The Water's Edge Part 2

Granas Farm consisted of a farmhouse, a storehouse, two cottages and a barn and three hundred and fifty acres of farmland. An avenue of tall birches led up to the farm and you could see that the wind from the loch had taken its toll on the treetops. The icy air hit Sejer and Skarre as soon as they got out of their car. In the hollow below they could see an old cottage. It was dilapidated, but it could be argued that it still retained a peculiar charm of its own. Some thriving, but untidy scrub grew along the walls and a fine layer of snow covered the gra.s.s surrounding the cottage.'What do you think?' Sejer asked.'Don't know yet,' said Skarre.The men walked around the cottage until they found the entrance marked by two old wooden posts covered by dried hops. Sejer looked at the farm. He saw the old greenhouse with its broken windows, a stationary tractor and a black cat slinking through the snow. A Toyota Carina was parked inside a lean-to of corrugated iron next to the barn. It was well maintained for its age and it was white.'He may or may not be in a wheelchair,' Sejer said, 'but he does drive a car. And why hasn't he had a ramp installed to his front door? How does he get up and down the steps?'He turned to Skarre.'Who were the officers who interviewed him the first time?''Don't know.'Sejer looked towards the kitchen window. He could swear he detected movement behind the curtain, a face that quickly retreated. He went up the steps; nothing happened. He deliberately fumbled loudly with the door handle, then he waited, before knocking several times. Finally they heard noises from within. The door was opened slightly and a man peered out. The sharp light hit his face and caused him to squint. His hair was grey, almost straw-like, his skin was pallid and in dire need of some suns.h.i.+ne, as it had a bluish tint. He was sitting in a wheelchair, an older model, his hands resting on its wheels.'Wilfred Brein?' Skarre asked.The man scowled at them. His s.h.i.+rt, faded and worn, was hanging loosely outside his jeans. On his feet he wore brown leather slippers whose st.i.tching was coming apart. But it was something else that caught Sejer's attention. The man's resemblance to Hans Christian Andersen was striking.'Police,' Sejer said. 'We would like to come inside for a few minutes.'Brein measured the men with his eyes. 'Why do you want to come inside?' he snarled. He kept his hands on the wheels as if, at any moment, he might reverse and slam the door.'Just a routine visit,' Sejer a.s.sured him, 'in connection with a case we're working on. We have a few questions, it won't take long.'Brein jutted out his chin. He clearly wanted to signal something, they were just not sure what because he looked so pathetic. Besides, there was something about his legs which aroused Sejer's suspicions. His thighs were muscular, they showed no sign of wastage.'It's to do with a witness statement,' Sejer said. 'There's something we need to clear up.''A witness?' Brein said curtly. 'What do you mean witness?''Witnesses claim to have seen you in Linde Forest. On Sunday the fourth of September in the afternoon. They saw you as you pa.s.sed the barrier. You were heading for your car. I know it's been a long time, but I'm asking you to think back.'Brein's face became closed, his pallid cheeks turned hollow.'I know it's difficult to remember after all this time, but might they be right?' Sejer asked.Brein rolled his eyes theatrically.'You're barking up the wrong tree completely,' he muttered. 'Haven't you got eyes in your head?' He banged his fists against the wheels of the chair.'Please excuse me,' Sejer said, 'but I presume that you only use your wheelchair occasionally. And that you have better days when you can get about unaided. Given that you have also been seen in the ICA superstore, and furthermore you drive an old Toyota Carina. Which hasn't been adapted for wheelchair use. Or has it? Do you mind if I check?'He nodded in the direction of the Toyota.Brein grimaced. 'I walk with great difficulty,' he maintained.Sejer nodded sympathetically. 'Precisely. But there are clearly exceptions. Perhaps the fourth of September was one of them, perhaps it was one of your better days and you went for a walk in Linde Forest.''I couldn't possibly go for a walk with this hip,' Brein said, placing a hand on his right hip and giving Sejer a look of suffering.'It was crushed by a Volvo on a pedestrian crossing. The joint is stainless steel and it aches.''I see,' said Sejer, still being exquisitely polite. 'But there may have been something you needed to do up there?''Which case is this?' Brein asked. His eyes had become evasive now. They flickered around the farmyard, to the barn and the stationary tractor.'Jonas August Lwe and Edwin Asalid,' Sejer said. 'We've appealed for you to come forward in the newspapers and on every TV channel, several times. To put it plainly, we've been looking for you for nearly four months.'Brein placed his hands on his knees. He had large hands with yellow fingernails.'I read about it in the papers,' he said. 'About the two boys.'He tried to get comfortable in the chair and did so with exaggerated effort.'They were in all the papers. Huseby was invaded by journalists for weeks. I don't see how it concerns me, what all this fuss is about. This is the second time you've come knocking on my door. And I've told you all I'm going to tell you,' he added.'Did you go to Linde Forest on the fourth of September?' Sejer asked him.'I have been known to drive up there,' he said. 'People up there would recognise me because I used to live on Linde Farm when I was a boy. We rented the brewer's cottage.''Did you see two people?' Sejer asked. 'A couple in their thirties, right by the barrier?''Are you deaf?' Brein yelled. 'I wasn't there on the fourth of September. My hip was playing up.'Skarre took a step forward. 'You were seen,' he said firmly.Brein tightened his grip on the wheels. 'Your witnesses are mistaken,' he said.'Please let us in,' Sejer persisted. 'Let's have a talk. You're very important to us because if you were up there, you might have seen something that can help us.''I saw nothing.''They noticed that you walk with difficulty,' Skarre said. 'Because you do, don't you?'Brein shrugged.'I'm not the only man with a limp around here,' he retorted.'Of course not,' Skarre said. 'But we have good reason to believe that it was you. It's to do with your appearance. What was your business up there, can you tell me something about that?'Brein fished a packet of cigarettes out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket. The men followed his movements as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth. He found a disposable lighter and inhaled greedily.'Well, what might a man be doing in a forest,' Brein speculated. 'Berry-picking, perhaps?'Sejer made no reply. The fact that Brein had lit a cigarette might mean that he was prepared to continue talking to them, so they stayed where they were.'No, honestly, I don't go to the forest very much,' Brein said casually. The cigarette glowed against his pale face.Obviously he's a suspect, Sejer thought, he confirms all our prejudices. All the same, he might be innocent. We must proceed with caution.'If you happen to think of anything later,' Sejer said, 'something you need to tell us, we would really like you to get in touch.''You don't say,' said Brein.Sejer considered the disturbing fact that they had no grounds for interviewing him. He had been spotted in the relevant area, but he had no previous convictions and there was nothing that linked him to the crime. I've only got one card left to play, he thought, and I've got to play it now.'However, there's an easy way,' he started, 'to put an end to this. But it requires your co-operation.''It would be a relief to get this over with,' Brein said.He was angry now. Angry that they hara.s.sed him when his life was already filled with anguish and misery.'It so happens,' Sejer went on, 'that we have obtained some evidence. And with your help we can eliminate you.''What are you talking about?' Brein asked suspiciously.'You volunteer to give us a saliva sample.'A deathly silence followed. Brein's eyes narrowed.'I refuse to be treated like a criminal,' he exploded.'A DNA test would also prove your innocence,' Skarre argued.'I haven't killed those boys,' Brein raged, 'and that's G.o.d's honest truth. I've got nothing else to say to you!'He flicked the cigarette away and reversed the wheelchair back down the hallway. He struggled considerably to shut the door, but after several clumsy attempts he finally managed to slam it.Sejer and Skarre looked at each other. They were both grinning broadly.'What do you think the court will say?' Sejer said.'They might throw it out,' Skarre suggested.'They might,' Sejer said, 'but we're not doing anything illegal.''No.''And evidence gathered in this way would be admissible in court. Wouldn't it?''And no one can claim that we lied to Brein. Or entrapped him.''No, they can't.''We've just had an incredible stroke of luck. And what if we get a match?''Then it becomes his defence counsel's problem,' Skarre said. 'Let's risk it.''Let's risk it,' Sejer agreed.He squatted down and looked closely at the cigarette Brein had tossed aside.'Do you have an evidence bag?'

CHAPTER 38

Sejer looked at the photographs of Edwin and Jonas August.'Have you considered that it would take three Jonases to make one Edwin? Jonas weighed twenty-eight kilos. Edwin weighs nearly ninety.'Skarre studied the boys. One tiny and skinny, the other huge and obese. 'Just as well the public can't see us now,' he said, 'sitting here, making fun of the boys. Where are you going with this?''I'm not making fun of them. It's a fact.''But is it relevant? That they are extremes?''I don't think it means anything in particular. They were walking along the road when he drove by. They both got into his car, which might mean that they knew him. However, I doubt that they would know Brein and that's why I hesitate. And I'm not buying the wheelchair story.''Surely people don't have a wheelchair in their home unless they need it?' Skarre protested. He felt restless. He started pacing the floor. 'What if Brein does a runner while we sit here twiddling our thumbs.''We're not twiddling our thumbs,' Sejer said, 'and I can't imagine that he is going anywhere with that bad hip of his. You need to calm down. You're pinning everything on him. Don't do it: you could end up terribly disappointed.'Skarre walked to the door. 'Come on,' he said. 'We're going out. We can walk and talk, I need some fresh air. It's got to be him, it's got to be Brein. I can't bear another dead end, not after all this time.'They went out into the city. A little more snow had fallen, a fine powdery layer. The sight of the snow made them feel ill at ease. They thought of Edwin Asalid and images of a frozen body started taking shape in their minds.'So you think Brein's our man?' Sejer said. 'Does he confirm all our prejudices?''He's on benefits,' Skarre said. 'He's a loner. He has little money, dresses badly, finds it hard to interact with adults. Rather scruffy, a bit of a loser. Yes, of course he fits the profile. But there might be another side to him, which so far we've failed to see. Something n.o.ble, even, what do I know?''Something n.o.ble? Why n.o.ble?''I don't know. I just don't want to be prejudiced, though I think it's probably too late for that. You saw him too, you must have formed an impression?''We're all prejudiced,' Sejer said. 'It's a vital part of our survival instinct. What did you think when we were standing outside Brein's front door? Your gut reaction. Be honest.''I thought that it might be him. That he might have killed Edwin and Jonas August. What did you think?''That he might be innocent. We've got to be very careful.''I knew it,' Skarre said. 'You're a better person than I am.'A few snowflakes had landed on Sejer's grey hair. His sharp profile stood out clearly against the white background.'We have nothing to fear, we live in a country with a decent legal system,' he said. 'If it turns out we have a DNA match, Brein will have access to a defence counsel and anything else he might need. He will be treated humanely and given plenty of time to tell us his side of the story. Jonas August won't have that privilege and neither will Edwin. They have lost the rest of their lives, and their deaths were horrific. They were alone and they were terrified. I think about that a great deal.''I try not to,' Skarre admitted. 'The thought of it chills me to the bone.''It has its uses,' Sejer said. 'You need to keep the crime in mind and remember how evil it was. And for that matter, the role we play in all this.''Which is what?''Well, you know,' Sejer said. 'We get involved and we restore order and dignity.''Good heavens,' Skarre exclaimed. 'That's beyond us. All we can do is clean up, Konrad.''Don't underestimate yourself or your own purpose.''What do you think the prosecutor will say?' Skarre said.'That Jonas August died in particularly aggravating circ.u.mstances. And that the punishment should reflect it. But the man in the dock, if we end up with a man in the dock, will be preoccupied with saving his own skin, and that's his right. But I can't stop myself from saying that a little remorse would be appropriate. There is not enough remorse in Norwegian prisons. And remorse would help the victim's family. Mankind can be very magnanimous, given the chance.''Is that your honest opinion?''It's a belief that sustains me.'Skarre bent down and scooped up some snow in his hands, pressing it together into a rock-hard ball.'Here we are waiting for the results of the DNA test,' he said, 'and Brein is pottering about in blissful ignorance. I can't stand it.'

CHAPTER 39

Elfrid Lwe had come to the police station where she spent a long time talking to Jacob Skarre. He listened with kindness and attention, resting his chin on his hand.'Jonas was a quick and gentle boy,' she said. 'Nimble like a squirrel, up and down the stairs like the wind. Curious, eager and positive. Sometimes he would look at me with his large, blue eyes, hungry for love. He needed so much attention, and I could offer him an endless supply, it was just the two of us. At school he was quiet and shy, his teacher was always telling me so at parents' evenings. Jonas is a little pa.s.sive, she said, it would be good if he could try to be a little more a.s.sertive in lessons. He suffered from a number of allergies, but he managed his medication himself. I thought it was going well on the whole, but I always worried about his asthma. And he was tiny. Perhaps that's what held him back. I'm sure you'll start growing soon and you'll be big and strong in a few years, I used to say. Mothers always say things like that because we can't bear our children's disappointment when something upsets them, it tears us apart.'But he was as good as gold, well-behaved and polite, so if an adult asked him to do something, I mean, like get into a car, because I suppose that's what happened, well, he would have got into the car because he was so trusting and because I taught him to be kind to everybody. So now I'm thinking it's all my fault. That if he had been a street-wise and shrewd boy then he would be alive today. But he thought the best of everyone and because of that he died, that's how it seems to me. I blame myself every hour of the day and I'll carry this guilt to my grave. The vicar has been to see me. I let him in because I don't want to hurt his feelings. He just stands there and he so desperately wants to help. He says that the only person who is to blame is the man who killed Jonas. He says I should remember Jonas with joy and cherish the memories, and I do because the memories are happy, but it's so hard. When I see other mothers with their children, I just want to scream. If I had another child, I would still have a reason to get up in the morning; now I'm just sitting there staring out of the window. My hands lie useless in my lap, no one needs me, no one bothers me. There's no point in going to bed at night, I don't need to get up in the morning. There is nothing to make me want to live the rest of my life.'I used to sit by his bedside every evening. He would curl up under the duvet and his eyes would plead with me for comfort and encouragement, he needed so much support. We would talk about the day that had just pa.s.sed and the day that was to come. I would think of some treat to look forward to, something to make him fall asleep with a smile on his face. That we would cook something special for tea the next day or watch a film together in the evening, the two of us, snuggled up on the sofa. All children deserve to have a treat every single day, all children deserve to be pampered.'The worst moments are when my thoughts take control of me and I start to imagine what his last few hours must have been like. The pictures in my head are so disgusting they make me scream. What he had to go through. I don't know whether to think about it in all its horror so that I can suffer with Jonas or whether I should suppress it. The vicar says it's finished now and that Jonas isn't suffering any more, I'm the only one suffering now and he's right about that. I thought his funeral was so beautiful, the organ music and the flowers, and the poem that his teacher read out loud. I had to translate it into Norwegian for my parents, they don't speak any English. I visit his grave every single day. It took me for ever to choose his headstone; none of them was good enough. The one I chose was far too expensive. I had to take out a loan, but they were kind to me at the bank, they gave me a good rate. They all know about Jonas. The stone is heart-shaped with a cut-out in the middle and in it there is a lamp which lights up at night. There's an inscription underneath his name.You were my darling angel.

Now there is only silence.'Sometimes when I'm walking towards the church I notice how people stop at Jonas's grave. They stand there with a mixture of embarra.s.sment and curiosity. It doesn't upset me, I like it that people stop and think, and then I wait until they've gone because I don't want to make them feel uncomfortable. I have reserved the plot next to him for myself, we're going to lie close to each other and I look forward to that. I'm not scared of dying. Jonas has done it, so I can do it too. I don't know much about eternity, but perhaps it's all right. I talk and talk and you listen with reverence. Perhaps you think that I'll be fine eventually because I can put words to my feelings. But the reality is that silence terrifies me.'

CHAPTER 40

'I've realised something,' Skarre said. 'We're always too late.''What do you mean?' Sejer said. 'Too late for what?''Once we arrive, the disaster is already a fact. Someone has lost control and the worst has happened. We can't ease the pain, either: isn't that a depressing thought?'Sejer allowed himself a lenient smile. 'If you wanted to save lives, you should have become a fireman.'Skarre circled the room restlessly. They were both waiting for the fax machine from which the result of Brein's saliva sample would soon emerge. They were paying the lab extra for a quick response.'What are we going to do about Edwin?' Skarre asked. 'Even if we do get a perfect match, we have nothing to link Brein to Edwin.''I know. It's going to be a long winter.''That reminds me,' Skarre said. 'I was in Kaffebrenneriet the other day with some friends. And in a corner was a guy I recognised.''Go on?''It was Ingemar Brenner.''Tulla Asalid's boyfriend?''Tulla's boyfriend with a younger woman. At least twenty years younger. Blonde, attractive and giggling.''He must have finished with Tulla then,' Sejer said, 'and found himself a new girlfriend.''Or he's defrauding her,' Skarre said. 'Like he normally does. And I can't bear to think of that. Given what else has happened.''We mustn't jump to conclusions. Perhaps she's a relative. There's a lot we don't know.''Relatives don't snog each other,' Skarre said. 'I think we should warn Tulla, I think we owe her that. She's got enough to worry about as it is.''We're police officers,' Sejer objected. 'We don't get involved with people's love lives.''But this isn't about love,' Skarre argued. 'He's after her money.''I must remind you that Brenner has served his sentence. You have to give him a break.'Skarre shook his head. 'Tulla's the one who deserves a break.''All right,' Sejer said. 'You win. Let's see if the right moment comes along.'Skarre went over to the fax machine, bent down and stared at it.'What are you doing?''I'm summoning up an answer,' Skarre said. 'Human beings are filled with psychic energies which we never use. I'm summoning them now.'Sejer gave him a strange look. 'Now listen to me,' he said calmly. 'You don't like Wilfred Brein. You think he's a self-important and unsympathetic man and it would suit you very well if he turns out to be guilty. Elfrid Lwe would derive some small comfort and the general public would breathe a sigh of relief. But just because a man behaves brusquely towards the police doesn't mean he's guilty. Lots of people have very strong feelings about us.''Why are you suddenly lecturing me?''To save you disappointment,' Sejer said. 'The fact that he went up there doesn't link him to the crime. Besides, he does appear to have a bad hip.''Very well,' Skarre said. 'So he abducted Jonas August on one of his good days.'He crossed the floor and opened the door to the corridor.'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go down to the canteen.'They found seats by the window and drank some Farris mineral water, faking a calm they did not possess. They waited. They watched people come and go. They studied the snowflakes falling outside. m.u.f.fled sounds drifted through the room, the clinking of gla.s.s and cutlery and muted voices. The smell of coffee. Skarre smoothed out a paper napkin. Sejer fiddled with his mobile phone, there were no new calls, no new messages. They waited. From time to time they glanced at each other across the table, then they looked away and sought out the window, the falling snow.Finally they could no longer contain their curiosity. They returned to the office and settled down in their chairs in deep thought. There was nothing more to say. It was during this loaded silence that the fax machine finally started whirring and the men shot up and rushed over to it. Sejer s.n.a.t.c.hed the sheet, leaned against the wall, his eyes racing across the few lines. Then he let his hand drop.'So what have we got?' Skarre asked.'A match,' he said. 'Irrefutable, undeniable proof.'

CHAPTER 41

Brein opened the door. He was standing on his own two feet this time, but when they told him why they had come, he collapsed against the door frame.'No!' he screamed. 'I want you to leave me alone!'They allowed him a few minutes to sort out of a couple of essential things such as packing his blood-thinning medication, which he claimed his life depended on. He asked to call his father, but they told him no. He put a packet of cigarettes in his pocket and followed them to the police car. He did not utter a single word during the thirty-minute drive to the station. Sejer watched him in the mirror. Now it was Brein's turn to look like a small boy who had been abducted.Once they reached the station he was placed in a cell, where he sat for four hours. He perched on the edge of the bench and stared down at his lap, at his hands with their blue veins. Several times he got up and went over to look out of the window. The cell faced a backyard with a brown Portakabin and several parked patrol cars. He saw Volvos and Fords. A row of green wheelie bins was lined up against the Portakabin. He paced the floor. He could take only a few steps before he had to turn around. He thought about those who had occupied the cell before him, thieves and robbers, murderers. He had nothing in common with them. He sat down on the bench once more and folded his hands. No one had come to check up on him, to see if he was all right, didn't they have to do that? They had promised him something to eat, but no food had arrived.He felt a sudden urge to lie down and close his eyes, but it would be like surrendering, and he did not want to surrender, he was going to fight. So he continued to perch on the edge and to despair. He listened to the sounds outside, the traffic, scattered voices and shouts. Sometimes he would shudder violently, his heart racing; he had nodded off and woken up with a jerk. A cup of coffee would have been nice, he thought, another human being, a voice.The four hours turned into a restless walk between the bench and the window; all the time he was trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. Listen to me, he wanted to say, I can explain, it's not what you think! They seemed friendly enough and polite, and they did have rules to follow, but he didn't want to be naive, he didn't want to weaken, they weren't going to get him, they weren't going to pin something on him which wasn't true. For a moment he raged with indignation at everything that had happened. He had been carried along by life itself, temptation had dropped right into his hands, and he had acted in accordance with his desires, it was like falling into a river and being swept along by the current. Wasn't he merely being human? He sensed how the heat surged through his body, and then he collapsed once more, because deep down he knew better, of course he did. They would show him no mercy, they would reel off their accusations, drag him through the mud like he was something inferior. Distraught, he tried to keep control of his thoughts, because it felt safer, but they overpowered him and he bowed his head in shame.

CHAPTER 42

Wilfred Arent Brein was not a handsome man. Nature had not been kind to him. He had a gaunt face and thin lips devoid of colour. He was conscious of his shortcomings and it showed; his eyes were evasive and changed, at times, to a sullen look.'I was promised something to eat,' he began.Sejer was reminded of a stray dog begging.'Oh?' he said. 'Were you? We'll see to it. Presently.'He sent Brein a questioning look. 'You haven't eaten much recently?'Brein scowled at him. 'I think you owe me an explanation.' He tried to sound a.s.sertive, but there was not much strength left in his feeble voice.Sejer leafed through a pile of papers on the table, checked the time and read a few sentences on a doc.u.ment.'Why haven't you been eating?''Surely it's my own business how much I eat,' Brein said. He jerked his head. It was a repet.i.tive, nervous twitch.'Of course,' Sejer said. 'I was just expressing concern. You've been having problems?''I live with a great deal of pain,' he said. 'I have done for years. Some days all I can do is lie on the sofa and groan. But you need to explain to me why I'm sitting here,' he added. 'You owe me that much.''I owe you nothing,' Sejer said, 'for the time being. If it turns out I've made a mistake, you'll get an apology. So far I haven't made a mistake.' Then, in a friendly voice, 'Did you know Jonas August?'Brein jumped instantly. He had not meant to, he knew he had to be strong to save himself, but the boy's name rang like a bell in his ears and he shuddered. The room they were in was white, bare and windowless. The table, which separated them, had yellowed with age and the varnish had started to peel. There was something shabby about the furniture, as though it had been bought from some second-hand shop. On the ceiling a fluorescent tube cast a garish light over the stone floor. A camera had been placed in a corner of the ceiling. The lens followed him like an evil, foreboding eye. Sejer repeated his question.'Did you know Jonas August?''I think you need to explain why I'm here,' Brein said again.'You have no idea why you've been arrested?''No. I mean, come on. You can't just pick up people and put them in a cell like this,' he complained.'Yes,' Sejer said, 'we can and I'm happy to get straight to the point. Let's not waste time; after all, you're hungry. This is about Jonas August Lwe. He was found on the fourth of September up at Linde Forest. The forensic pathologist has established that he was subjected to a violent attack, which caused his death, and we can link you to the crime with irrefutable evidence. Did you know him?'Brein shook his head in disbelief. He was still unable to grasp the situation. Sejer's confidence frightened him, his composure and authority were menacing.'Irrefutable evidence?' he stammered. 'No, I don't believe that.''DNA,' Sejer explained.Brein rummaged around his memory feverishly, but he failed to see the connection.'I haven't given you a sample,' he said. 'You're trying to entrap me.''You're already trapped. And if you're interested in telling your side of the story, then now is your chance. It's your best option. Jonas August didn't have that chance.'Brein shook his head again. 'This is some sort of trick.''No,' Sejer said, 'it's very simple.' He changed tack. 'Did you know him?''I didn't kill those boys,' Brein said.'I didn't say you had.''But that's what you're thinking. You think that I killed Jonas and Edwin, but I didn't!''We want to make sure we find out what really happened,' Sejer said. 'In order for us to do that, you need to work with us.''All right. But then you have to believe me, because I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know Jonas,' he said. 'I had only seen him a few times walking along the road, a little lad with skinny legs and trousers that were too big for him.'He started digging a nail into a dent in the table. While he talked he avoided meeting Sejer's scrutinising eyes.'I can't deny that I've been driving around looking at the kids,' he said, 'and pay attention to what I said. Looking at them, that's all. I know what you're thinking, but you're completely wrong.''You know nothing about what I think,' Sejer said. 'Go on.''I can't help that I'm attracted to children,' Brein said. 'I've always been like that. But I was too scared to tell anyone you probably know this already. So I kept it all to myself, and that was very hard. It was a lot to handle for a small boy, because I was only ten when I started to have these feelings. There was a boy at the farm next to ours, and I was in love with him, he was only six, and I didn't know what to do with myself when he was around. I was all over the place.''So what did you do?' Sejer asked.'I would watch him in secret,' he said. 'I would dream and fantasise. Needs must.''So you prefer boys?''Yes,' Brein said. 'Boys. I like their small bodies and their delicate limbs. I like that they are frightened and shy, I like everything about them, I like the smell and the sound and the taste of them.' He was growing more animated, his cheeks were gaining colour.'How do they taste?' Sejer wanted to know. His face was deathly serious.'Well, what can I say?' He shook his head. 'Like green apples.'His words were followed by silence. The only noise was a low humming from the fluorescent tube on the ceiling.'Can I smoke in here?' he asked hopefully.'No.'Sejer's reply was followed by another silence and Sejer waited. It would take time to uncover the truth, but he did not mind because he wanted to know. He wanted to map the crime down to the smallest detail. He wanted to measure and weigh it, turn and twist it, view it from every possible angle. His heart was beating calmly. He felt in control, in here he reigned supreme, in here he was, as Skarre put it, the man who could charm the birds off a tree.'Were there any episodes you found particularly difficult when you were growing up?' he asked. 'It's quite all right to talk about such things.'Brein gave him a despondent look. 'Everything was difficult,' he said. 'It was when I entered my teens that the trouble really started. Isn't it about time you got yourself a girlfriend, young man? You know what aunts and uncles are like.''I do.''So, of course, I was isolated,' Brein went on. 'I didn't fit in. I spent a lot of time on my own. Besides, I felt deeply ashamed about it all. People can't be serious when they tell us we need to come forward with our feelings, they've no idea how bad it is.''Yes,' Sejer said. 'I have an idea how bad it is.''I can only dream about what the rest of you take for granted,' Brein said.'No one can take love for granted,' Sejer corrected him.'No?''The world is full of people who watch the happiness of others from the sidelines.'Brein rolled his eyes. 'Look around you,' he snorted. 'There are couples everywhere, walking down the street wrapped around each other; I can hardly bear to look at them.''Many walk alone,' Sejer countered. 'You're not the only one who is single. But perhaps you harbour an illusion that everyone else is granted everything their heart desires. It's not like that. What was your childhood like?''It was bad,' Brein said bitterly. 'And I don't mean to make excuses for myself, but it's only right that someone should know how bad it was. Perhaps you think my parents used to beat me, but they never raised a hand to me, it was far worse. There was coldness and hostility. My mum was always angry, it poured out of her in one constant, nagging stream. And she made so much noise, she slammed doors, she stomped around the house, her backside was the size of a rhinoceros. And she had a bizarre notion that you should always tell the truth, because she didn't want to be two-faced. So she always spoke her mind. It was the truth at all costs, in every situation. The truth in the shop, the truth across the fence to the neighbour, to door-to-door salesmen and to me. That I wasn't much to look at, that I wasn't all that bright. She scolded me and my dad. He would jump at the smallest chance to get out of the house. He would invent errands because he couldn't cope with her ranting. And they looked odd, the pair of them. Mum's build was coa.r.s.e, loud and masculine, while dad was delicate and effeminate. It was like something was always brewing in the house, if you get my drift. And sometimes she would lock me out. I mean if I came home late, if she had told me a time and I had missed it, then I had to sit on the doorstep until she deigned to let me in. She would look at me, feign surprise and say, what are you doing out here? One winter, I actually froze to the top step. Another time I gave up thinking she would let me in at all, so I went down to the cellar. I spent the night there on some old sacks.' He let his hands flop helplessly. 'That was tough for a small boy.''Is she still alive?' Sejer asked.'She got cancer,' he said. 'Her body was riddled with it, tumours everywhere. One of them was in the corner of her eye, it was pressing on her eye, it was disgusting. It looked like it might explode at any time. I didn't know where to look. You might say she was being punished for her neglect and betrayal, because she lay there for over a year, in great pain. I don't know how many hours I spent by her bedside, waiting. Listening to her breathing and hoping with all my heart that she would die. But she always pulled through and there would be more moaning and pain. I remember her last moments vividly. I was dozing on a chair. Suddenly she opened her eyes and screamed 'That's enough!' She twitched one last time and then she was gone.''How did you relieve your desire?' Sejer asked. 'I presume you found a way?'He folded his hands on the table. His fingers were long and thin with sharp knuckles.'I used pictures which I found in magazines, pictures of young boys. In PJs or swimming trunks. I made do with that. But once I was an adult I took a decision. I was adamant that I would have a proper life, like everyone else. I wanted to be like everyone else, it was crucial to me. I have some relatives up north, in Kirkenes. On a trip to see them I met a Russian lady. A lot of Russians cross the border for all sorts of reasons, but Irina had come to sell embroideries. Russian women really know how to sew.'He glanced quickly up at Sejer as though looking for signs of contempt, but all he found was gravity and patience.'We got talking,' he said, 'and I offered to buy her a cup of tea, and we talked for hours. Three months later we were married, and we had two daughters.''Are you still in touch with them?''No.''Have you tried to stay in touch?''Yes, of course, I have no one else. But I think Irina must have painted me in a bad light because they don't seem to be very interested. I wonder what she has told them. I haven't dared ask.''What are they called? How old are they?''Rita and Nadia, they're nineteen and twenty-two.''Do you miss them?'Brein sighed. 'You know how it is. They don't want to know someone like me. They're great girls, but it's best that I stay away.''Is that what you think? That you should hide away?''Yes,' he replied, 'that's what I think. And that's what you think, too. People would drive us into the sea, given the chance.'Sejer looked at him calmly. 'There are clear reasons why you have developed this tendency,' he said, 'and it hasn't been established yet whether you need to be ashamed of it. A few things have been beyond your control; that applies to all of us. However, it could be argued, as far as the law is concerned, that you have a duty to take some precautions. And you didn't take them, did you?' Sejer looked at him closely. 'Jonas August is dead.'Brein nodded. 'I just can't bear it,' he whispered.'What happened to your marriage?' Sejer asked.'It went down the drain, obviously,' he said. 'You know I had other needs. I felt I was playing a game, that I was false and miserable. And Irina felt neglected. So a distance was created between us and it grew over the years. I suppressed my real feelings until I was worn out. You don't know what it's like,' he groaned. 'It's exhausting.'Sejer nodded.'One morning she packed her suitcase and left,' he said, 'and I was all alone again. It was as if all ties were severed, I was cut adrift, I had nothing to hold on to. I was furious and angry and scared, I couldn't see straight. Other people don't have to worry,' he said. 'They're proud of how they feel, they think their feelings are good. That's what I think of mine. I would sit in my car and watch the kids from afar, while I daydreamed and fantasised.''You used to wait outside Solberg School, didn't you?''Yes. I liked the moment when the bell went and they poured out into the playground, like sweets out of a bag.''But you never touched them,' Sejer said. 'You only rolled down your window and talked to them?''I restrained myself,' Brein said. 'I'm forty-seven years old and I've always restrained myself. I just want you to know that.''You never invited them into your car?''I didn't dare,' he said. 'I couldn't trust myself completely. I would drive home and sit alone in my living room, alone with my longing. It's hard. It's like something inside is eating you up.''What was your job? Before you started receiving benefits?''I was a care a.s.sistant,' Brein said. 'I used to look after people. I really liked my job, I felt I mattered. But then the accident happened. I was knocked down on a crossing and injured. That was eight years ago. Since then I've spent a lot of time indoors. My only social life is the odd trip to the shops. And I watch telly all the time.''What was different about Jonas August?' Sejer asked. 'You finally made a choice; you invited him into your car. Tell me about it.'Brein gripped the table.'Yes,' he said. 'I'll tell you how it was. I'm fed up with all these rumours, that I'm a serial killer and worse, there are no limits to the stories in the papers. I drove around aimlessly. It wasn't the case that I had a plan, but I had a moment of weakness. I had pa.s.sed Solberg Hill, I had just reached the forest and it was very quiet. No people, no cars, just green fields of kale. There is little traffic on that stretch of the road. I pa.s.sed a few farms and houses, but apart from that I felt all alone. By that I mean all alone in the world. Anyone who is different is also lonely. For ever. I drove quite slowly, and I thought how lovely the scenery was. Perhaps you don't think people like me notice those kinds of things, that we only have one thing on our minds, but that's not the case.''Don't underestimate me,' Sejer said.Brein looked up with a sudden smile. His smile made his eyes s.h.i.+ne. It softened his features, and in a flash Sejer saw that there was another side to Brein. A side which would seem appealing to a child.'I spotted a small boy in red shorts,' he said. 'He was walking on the right hand side of the road and he was holding a stick. I was struck by the thought that the boy belonged to me, that providence had sent him and that I would finally be granted what I had longed for my whole life. I noticed how skinny he was, almost fragile, like spun sugar. We were at the bottom of the hill. When he heard the car, he stopped and stepped on to the verge while staring at me with his huge blue eyes. You know how kids stare at you, they ignore all boundaries. Do you know that feeling?''I do,' Sejer said.' "You got far to go?" I asked him. He shook his head. "I live just up there," he said, "at the top of the hill, in the white house with the veranda." "Would you do me a favour?" I asked him, and yes, he would be happy to. I told him that the engine was playing up, that I had to look under the bonnet. Please would he get in and press the accelerator? He nodded enthusiastically. He threw the stick aside and got into the driver's seat. He struggled to reach the accelerator, but he was so proud of the job he had been entrusted with, and when he had revved the engine for a while and I had checked that everything was working all right, I offered to drive him home. Saves you having to walk up that hill, I tempted him. He thought about it for a while, as if he was weighing up the pros and cons. I could see how his mother's warnings were going through his head, but I flashed him my most brilliant smile and it made him drop his guard. He s.h.i.+fted over to the pa.s.senger side. And I was where I had always wanted to be: alone with a small boy. And it was overwhelming.' Brein paused. His gaze had reached the camera in the ceiling and his eyes filled with indignation.'I asked him what his name was. Jonas August Lwe. A handsome name for a handsome boy, I said. That made him laugh a little, he was proud of his name, that was clear to see. I made him feel at ease and you may not believe me, but that's what I wanted to do.''I believe you,' Sejer said.'Why don't we go for a ride? I suggested. Let's see what this old banger is good for. I pretended to be in a good mood. He agreed. He had no other plans and I could feel that he liked me, kids do, I'm good at talking to them, I make them feel they matter. I never experienced that feeling myself when I was a boy. Shortly afterwards we pa.s.sed his house and he pointed out of the window. That's our house, he said, that's where I live with my mum. I raced brazenly past the house. It was him and me, and nothing could stop me now. You should have seen him when we reached Granas, he was trailing me like a puppy.'Brein looked up. He had talked himself warm and the nervous twitches had subsided.'He spotted the wheelchair the moment we entered the living room. Yes, it used to be Mum's, you've probably guessed that by now, I haven't got round to returning it. He asked if he could have a go and I said yes. So he rolled up and down the living room while I watched him from the sofa. He had a great time with that chair. You can imagine how kids are fascinated by such things. I told him I could teach him to balance on two wheels, if he wanted me to. I was getting really excited, I don't mind admitting that, I had never been so close to a boy, but I was also getting desperate. I could tell where this was going and I was scared the people in the farmhouse might be able to see us, you know, the farmer who is my landlord, or his wife. Or his daughters, he's got four of them, or even the Poles in the barn. So I hardly dared breathe.'Brein brushed his hair away from his forehead. There is something theatrical about the movement. He clearly wants to come across as a tortured soul and I suppose he is, Sejer thought, anyone who ends up in this room is a tortured soul, they're here because someone wronged them.'I had some c.o.ke in the fridge,' Brein said, 'and he wanted some of it. We sat next to each other on the sofa and chatted. He answered all my questions with a voice as clear as a bell, he was so modest, he was so obedient. His thighs were so thin and I could see his round knees, I remember thinking that they would fit my hand exactly. So I raised my hand and placed it carefully on his knee. And you may not appreciate this, but it was a very special moment for me.''How did he react?' Sejer asked.'He sat upright like a burning candle. He looked down at my hand and I saw no alarm or anxiety, merely wonder. His skin was golden, covered by downy hairs. As I sat there, I was overcome by dread, that he would tear himself loose and run to the door. There was nothing in the world I dreaded more than losing what I had finally found. And though I didn't want to hurt him, I lost control. And my conscience did trouble me a little, but I brushed it aside. I thought it would all be over in a minute, after which I would take care of him and drive him home, you know, look after him in every possible way.'I pushed him down on the sofa and pulled off his shorts. At that moment I heard something clatter on to the floor, but I couldn't work out what it was. And then I had my way with him. I just took what I wanted. When I came round, and it was all over, something happened.''What happened, Brein?'Brein rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and when he looked up, they were red and raw.'He started wheezing,' he whispered. 'While I sat there looking at him, he turned blue.''And what did you do?''Nothing. I panicked.''Go on, Brein,' Sejer said.'He started scrambling around the sofa,' Brein said, 'as though he was looking for something.''Jonas August was struggling to breathe,' Sejer said, 'and you sat there watching him and you did nothing. How long before he lost consciousness?''Not long. I could hear something was wrong. And then he flung himself off the sofa and started fumbling around the floor, and I was upset because I didn't understand what was going on. Then he collapsed and lay still. I hid in a corner. I had no idea what to do.''What was he looking for, Brein? What was it that had fallen out of the pocket of his shorts?''An inhaler,' he whispered. 'I found it under the sofa.''Jonas August had asthma.''I know that now. But,' he put on a distraught face, 'it's too late.'Sejer started walking around the room, all the time keeping his gaze pinned on Brein.'Jonas August died in your presence,' he said. 'The one thing that could have saved him was lying under your sofa?''Yes.''You just sat there watching him struggling to breathe?''Yes.''You never once thought of calling someone or running out of the house to get help? This you have to explain to me.''I can't explain it. I felt cold all over. What will I be charged with?' he asked. 'Can you tell me that? It won't be murder, will it? Can you give me an idea of what my sentence will be?''Did it never occur to you that you had to save him?''You can't blame me for that.' Brein said. 'I had a panic attack.'Sejer suddenly felt tired. He sat down in his chair again and closed his eyes.'The charges aren't ready yet,' he said. 'You'll be told later.'Brein gave him an expectant look. 'I was promised some food.''And you shall have some,' Sejer said. 'But don't ask me for sympathy,' he added. 'Talk to your defence lawyer. He's on his way.'Now it was Brein's turn to get up from his chair. He positioned himself by the wall and his face was defiant.'Perhaps you're the one who needs sympathy,' he said.Sejer frowned.'You're only halfway there and you know it. I never laid a finger on Edwin Asalid.'

CHAPTER 43

Brein was transformed as if by a stroke of magic.Gone was the bitterness, and the excuses, gone was the sullen look. He folded his arms and he straightened his back. He looked Sejer directly in the eye.'I never laid a finger on Edwin Asalid. I obviously know who he was; we can agree that he stood out, can't we? I used to see him walking along the road, poor lad, waddling along with all his excess weight, but we can stay here all night or till next spring for that matter, I'm not going to change my story. You've got to look elsewhere. He clearly got into someone's car, but it wasn't mine.'

'Brein is adamant,' Sejer said. 'And I'm inclined to believe him.''There must be two of them,' Skarre said. 'It is possible.''Or,' Sejer said, 'Brein is a first-rate actor. He confesses to one killing because he thinks it might be cla.s.sed as an accident, hoping meanwhile that Edwin will never be found. And that consequently we'll never have a case against him.''Let's hope the prosecutor can find an expert witness who can prove that Brein's a.s.sault led directly to Jonas August's asthma attack and death,' Skarre said. 'Do you realise that the worst case scenario means he's convicted of manslaughter. He'll only get six years.''Yes,' Sejer said, 'but I don't concern myself with sentencing. And neither should you.''How many rounds are you going to go with him?''I don't know. I'm uncomfortable sitting in there with him. It feels like I'm wasting precious time and I can't afford to do that.'He went over to the window and stared down at the traffic in the street. 'It's snowing,' he said despondently.'A lot?' Skarre looked towards the inspector.'Very heavily. I'm worried.''About what.''Time pa.s.sing. We're bound to find Edwin sooner or later. But how much will be left of his body when we do?''I see your point,' Skarre said. 'We were handed Brein on a plate. We won't be that lucky a second time.'

CHAPTER 44

Sejer went to see Tulla Asalid and they talked for hours.'Obesity is a big problem,' she said. 'Literally. The doctors frightened the life out of me. One of them once told me that fat people move so little that they don't develop muscles, and if they don't have any muscles, the blood can't reach the brain as it's supposed to. After that I lay awake all night. I think that might be what's happened. Perhaps his heart stopped and he's lying in a ditch somewhere.'I never thought Edwin would become so big. He weighed five kilos when he was born and I was proud as a peac.o.c.k because I thought it meant he was fit and healthy. But later he started gaining weight at a pace which terrified me. When he wants something, he looks at me with a power no mother can resist. It's a vicious circle, more food, more excess weight and more despair, which leads to him eating more, so he has some comfort at least. I think Edwin feels permanently ashamed of himself because he's so fat, and there is nothing I can do. He constantly helps himself to everything, he's unstoppable. It's all my fault. This would never have happened if Edwin had been slim and strong. I've cared for him for ten years and I'm responsible. I'm not strong. I can't bear to say no. When he looks at me with his brown eyes, I just melt.'At night, in my dreams, I can hear him calling, but I can't answer him, I've lost my voice. He's trying to find his way home, he's stumbling in the silent darkness and I can't move, I can't see. When I wake up I'm overwhelmed by my powerlessness. Sometimes I want to run out into the forest and howl, pull up trees and bushes by the root and turn over rocks. He's got to be out there somewhere; after all, they found Jonas August in the forest. Ingemar once said that Edwin looks like a jam doughnut, large, pale and spongy. He wasn't being unkind, he was just joking and that's why I love him, and I can't expect him to behave like a father to Edwin, because he's not his father. They get on all right, I think, though I often wish that Ingemar would show a bit more interest. But I'm glad he's here now to support me, I wouldn't be able to cope with this on my own. Sometimes I console myself with the memories. All our trips to my cottage, Pris, which Edwin and I used to take. We would go for walks in the forest together and we would fantasise about outrageous meals, dinners, puddings and cakes and we would laugh so hard we would end up crying. I don't want to go there any more, I'm thinking about selling the place. Ingemar has promised to help me. He says I ought to invest the money, that he can take care of it for me and I'm grateful for that. I don't know anything about money and investments, or what will give a good return, so it's great that he'll deal with that.'Something happened recently, which really upset me. I had a telephone call. And I didn't react with kindness, but with rage. It was Elfrid Lwe. She wanted to meet me. I couldn't help it, I lost my temper. She a.s.sumes that Edwin is dead, too, and that we have something to talk about, that we have things in common. I screamed at her, told her to stay away, and I slammed down the receiver. Afterwards I stood shaking like a leaf. I felt so upset. How could I have treated her like that? One day I'll have to contact her and apologise. But I do think she had some nerve, no one really knows what has happened to Edwin. Kids have gone missing before and they turn up and they are fine. I mustn't give up hope.'Some children came to see me, it's a while back, now. Sindre was there, and Sverre and Isak and some of the girls from Edwin's cla.s.s, I don't remember their names. They had made a kind of sc.r.a.pbook with pictures and messages, the sheets were holepunched and held together with red ribbon. 'We miss you Edwin, please come back,' things like that. Pictures of flowers and birds and animals, as children do. Alex Meyer had obviously told them to make this to show sympathy. I wasn't all that moved because I'm not sure how nice they actually were to him, normally.'I'm still waiting for him, I wait every hour of the day, I wait as I lie in my bed, I wait as I cook, inside my head I hear my own voice crying out for Edwin. I'm convinced he'll be coming down the road soon with his rolling walk. I keep looking out of the window. I listen out for steps, or the door slamming. Whenever I hear a car pull up, my heart skips a beat. It might be the police or the vicar. I don't want the vicar to come round. I don't know what I'll do if he turns up. I used to go out a lot, now I mainly stay in. I can't bear to meet people. They look at me with compa.s.sion, but they avoid me because they don't know what to say. Imagine if they had dared to approach me! Hug me and comfort me. How are you? Is it bad? Is there anything I can do? But people are scared of feelings, that I might burst into tears, that they'll stand there not knowing what to do. I would rather have a grave than this uncertainty. The way things are now, there is nothing I can do for him. The feeling of powerlessness is overwhelming. It's all grief and despair and guilt, it's all emptiness and pain. What kind of life is this? I have Ingemar, of course, but he can't bring Edwin back to me. Still, he's the only one who can make me forget for a few brief seconds, the only one who can make me laugh. Afterwards I'm shocked that I could. It's as if I'm letting Edwin down in the worst way possible by being happy.'

CHAPTER 45

Sejer was often found hunched over the file, reading.On the wall to the right of his desk hung a photo of Edwin as a constant reminder and sometimes Sejer would look up and ask him, 'What did you do, what happened to you?' He visited Alex Meyer. Meyer was happy to admit that Edwin had been a frequent visitor, sometimes with Sindre, or Sverre and Isak. Meyer had a steady gaze, as befits a man who has both confidence and a clear conscience. He talked about his cla.s.s and everything they were going through. The children were having trouble sleeping. Parents had reported cases of bedwetting.'We'll never know the full extent of this,' Meyer said. 'The children are really struggling to cope.'Sejer changed his approach and studied Ingemar Brenner's fraud convictions. Brenner was the only person in Edwin's circle with a criminal record. The man had a dubious talent as a con artist, but it was a big leap from financial crime to killing a child. Even if Edwin had been in his way. He asked Brenner to come to his office and he arrived at the agreed time. Sejer noticed his cream s.h.i.+rt and his s.h.i.+ny wine-coloured tie. Brenner was a man who went around relis.h.i.+ng his own excellence. He was, in contrast to Brein, undeniably a good-looking man and he knew it. He was also brutally honest when it came to Edwin.'I don't care much for kids,' he said. 'I don't mind telling you. They're unpredictable and I can't stand that.''You like being in control?' Sejer asked.'I've never enjoyed being a spectator.''And whenever Edwin was in the room, that's exactly what you became?'Brenner gave him a self-satisfied smile.'I lecture,' he said. 'I'm used to an audience. I talk and people listen, you could hear a pin drop. And there's Tulla, of course, I've got her eating out of my hand.''Wouldn't you agree,' Sejer said, 'that your hands have got you into trouble before?'Brenner stopped smiling.'That's none of your business.''Perhaps not,' Sejer said, 'but we notice things and we draw conclusions.''You need to separate what has happened to Edwin from what my, formerly, generous girlfriends decided to give me,' he said. 'A woman scorned will send you to the gallows, given half a chance.''The court didn't buy your version of events,' Sejer said, 'and neither do I. Tell me, what's your opinion of Edwin? What do you think happened to him?'Brenner grew serious.'It's obvious, isn't it?' he said. 'And excuse me for being so blunt. Of course, I haven't said this to Tulla, but like you, I think the following happened. Someone dragged Edwin into a car and drove him to the forest, where he was a.s.saulted and later strangled. Or he had his head bashed in with a rock, what do I know? Afterwards he was dumped in a lake or maybe buried. It's a waste of time to speculate if he's still alive, I've no time for false hopes.''You don't like children, but are you fond of Edwin?''Let me put it this way, I'm used to him being there,' Brenner said. 'I'm used to him constantly eating, constantly begging. I'm used to the fact that he doesn't like me, that he thinks he has a monopoly on Tulla and that's wrong, of course. And it's their relations.h.i.+p that has turned him into what he is.''And what is he?''Well,' Brenner hesitated, 'a jam doughnut that keeps growing bigger and bigger.''Have you thought about moving in with Tulla?''I have.''Why haven't you done so?''I didn't want to become involved with Edwin's problems.''So you think of him as a problem?'Brenner's hand checked and adjusted the knot in his tie.'He's ten years old and he weighs nearly ninety kilos,' he said. 'Is there any other way of looking at it?'

A merciless winter hit the south-eastern parts of the country. The weather was relatively mild, but there were huge amounts of snow, wet and heavy snow that caused chaos on the roads, and people clearing their drives did their backs in. It snowed for weeks. When it finally stopped and the sky turned blue, the frost came and stayed for a month. People looked pessimistically at the gigantic snowdrifts. They will never melt, they thought, but then came April and suddenly it turned warm. People poured out of their houses lacking in everything: light, heat and fresh air. Tender dreams were formed. Perhaps life's worth living after all, they thought.On one of these mild days Sejer drove up to visit Tulla Asalid. He parked in her drive and noticed that the kitchen window was open, and as he got out of his car he heard a trickling laughter. He stopped to listen, confused, but then all he could hear was the wind playing with the treetops. How could she laugh like that? She had lost her most precious possession. Or was Ingemar her most precious possession; was she crazy, like her parents had said? He walked up to the house and rang the bell. It took a while before she opened. She started by apologising. She had been on the telephone.Sejer explained why he had come.'It's none of my business who you see,' he said cautiously, 'but when it comes to Brenner, then don't trust him with your money.'She gave him a perplexed look. 'Why not?''Have you already done so?' he asked.'No, of course not. Why would you say something like that?''Please don't ask me to go into detail,' he said. 'I don't like to expose people. I've come to give you some advice and I hope you'll take it.'At this she looked haunted. She invited him in and they talked for half an hour. In the car on his way back he thought once more of her trickling laughter which he had heard through the window. Dear Lord, he thought, I can't blame her for having one moment of happiness. But still he could not shake it off, her laughter was like a sting and it troubled him.

Wilfred Arent Brein watched life go by from the window of his prison cell. He had settled in well. True, he fawned like a dog to the other prisoners, he kept his head down and he spoke in a low, mumbling voice. He was scared of their condemnation and waited on them like a servant. He lent them money and gave them cigarettes. This was how he managed to be left in peace and that was what he wanted. The day was divided into fixed routines. He liked the workshop and he liked the food. He liked helping out in the kitchen, all the smells and the heat from the cooker, the huge, steaming, bubbling pots.He slept fairly well at night, curled up on his bunk in a foetal position. He was serving ten years. On completing his sentence he would be released back into the community, back to his lonely existence on benefits, the same man with the same pa.s.sion for young boys. He rarely thought about the day he would be released; life on the outside did not appeal to him. No one would welcome him, he would be left to his own devices, his own pain and his own urges. All things considered, prison life was not as bad as he had imagined. Every now and then a prison officer would stop by for a chat. Then he would come alive and talk himself warm about this and that, about his father whom he should have supported, the last book he had read, which had a sad ending. Society had already forgotten about him. New murders had been committed, new crimes that had been carefully planned, simple economic crimes for personal gain, which were obviously far worse that his own deed, which he had not wanted to commit anyway. He was driven by his pa.s.sions. He was adamant when it came to this. It was the notion that saved him, which meant that he could sleep at night. He slept a dreamless sleep.

However, spring had finally arrived now, lush and teeming with life. Teenagers bloomed like the crocuses in the flowerbeds, they unfolded and started flirting with each other, they hung around on street corners, they lay on the gra.s.s in parks. The snow on the fields of f.a.gre Vest Farm finally melted, and the mound with its few bushes became visible; it lay like a small island in the fields and pretty rowan trees grew on it. Early one April evening a group of young people walked down towards Loch Bonna. One of them was Signe Lund, who worked behind the till at Kiwi. She had swapped the green uniform for a red miniskirt; her round knees were milky-white after the long winter. There was her cousin, Mai-Britt, small and chubby, with a ma.s.s of ginger hair, puffing away at a Benson & Hedges. Ellemann and Rolf were at the front, determining their direction, and Signe sensed what it was all leading up to.Inside the mound in the field was an earth cellar, and last summer she had lost her virginity there. She was consumed by trepidation twinned with fear of what she wanted and yet at the same time did not want, but life was like that, and boys always got what they wanted anyway and she did not want to come across as uptight. Neither did Mai-Britt. They meandered across the fields and punched each other playfully. They were so full of life and they were up for anything. Walking in the wet soil was hard work and they were worried that they might be spotted by the farmer from f.a.gre Vest who would set his Alsatian on them. After all, they were trespa.s.sing.They sat down on a large stone. The boys circled the girls like sheepdogs herding sheep, but something distracted them and interfered with their chat. A smell. A dense, rotten vapour drifted through the air. The older of the boys, Ellemann, got up to investigate.'It's coming from the earth cellar,' he said.Excited and nervous he started looking for the trap door. He stamped the ground methodically with his heavy boots. Soon they heard the sound of heels against wood. They cleared away some gra.s.s and leaves, and none of them said a word because the smell was unnerving and it frightened them.The trap door was bolted.Its rusty iron hinges groaned and whined as they opened it.

CHAPTER 46

Edwin Asalid lay on an old sprung mattress.He lay on his stomach with his arms outstretched and he looked like a beached whale. There was a fair amount of rubbish inside