“To protect myself against the evils of the world.”
“Your drawers are locked.”
“But you’ve got a copy of the key.”
“What? What makes you think that?”
“I’ve noticed you moving things about in there. And on one occasion you used it to store a lump of hash that Narcotics had seized, according to the bag it was in. So it wouldn’t be found inyourdrawers if they started looking for it.”
Truls didn’t answer.
“Well?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Truls grunted. “On the dot. I’m not going to stand there freezing.”
—
Kaja Solness was standing with her arms folded, staring out of the living-room window. She was freezing. She was always cold. In Kabul, where the temperature veered from minus five to well over thirty, her nocturnal shivers were just as likely to strike in July as they were in December, and there’d been little she could do but wait for morning, when the desert sun would warm her up again. Her brother had been the same, and once she had asked him if he thought they were born cold-blooded, that they were incapable of regulating their own body temperature and were reliant on external heat to stop them seizing up and freezing to death like reptiles. For a long time she had thought that was true. That she wasn’t in control. That she was helplessly dependent on her surroundings. Dependent on others.
She stared out into the darkness. Let her gaze slip along the garden fence.
Was he standing out there somewhere?
It was impossible to know. The blackness was impenetrable, and a man like him knew perfectly well how to keep himself hidden.
She was shivering, but she wasn’t afraid. Because now she knew she didn’t need other people. She could shape her own life.
She thought about the sound of the other woman’s voice.
No, he’s at Alexandra’s.
Her own life. And other people’s.
17
Dagny Jensen stopped abruptly. She had gone for her usual Sunday walk along the banks of the Akerselva. Feeding the ducks. Smiling at families with small children and dogs. Looking for the first snowdrops. Anything to stop herself thinking. Because she had been thinking all night, and all she wanted to do now was forget.
But he wouldn’t let her. She stared at the figure standing outside the door to her building. He was stamping his feet on the ground, as if he was trying to keep warm. As if he had been waiting a long time. She was about to turn and walk away when she realised it wasn’t him. This man was taller than Finne.
Dagny walked closer.
He didn’t have long hair either, but scruffy, fair hair. She walked a bit closer.
“Dagny Jensen?” the man said.
“Yes?”
“Harry Hole. Oslo Police.”
The words sounded like he was grinding them out.
“What’s this about?”
“You wanted to report a rape yesterday.”
“I changed my mind.”
“So I understand. You’re frightened.”
