked in the street outside Johannes’s apartment and a dozen people had gathered outside the stairwell, which was cordoned off with red-and-white police tape. Slowly, Anna walked closer, her heart pounding.
Chapter 10
Thursday morning Søren woke up far too early. He gave up trying to go back to sleep and got up. He lit a fire in the living room, heated frozen rolls in the oven, and forced himself to enjoy two minutes of home life wherein he wasn’t thinking about the case. At 7:20 a.m. it began to get light. Søren put on thick socks as he contemplated how cold it was for October. Perhaps it was a sign of a hard winter to come?
Søren remembered the ice winter of 1987 when Denmark had been landlocked with Sweden for over two months. Søren had been seventeen years old and Knud had taken him ice-fishing. They had put snow tires on Knud’s Citroën, set off in severe frost and brilliant sunshine, and driven across the ice to Sweden. A state of enjoyable mayhem had reigned on the ice with cars weaving gingerly in and out between each other, people on foot chatting as they pulled children on sleds, and skaters with scarves flapping in the wind. When they reached Sweden, they headed north. Knud had borrowed a friend’s cabin on an island.
“How can we fish when the lake is frozen solid?” a baffled Søren had asked as they walked across the ice to the island. Knud winked conspiratorially at him.
They had lazed about all weekend. They played cards or Mastermind and ate chocolate in the cabin. They threw logs on the fire and went for a walk around the island. Knud had brought a dartboard and they played outside until the light faded, wearing gloves so they could hold bottles of beer without getting frostbite on their hands. Knud asked Søren what was on his mind these days. Søren’s initial reaction was that it was a weird question, but then he got the urge to confide in his grandfather. Tell him the things he thought about, the people he thought about, who his real friends were and who weren’t, why he had been bored on a school visit to the Royal Theatre for a stage version of Hosekræmmeren, though he loved the original short story, why he didn’t have time for a girlfriend right now but there were some girls he liked; there was this girl in his class, her name was Vibe, she had completely green eyes.
It was evening now, there were millions of stars over Sweden, and they sat outside gazing at them, even though it was at least minus ten degrees. Knud made hot cocoa and warmed their sleeping bags by the fire and there they sat, like two fat caterpillars, in the darkness, in Sweden. Suddenly Søren turned to his grandfather and raised a subject they rarely discussed.
“There’s a boy in my year called Gert. He lost his parents when he was ten years old. Car crash. He’s gone completely off the rails. He cuts school, he drinks, and never does his homework. I think he might be expelled. They say he used to live with his aunt. I don’t know him all that well. I think she got fed up with him. So he went into foster care. Two different homes. Finally, he was sent to boarding school. He’s back with his aunt now, but only until he finishes school. If he finishes, that is.”
Knud stared into the darkness. The constellations were clear and the darkness between them endless.
“But I’m not unhappy, Knud,” Søren said. “I know Peter and Kristine are dead. I know they were my parents, and they loved me. But I’m not sad. Not about that.” He fell silent.
They sat next to each other without speaking for almost five minutes. Then, in a thick voice, Knud said, “Sometimes, when I look at you, I miss them so much I think my heart will break.”
Søren said nothing, but he took Knud’s hand.
Søren decided to go to work early rather than try to relax at home. The rising sun made the sky glow flaming red. The heater was on. Søren switched on his radio but turned it off again. He needed silence to review the last few days. The College of Natural Science simultaneously fascinated him and drove him insane. Practically all its staff were friendly and helpful, and they had answered his questions willingly, yet he still felt as if he had made no progress. As if they weren’t telling him everything.
The forensic evidence turned out to be equally inconclusive. There were prints everywhere in Helland’s office. Anna Bella Nor’s, Johannes Trøjborg’s, Professor Ewald’s, and Professor Jørgensen’s along with a million others. It made no sense. Nothing significant had been found on Helland, only a micro-layer of soap with a hint of lavender, which merely confirmed Helland had showered before going to work on the day he died. There were no prints, no skin cells, no sweat, and no saliva that wasn’t Helland’s. Everything confirmed if Helland had been murdered, it had technically happened three to four months ago.