‘He wanted to order another pint and I told him it was after last call. Could have been nicer about it, because he normally didn’t make any trouble, but we were short-staffed and finally about to close. I wanted to count out the till and get home, and people were leaving, but for some reason, he was still there. I suppose I wasn’t very friendly, said something about him having had enough.’

‘And how did he react?’

‘He didn’t. At least that’s what I thought at the time. He just put the money on the table and stood up without a word. But when I held open the door to let him out, he stopped in the doorway, I remember that. Just stood there, staring me right in the eye before opening his mouth.’

Karen waits.

‘“Cunt,” he said. Just that. Looked me right in the eye and said it, all calm-like, you know. “Cunt”.’

Chapter 34

34

Greta Hansen doesn’t want to see her. Doesn’t have time to stop by the station, doesn’t want Karen to come to Thysted Hospital where she works or to her home. She sounds tired, verging on tears, when Karen reaches her on her mobile thirty minutes after finishing up with Sandrine Broe.

‘But I was there just a few days ago. Can’t we do this over the phone?’

Karen reluctantly decides not to pressure her into a meeting.

But none of the questions she asks on the phone lead anywhere. No, Greta Hansen has no connections to New Builds Ltd. Granted, she sublet a studio flat in Gaarda fifteen years ago, but back then, the province owned the building. No, she doesn’t know anyone by the name of Gundar Freske, doesn’t know anyone in a wheelchair, unless you count her mother who spends her days in one at the nursing home. But sure, Karen can send over a picture, and sure, she promises to be in touch if she recognises the man in it.

That’s the last Karen hears from her.

*

Anita Kollbar also sounds slightly weary when Karen asks if she’s up for answering a few more questions.

‘Well, I was discharged yesterday, so you’ll have to come by my house, then. Do you know where I live?’

Karen does.

She drives past Hellen and Martin Talliksen’s house and can’t help but glance over. The sight of the blue moped leaning against a birch tree makes her stomach knot. Granted, Karl Björken had felt reassured after the conversation he had with Hellen in the morning, when he called to see how her brother was doing, but the thought of a disabled young man, unable to speak for himself, having spent the night in the nick has cast a pall over the entire police HQ.