They’re on the motorway, heading back to the police station in Dunker. After a few more attempts to press Idun Formby, her husband had stood up and announced that their visit was over. Like Karl, Yngve Formby had declared that since they could hardly be under any form of suspicion, he would like the two of them to leave his house.

Karl’s question about whether there were any pictures from Billy’s childhood in the house they could have a look at, perhaps an old photo album, had been met with a dismissively short headshake.

‘We’ve never been in the habit of glorifying ourselves through photography. We have no need for it,’ he’d added.

*

‘I don’t think they can be captured on film,’ Karen mutters now. ‘That man’s the devil himself, if you ask me.’

‘I didn’t,’ Karl says with a quick glance in the rear-view mirror before he changes lanes. ‘But I agree,’ he adds. ‘So, what the hell do we do now?’

The answer comes in the form of simultaneously ringing phones. They exchange a surprised look while searching their jacket pockets. Karen finds hers first.

‘Fuck,’ she says when she sees the name on the display.

Jon Bergman, DTV

Then she sees Karl pop his hands-free into his ear and answer his phone with the words:

‘Hiya, Stolt.’

It’s hardly a coincidence that the Police Authority’s press secretary and a reporter are calling at the same time. Karen has no hope at all that the media has simply caught wind of the fact that the police are looking for a woman being held against her will. They must have been tipped off. And whoever leaked it will hardly have held back on the most salient detail – that the woman in question is Luna Johns. The question now is really only how many other news desks know.

She pushes the red receiver and listens while Karl grunts and asks terse questions before he ends his call, too.

‘Right, so now we have to deal with the media, too,’ she says dully. ‘That was Bergman from DTV calling me.’

‘Yes, but according to Stolt, they’re the only ones he has heard from so far. Goddammit, the leak must have come from one of us.’

‘Yeah, who else? I highly doubt Yngve Formby put them on the scent,’ Karen replies sullenly. ‘But it’s just a matter of time now before every journalist in the country is squealing with joy. Not just in this country, either,’ she corrects herself. ‘Fuck, this is exactly what Smeed was worried about.’

‘Well, what did he expect? Sooner or later, everything leaks. The only question is who got there first this time.’

‘Probably some broad.’

Karl shoots her a searching look.

‘Wow, I thought you were a feminist, Eiken. You sound more like Johannisen.’

‘I only say that because it was Jon Bergman calling,’ she explains. ‘He likes making out with female officers.’