Selma would never be able to recount what happened next in the huge garden on the Morell property that December evening, with rain in the air and a north wind blowing.

The elk was about to step into the line of fire between Knut Nilssen and Jan. It kept moving. And took yet another step.

‘I killed your brother,’ Jan Morell shrieked, more desperately now.

A shot rang out.

A sharp, menacing report from a Browning .308 rent the air as the elk heifer reached the carrots. The bullet stopped exactly halfway towards its intended target. The elk was hit in the head and fell down dead. The man who fired the shot lowered his rifle. He remained standing in surprise and confusion, still holding the gun, when a woman tackled him, partly from behind, partly from the side, in stockinged feet and with a force he’d never thought possible for a female. The shooter fell. He dropped the rifle, tried to struggle to his feet, but a man came running and launched himself at him as well, and Knut Vetle Nilssen realized he would not be able to escape.

‘Pick up the gun,’ Lars Winther roared. He had a wrestler’s hold on the shooter’s neck.

Selma scrambled to her feet. She was shaking. She threw her arms around her body and knew that if it hadn’t been for a head-on collision on a handball court in 1986, she would have burst into floods of tears on the spot.

The elk lay lifeless under the apple tree.

Jan Morell picked up the rifle. Emptied the chamber and removed the bolt with accustomed movements. He shoved the ammunition into his pocket and placed the rifle and bolt down on the ground. Then he tore off his cardigan and wrapped it around Selma.

‘I think I’ve won,’ she said, her teeth chattering loudly.

‘What do you mean?’ Jan Morell asked.

‘Our bet,’ Selma said, only just managing to force a smile.

THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT

Elise Grønn had just closed the door behind her parents when the doorbell rang again. She looked discouraged as she turned back into the hallway – more than anything she wanted to be left completely alone. It had been difficult to convince her parents, which she could understand to some extent, but now they really would have to cut this out.

A strange woman stood on the doorstep.

She was young, dressed in a police uniform, and her handshake was firm when she introduced herself and asked to come in for a minute. She meant it quite literally, and stood right inside the door.

‘We found it in your car,’ she said softly as she handed Elise a small package.

A Christmas present. The paper was red, with tiny silhouettes of golden angels. The ribbon was also golden, and tied a bit too loose. A card almost as big as the package was attached to the bow.

‘What’s this?’ Elise whispered.