And then, suddenly, she remembers Leo’s surprise when she asked about Luna the other day. The irritation in his voice when he asked why Karen kept bringing her up. She tries to remember what Kore had said on Walpurgis. In that restaurant when Karen had congratulated him on getting his ‘little golden goose’ back.

No, she can’t remember what Kore answered. If he said anything at all.

And while her mind races faster and faster, an unpleasant insight spreads through Karen Eiken Hornby, making every muscle in her body tense up.

Luna never came back.

Only her phone did.

*

Her thoughts are interrupted by Leo’s voice.

‘What the fuck is . . . ? Oh my God.’

He’s staring at the phone with a mix of fear and revulsion.

Even before Karen can get up and take it from him, fear hits her like a punch in the stomach.

Chapter 47

47

The woman in the picture is lying on her side with her back to the camera. Her long, white dress looks grimy and is riding up her thighs. The back of it looks dark. She’s lying with her knees pulled up slightly, and if it weren’t for the angle of her arms behind her back and the thin blue packing string around her wrists, it could easily have been a photograph of a sleeping woman with bare feet and a dirty nightgown. It could have been anyone, if it weren’t for the platinum blonde hair.

‘Is she dead?’

‘I don’t know, Leo. I don’t know.’

Karen swipes to the next picture. And the next. Picture after picture of Luna. In the first two with a hood pulled over her head, sitting on some kind of cot. Then without the hood, her eyes terrified, staring at the person photographing her. And then the one with her on her side and her back to the camera again.

The last picture.

Karen quickly backs up to the thumbnail overview. Looks at the tiny images and the dates they were taken, scrolling down until she finds what she’s looking for. The first picture of Luna in captivity, with the black hood on, still straight-backed, her dress still clean, was taken on 24 April.

Leo is looking over her shoulder.

‘Look at the time,’ he says. ‘Four thirty-five. It was taken just hours after we saw her for the last time. He must have gone back that same night, after we left. When was the last one taken?’

Instead of answering, Karen brings up the picture and holds up the phone so he can see for himself. She has already noticed what now draws another curse from Leo.

‘Yesterday,’ he says. ‘God fucking dammit, that’s just a few hours before he ran his car into a mountain.’

‘Just over five,’ Karen replies.

‘Look, there are videos, too.’