Vibe nodded.
“And yet it’s the worst case I’ve ever been involved with. It touches every raw nerve. Everybody’s lying to me! Or, most of them are. They’re lying to protect something that isn’t worth protecting. Something they believe must remain hidden at any cost. Just like I did with Maja. The investigation only started five days ago. The papers call us clueless, but that’s a load of rubbish. It took us four weeks to solve the Malene case and we were praised for our swift work. They just write that because I’m not coming across very well.” He looked embarrassed. “And I always used to. I spoke to two reporters the other day. The headlines could have been worse. They should have said Top cop gets personal or something like it.” He swallowed.
“And I’ve fallen for with one of the suspects,” he said. Vibe didn’t reply. When he looked at her, she had turned to one side and didn’t appear to have heard his last confession.
“Are you okay?” Søren asked, scared. He thought about John, who had taken the dog for a walk and Vibe’s massive stomach, which looked as if it might burst at any moment.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not about to go into labor.” She smiled. “But…”
“But what?”
“I’ve got something to tell you, too.”
And then Vibe told Søren something that changed his life.
Afterward Søren thought long and hard.
Henrik had been right. Things weren’t always black and white.
Chapter 13
As promised, Karen was waiting on the platform when Anna and Lily arrived at Copenhagen central station after their visit to Odense. She was carrying a plastic bag full of chips and bottles of wine, which she nearly dropped when she hugged Anna. Anna froze, but Karen whispered, “Never let me go,” and Anna cautiously put her arms around her.
Lily’s turn was next. Sleepy and groggy, she received the greeting of her life from a woman she had never met. Anna had to laugh, and Lily showed how wrong all theories on how quickly an object can melt could be. She radiated, even more so when Karen conjured up a teddy. Lily wanted to hold Karen’s hand, Karen wanted to hold Anna’s hand, and together they walked through an almost deserted station to the taxi stand.
When Lily had been put to bed, they made themselves comfortable in the living room. Karen wanted to know everything. Anna showed her photos from Lily’s birth, of Thomas in the maternity ward, sitting down with Lily in his arms, and standing, smiling, flanked by Cecilie and Jens. Karen made no attempt to hide her interest and looked at the photographs for a long time.
“Well, it’s obvious,” she said, at last.
Anna didn’t understand. Karen pointed to Thomas.
“He’s way out of his depth.”
Anna took the photographs. She thought Thomas was gorgeous. Relaxed, calm, on top of things. Everything she had ever dreamed of. His chin was lifted, his gaze was confident.
“Watch his hand.” Anna followed Karen’s finger. “You don’t clench your fist in the hospital when you’ve just become a dad. And look into his eyes.”
Anna looked into his bright blue eyes.
“His fear is killing him. And you’re probably just as terrifying.” Karen’s eyes flashed. “If you’re a wimp, I mean.”
Anna mulled it over. Then she started to laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“At you,” Anna replied. “At your ability to wave your wand and put everything into perspective. By the way, what on earth were you thinking, calling Troels after we spoke last night, you dork. Are you trying to save the world?”
“How do you know about that?” Karen asked, not looking the least bit embarrassed.
“I saw him today.” Anna was serious now. “It was really weird. It started off all right. In fact, I was pleased to see him. But then it went wrong, somehow. There was something… strange about him.”
Karen looked at Anna for a long time. Her gaze was warm. Then she said, “I really wanted us to be friends again. All three of us. Like in the old days. It was the best time of my life. The years with you. I want that again.”
Anna hugged her.
“You hopeless romantic,” she said into Karen’s hair. The ice was broken, it had melted and the water was warm. They drank all the wine and ate all the chips. They put the world to rights. Anna found she couldn’t stop talking, and Karen laughed at everything she said. If only Søren could see me now, Anna thought triumphantly. Anna in her living room, relaxed, tipsy on red wine, in the company of a good friend. She began to cry. Karen gave her a worried look and took her hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she wanted to know.
“Do you know who Sara is?” Anna said, looking straight at Karen. Karen’s mother had been Cecilie’s best friend. Always and forever. And Karen and her mother were close and shared everything. What if everyone knew who Sara was? Everyone except Anna?
“Nope,” Karen replied. “I don’t know anyone named Sara. Who is she?”
An idea occurred to Anna. The photograph. It was hanging to the right of the stove in its lacquered wooden frame, looking at her, like a face. She got up.
“What is it?” This unexpected shift in mood mystified Karen who straightened up in the sofa.
“Hang on.” Anna wiped her eyes and took down the picture.
“How old am I here?” she asked.
“I don’t know… two? I don’t know anything about children,” Karen said, apologetically.
“It’s summer in this photo. I’m wearing a vest. Cecilie is in a bikini. So I must be between eighteen months and two and a half. And I don’t think it’s the latter. I still have those chubby breastfeeding cheeks. So my guess is eighteen months. Do you agree?”
“Er, all right.” Karen scratched her head. Anna fetched her handbag and took out Ulla’s photograph. She showed it to Karen.
“That’s you and Jens, right?” Karen said. “Gosh, Lily looks so much like you!”
“This photo was taken in August 1978. I’m roughly eight months old in that photo. So I’m eighteen months in one picture and eight months in another, do you follow?”
Karen nodded. Anna fetched a letter opener from her desk and placed the framed photograph face down.
“What are you doing?”
“My parents are lying,” she snorted. The old frame was an obstinate devil. The small brackets had practically rusted into the cardboard backing.
“About what?” Karen was completely lost.
“Turn that photo over.” Anna nodded in the direction of Ulla’s photograph on the table while she struggled. By now, she didn’t care if she broke the stupid frame. Karen sat diagonally behind her, curled up in the sofa, and Anna sat on the edge, using the coffee table as her workspace. Finally, the stubborn brackets started flying.
“Sara Bella and Jens, August 1978,” Karen read out loud. “I still don’t get who Sara is?”
“Don’t ask me.”
Anna slipped the letter opener under the cardboard backing.
“Spooky,” Karen mused. “Perhaps you had a twin sister who died?” Anna stopped in her tracks. This was an explanation she hadn’t even considered. She examined it quickly.
“That baby,” she pointed the letter opener at Ulla Bodelsen’s photograph, “is me. And this baby,” now indicating the picture she was easing out, “is me as well. The girls are identical.”
“Identical twins,” Karen whispered, dramatically.
“It makes no sense, Karen. Why would my parents keep it a secret that I had a twin sister who died? Anyway, that can’t be it. Ulla, the health visitor I saw today, said nothing about twins.” The cardboard came off, underneath it the faded backside of the photograph appeared. Anna cheered. On it someone had written Anna Bella, Dad, and Mom. July 1979.