Leo had made no reply. Not known what to say. Not been able to get out what he was really thinking: that it would probably be better for Billy if he didn’t have to wake up.

Maybe she’d had the same thought.

‘He’s my son,’ she’d said. ‘But I never want to see him again.’

Then they’d been quiet for a long while, letting it all sink in. All the things that could be said and all the other things, the ones that couldn’t be put into words.

‘Go home, Leo. Go home to Karen.’

‘She’ll be fine without me.’

And he hadn’t said anything about the fact that he actually wondered if she would be. Fine without him. Or better, maybe.

‘It’s what I want to do,’ Luna had said. ‘As soon as I can, I’m going home. You belong here, Leo, I don’t.’

*

It’s not until the third police car, with an ambulance hard on its heels, passes him on Road 32 and looks as if it’s slowing down just before the turn-off towards Langevik that fear hits him like a punch in the stomach.

Chapter 76

76

The realisations come to her one by one. Lining up like beads on a necklace. The cold wind around her shins is no longer just the usual draught. The front door must be open downstairs.

She’s not alone in her house.

And then the reflexive attempts to rationalise. Maybe something completely innocent, a passer-by looking for help. A neighbour. Maybe Leo or Sigrid, after all. Someone who knows she’s asleep and doesn’t want to wake her.

But the silence.

No footsteps, no lights turning on. Whoever’s inside her house doesn’t want her to know.

The voice screaming at her to turn back, to go back into the bathroom and lock the door. To run.

And then the other voice. The one urging her on, telling her to go downstairs, to face whoever it may be, confront the situation. Telling her it’s her only chance.

She slowly starts moving towards the stairs. Only makes it two steps before being struck by another realisation. It’s not just one or two boards that creak and should be replaced; the whole damn floor is groaning under her bare feet.

Six quick steps and she’s at the top of the stairs. Two steps down. Three.

They spot each other at the same time.

She has no time to think about why she recognises him. In the dark, the large figure at the bottom of the stairs could be almost anyone. Anyone, standing with one hand on the banister and the other hanging limply by his side. Anyone, looking at her with eyes that are invisible in the gloom.

But she knows.

She knows who he is before the sound of a bottle breaking against the wall reaches her.