The shock and fear have given way to numbness and an almost overpowering fatigue. I decide to look for coffee. I need to think, and I don’t feel ready to lie down to sleep in this place, among Leah’s possessions. The very thought of it makes my skin prickle into goosebumps on my arm.

Once I have fully regained my warmth, I make my way over to the kitchen nook, supporting myself on bookshelves, backs of chairs and the side of the little Chinese cabinet as I go. There is instant coffee and a kettle, but I don’t understand how to make it work without electricity. I follow the cord from the little countertop refrigerator down to the floor, where it disappears into the large, humming generator, almost as big as the appliance itself. I realize there are plug holes around its sides and connect the kettle. In a cupboard I remember seeing several bottles of Imsdal bottled mineral water, and pour half of one into the kettle.

I drink my coffee black by the side of the hearth, gazing into the flames. It is utterly delicious, and for a long moment I feel a strange calm, considering the circumstances. It could be even worse, I suppose. I made it back to the cabin. I have firewood and coffee. I won’t die from these injuries. All I have to do is get through the night. But what if whoever killed Leah comes back for me? Or did Leah kill Leah? My mind is spinning. She left a suicide note saying she’d drown in the lake, and yet she ended up shot on a hillside. I take several deep breaths. Control yourself, Kristina, I say to myself. I am safer here than anywhere else in this moment, no one knows I am here. All you have to do is get through this night.

I let my eyes travel again across the numerous books that dominate the room. Several copies of Leah’s own novel are displayed on a shelf, I hadn’t noticed them before, in Norwegian, Swedish, English, French, Portuguese and Italian. I could choose any one of them and make my way to the windowless, cozy sleeping alcove tucked away in the corner of the room, reading until I am able to fall asleep. And tomorrow will bring light, hope and rescue – I have to believe that.

And yet, inside, I know what I crave. I try to resist, because I decided I couldn’t bear to read another word she wrote, and don’t want to know of any more ways Leah might have infiltrated my life. None of it matters now – she’s dead in the most tragic of circumstances and her misguided actions will have no further impact on my life.