She put her hand down into the back pocket of her black jeans and took out a note.

‘Arnulf Selhus,’ she read out. ‘Director of Finance at the Norwegian Cross-Country Skiing Federation. Here are all the details. Address, phone number, you name it. The guy is probably good at finance, but he’s hopeless at covering electronic tracks.’

Lars Winther stared open-mouthed. He gawked at her for so long that she waved the note in front of his eyes.

‘Don’t you want it?’

Snatching it, he hugged her, lifted the young woman up in the air and planted a big, loud kiss on her cheek.

‘Thanks!’ he said loudly, laughing.

‘Hash tag MeToo,’ she answered, beaming from ear to ear.

THE STORY

Selma had turned off from Trondheimsveien and driven into the square in front of the old Aker hospital. She stopped her car at the deserted taxi stand and let the engine idle. Just as she was about to phone Jan Morell, he called her.

‘Jan,’ she said.

‘Selma,’ he replied.

‘You have to tell me something,’ she said. ‘It’s important.’

‘Yes. I’d nearly forgotten. But not quite. It was only one incident among so many other cock and bull stories from that time. And I’d no idea that it might be him. I’ve met him countless times, Hege uses him you see, but I hadn’t a clue that he was the same person as the seven-year-old from that time.’

‘What … what on earth are you talking about?’

‘What we did. Klaus, Arnulf and I. You asked if we’d done anything … illegal.’

‘No. I asked if you’d done anything serious towards anyone. Something that could make someone want to … punish you all.’

‘Yes. I was thinking about illegal acts. There were quite a few of those. We pinched a few things here and there, especially me. Vandalized property. Never anything major, but …’

‘Jan,’ she broke in. ‘What did you do?’

There was silence at the other end. Several times she could hear him take a deep breath, and then not quite know where to begin.

At last the words came tumbling out.

Selma Falck listened to Jan’s story for eight whole minutes without interrupting. She put her phone down when he was finished, put the car in gear and then drove as fast as she could to the brown Moelven house in Stølsveien.

THE EMAIL

The front door was slightly ajar. The dogs were not at home. Neither were Benedicte nor little Storm Teodor.

It was of course illegal to enter another person’s property even if the doors were lying open. It was not acceptable to walk into other people’s homes without ringing the doorbell or announcing your arrival in some other way. It certainly wasn’t a good idea to creep about in a strange house in order to look around, but Selma Falck had done all of these things.

And she was now pleased she had thrown caution to the winds, as Arnulf Selhus’s family was spared an extremely traumatizing discovery.