Sigrid definitely isn’t home; she would have barged in and woken her up. Asked if Karen was ill, sleeping in the middle of the afternoon.

And Leo. Technically, he could be in the annex. He could have come home to sleep, like her.

Technically.

He’s still at the hospital, she thinks. With Luna.

The real question is if he’s ever coming back.

Memories of the past twenty-four hours are lurking in the back of her mind, but don’t quite surface fully. Short flashes, like fragments of a film: Leo and her in the kitchen. When was that? The pictures in Billy’s phone, the videos. Yngve Formby’s pompous refusal to help. Idun’s hushed, anxious voice on the phone. The ferry, the blue lights, the barracks.

The stench.

And Luna. The memory of her raw skin, the cable ties digging into it, makes Karen close her eyes and shudder.

All’s well that ends well, she tells herself. Luna’s alive, that’s what matters. Whatever the media throw at them now, it won’t change that.

Why won’t she just go home?

Still with her eyes closed, she fumbles around for the loo roll, tears some off, and wipes. Stays on the toilet for a while, wondering what time it is, how long she has been asleep for. Maybe she should get up. Feed Rufus.

So she stands up, lets the water run over her hands until it turns cold, splashes her face, cups one hand, and drinks.

When she returns to the bedroom, a cold gust of wind swirls around her ankles. She tells herself she has to do something about the draught. Then she immediately forgets about it and collapses onto the bed. She pulls the wet towel off her pillow, aims for the chair but misses and watches it fall to the floor.

I should get up, eat something. I’m just going to warm back up first.

She crawls in under her duvet and moans with pleasure as the warm bed envelops her and she sinks into the pillows.

Just a bit longer. There’s plenty of dry food in Rufus’s bowl.

Her last thought before she drifts off again is that the sun is no longer coming in through the gap in the blinds.

Chapter 70

70

Jounas Smeed pushes the lift button again even though it’s already lit. Resists the impulse to give it yet another frustrated push and turns to Karl Björken instead.

‘How much did you get?’

‘Almost five hours, actually. Basically fell asleep in the hallway when I got home, and Ingrid kept the kids away, so I’m all right. You?’

‘Yeah, I managed to squeeze in a bit of shut-eye. Lay down in the breakroom the moment the press conference was over and woke up when Sören Larsen called about the results. Well, that happiness was short-lived. This thing seems stuck, let’s take the stairs.’