The Water's Edge (17 page)

'Who is Alex?'

'He's our teacher, at Solberg School. We're in Year Five and we have him for nearly all our subjects.'

Sverre brushed his fringe away from his face; his hair was coarse and the colour of copper.

'Do you like him?'

They glanced at each other.

'We like him,' Isak said, 'but he's weird.'

Sejer pondered their answer. 'Weird how?'

'He lives with another man,' Isak said. 'He's gay, you see. They both are. Alex and Johannes share the same house. And the same bed.'

They stared into the muddy water. The topic of conversation was making them embarrassed.

'How was Edwin yesterday?' Skarre asked. 'Was he like he normally is?'

'Oh, yes,' Isak said.

'How long was he here on the jetty?'

'I don't know,' replied Sverre. 'We weren't watching the time.'

'There's something important that we really need to be sure about,' Sejer said, 'and that's the car. Was it someone you knew?'

They both shook their heads.

'Did the car stop down by the beach?'

'No,' Sverre said, 'Edwin started walking. They met each other near that substation up there.'

He pointed.

'Could it have been the same white car seen outside the school? Think carefully.'

'Might have been.'

'And you can't tell me what make it was?' Sejer asked.

'No, it was just an ordinary car.'

'Was there more than one man in the car?'

'No.'

Sejer looked out over the loch again. To his left, he saw the headland, a narrow tongue in the water.

'You told me that Edwin can't swim?'

Isak nodded energetically.

'He's let off,' he said, 'because he doesn't want to put on swimming trunks. Edwin doesn't do PE either. He can't manage to skip or jump over the vaulting horse. It's really hard for him to get up again if he falls over.'

'Does he get bullied a lot?'

They both shook their heads.

'No, Alex gets mad. He won't let us.'

They searched the jetty and the headland, but found no Edwin in Loch Bonna. Large, fat gulls screeched ominously at the search parties when they tipped out the rubbish bins in the area. The rubbish was scrutinised. Ditches, outbuildings and sheds were checked.

'What do we do now?' Skarre asked.

'We contact the council and get a list of all the residents in Huseby,' Sejer said. 'We get a list of everyone who owns a white car. Then we visit them and we interview them.'

'There are three thousand people living here,' Skarre said.

'I know.'

'Three thousand,' Skarre repeated as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and started punching in the number. 'If we assume that each house has three inhabitants and that every household has one car, and many have two, we're talking about roughly one thousand cars, perhaps twelve, thirteen hundred.'

He continued punching.

'And if we assume, and I'm only guessing here, that every tenth car is white and I think that's a good guess, then we're looking at maybe one hundred and twenty people in Huseby who own a white car.'

'Then we've got our work cut out for us,' Sejer said. 'Everyone will need to be processed, I want them all entered on to a database. Ask them about their job and civilian status, how long they've lived in Huseby and check them against our records. And if it's at all possible, I want the officers to check if anyone walks with a limp.'

That night Sejer lay awake staring at the ceiling. He was scared of making a mistake, of overlooking or forgetting something. He was scared of relaxing or, for that matter, of falling asleep, because he would achieve nothing while he slept and he could not bear that. He lay awake imagining the man he was hunting. I'm coming after you, he thought, and I'm persistent. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will find you and hold you accountable, because you have not only violated Edwin and Jonas August, you have violated our entire society. This you must understand: there is not a single soul in the whole world who will forgive you.

CHAPTER 23

Kristine Ris pulled her nightdress over her head, the thin fabric caressing her back. She wanted Reinhardt to touch her like this, but he never took the time, and so it remained something she could only dream of. A finger tracing her spine from her neck to the small of her back and making her shiver. For a while she stood naked on the bathroom floor. It was seven in the morning, and Reinhardt was already dressed. She adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the shower, she lifted her head against the warm stream as she played a game. She imagined she was covered by a layer of worries and now they were being washed away like dirt before disappearing down the drain. She could hear Reinhardt pottering about, she heard the radio in the living room. Security, she thought, that's why I stay, that's why I put up with it. Dear God, I'm like a child. What I have now isn't what I dreamed of, but at least I know what each day will bring, I can see what the rest of my life will be like. She jumped when the door to the bathroom was opened. Reinhardt pushed the shower curtain to one side.

'What's happened?' she said quickly.

Clumsily she covered herself up with the bottom half of the shower curtain. Reinhardt gave her an outraged look.

'He's taken another boy.'

'What? Who's taken another boy?'

'Well, we don't know yet, but my money's on that man from Linde Forest,' he said. 'The missing boy is from Huseby. There's total panic now.'

'No,' she said, baffled. She shook her head in disbelief. Her hair was wet and drops of water trickled into her eyes.

'Is that what they were saying on the radio?'

'Yes, I've just heard it. But they didn't give away many details, you know, they never do at this stage. But it's a ten-year-old boy and he goes to the same school as Jonas August.'

Kristine stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She watched him with wide eyes.

'But where did they find him? Was he dressed?'

'No,' Reinhardt said, 'they haven't found him yet, they're still looking.'

'What do you mean they haven't found him?'

She took a smaller towel and wrapped it around her hair like a turban.

'Then how do we know what's happened to him?' she objected.

'Oh, they'll find him,' Reinhardt said, 'but by then it will be too late. Kristine! We're the only witnesses, the only ones to have seen him up close.'

Kristine got dressed. She was troubled by what Reinhardt had told her, by scenarios she did not want to entertain, by thoughts she did not want to think. They went down to the kitchen to have breakfast. Reinhardt made coffee.

'When I'm out and about I'll keep my eyes open. Just in case he might show up.'

Kristine took her usual place at the table. 'But what if you see someone, you tell the police and it turns out it's not him,' she objected. 'Imagine how awful that would be.'

'I really can't worry about that. If you think about it,' he added, 'not many people in this world can stop him from taking a third boy. But you and I can, we're in a unique position.'

It gives him a buzz, she thought, that it might be so.

She buttered a slice of bread.

'You might be right,' she said, 'but there's not much we can do in our unique position. Unless he shows up somewhere.'

'And he will, sooner or later. The question is: how many kids will he kill before that?'

'What's his name?' Kristine asked. 'The missing boy?'

'Something unusual,' Reinhardt said. 'Edwin. What a hopeless name for a small boy.'

She shrugged. 'He's probably named after someone. His grandfather, perhaps.'

'It doesn't suit him,' Reinhardt stated. 'Edwin is an adult's name. The name of someone who's fifty or sixty.'

'But he's going to grow up,' Kristine said. 'He's only a boy for the first ten years.'

She stopped talking. All he would get now was those ten years. She looked at Reinhardt. He seemed unperturbed. She had no idea what that signified.

'There's something about you men,' she said.

'Is there now?' He looked down at her. 'Why don't you tell me what that is?'

'You're so simple.'

'Are we really?'

'If someone gives you a ball, you'll chase it for hours.'

'Ha ha,' Reinhardt laughed, he was finding all this highly amusing.

'You never stop playing. Whereas we girls, we grow up when we turn twelve, because we know we'll become mothers one day. One child can't take care of another, we have to be responsible.'

Reinhardt's smile stiffened and became acidic.

'Besides, our brains are very different,' she continued. 'I saw something about it on TV once. They had created this image, which highlighted the differences. Active areas of the brain were coloured red.'

'Good heavens,' Reinhardt chuckled.

'And inactive areas were coloured yellow.'

She swallowed another sip of her coffee. 'And do you know something?'

Her eyes met his across the table.

'The male brain showed just a small red spot,' she said. 'The active parts were limited to a small area. Whereas the female brain was almost entirely red. Because we're capable of thinking about many different things simultaneously,' she said triumphantly.

'While we focus on one thing,' Reinhardt said. 'And that's why we achieve more than you do. Whereas you busy yourselves with trifles and that's why everything you do is mediocre and halfhearted.'

The discussion was starting to make her dizzy.

'You're always the ones to stop when there's been a road accident,' she said, 'or a fire. Or any other disaster, for that matter.'

'So what?' he replied. 'We like the adrenalin, Kristine: that doesn't make us inferior human beings.'

'That's not what I said,' she defended herself.

'I know you,' he said, 'and I know what you're thinking. But I don't mind admitting it. I'm interested in the missing boy from Huseby.'

She risked touching a sore point. 'Only a man who has no children of his own would say that,' she said.

He nodded. 'A good reason for not having any, wouldn't you agree? If you have a kid and then lose it, the rest of your life's ruined.'

'We can't think like that,' she protested.

He washed down his bread with milk.