Construction work in the city centre prevented Daníel from taking what would have been the straightforward route to the sheltered-housing centre on Lindargata, so he parked further down and walked back along the street. The cranes that stretched skyward between the houses, and loomed over the building like a half-empty promise of something that could be, sparked an inner discomfort. Considering all the hotels that were being built, it seemed clear that a single business model was being milked to death – yet again, and he felt not a little relief that he was no longer a uniformed officer, now that another financial crash was looking likely.

Daníel had the feeling that the large woman in the office of the sheltered-housing centre was the type you’d prefer to have on your side in a tight spot. He saw how she stiffened when he mentioned Ísafold’s name, but her face relaxed when he showed her his identification and explained that he was a police officer. He was careful not to mention that he was looking into Ísafold’s disappearance, as he had no formal warrant to be doing so now that he was on holiday, although it was certainly true that he was a detective and was helping the family track her down.

His search through Facebook the day before had yielded little information, other than the fact that Ísafold’s posts had recently become more infrequent, with noticeably fewer pictures of her with Björn. He wasn’t able to see Björn’s profile using Violet’s access, so he had clearly blocked her. Now his intention was to get to grips with Ísafold’s situation, gather the basic information and then take Áróra with him to the station to make a formal statement concerning her sister’s disappearance.

‘Ísafold Jónsdóttir was given notice in April and left immediately. Notice was legal and all the requisite written warnings had 111been given first,’ the woman said, lifting her chin high so that her head of curls shook.

‘Ísafold Jónsdóttir has now vanished without trace,’ Daníel said in a low voice, and leaned forward on the woman’s desk to look her in the eye, a tactic that always made it harder for people to turn away. When they couldn’t look elsewhere, it was harder for them to avoid the truth. The woman sighed and leaned forward herself, towards him.

‘We should have gone to the police with this,’ she said, ‘but we have a duty of care to the people here. My opinion was that it was a bad idea to make the matter public because that would give others like her ideas about how they could operate.’

‘People like her? Why was Ísafold sacked?’

‘Stealing drugs,’ the woman said. ‘There are vulnerable individuals living here, and we have to be sure that those who have keys to the apartments are worthy of our trust.’