‘I went to the sheltered-housing centre on Lindargata, where Ísafold seems to have worked, and they said she had left.’

‘Hmm,’ Daníel said, without opening his mouth. 98

‘I was wondering if you could go there and find out the real reason Ísafold doesn’t work there any more,’ she said. ‘The woman who runs it won’t tell me, but I reckon she would be more co-operative if you wave a warrant card in her face. I’m sure there’s something weird going on there.’

Daníel smiled again. This time it was an amiable smile, with real warmth, not the intense smile that went with a teasing tone of voice.

‘I’ll do that,’ he said, his tone gentle. ‘If you’ll have dinner with me tonight.’

‘I already have plans for tonight,’ she said quickly, relieved that she could be truthful, as her date with Hákon was coming up.

‘Tomorrow, then,’ Daníel said, and she smiled as she tried to come up with some suitable excuse, but nothing came to mind.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow.’

She felt herself flush, as if she had suddenly become a teenager, trying her best to read relationship subtexts without understanding exactly what was going on. Was he trying it on with her? Or was he just being a decent older gentleman, who was friendly to his young niece from abroad. Or rather, his not-quite niece.

Áróra didn’t calm down enough to inspect her newly painted nails until she was in the car. They were a dark pink, but lighter than her toenails, and the finish was immaculate. She was ready for the evening’s date with Hákon, although for some reason she now felt like calling it off.

99

41

‘How often do you usually hear from Ísafold?’ Daníel asked, taking care to use the gentle, mild tone that he always fell back on when interviewing relatives.

‘At least once or twice a week,’ said Violet – Áróra and Ísafold’s mother. He could hear the desperation deep in her voice, even though she was clearly doing her best to sound calm.

‘You mean by phone?’ Daníel asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But she puts something on Facebook every day. Well, normally. Now she hasn’t posted anything for almost three weeks.’

‘I see,’ he said patiently, the phone in his left hand, leaving his right free to tap at the keyboard in front of him to find Ísafold’s profile. Violet had given him her Facebook login so he could check Ísafold’s posts, all of which were visible only to friends.

As she had said, there were no posts for the second half of May and into June. Ísafold hadn’t even shared the offers and discounts from boutiques she usually liked to post, nor had she liked any cute videos of children feeding themselves or trying to walk, which seemed to be material that usually attracted Ísafold’s attention.