‘You didn’t commit all these murders, Ruth. At least, not all of them. When Jan Petter Olsen was killed you were still in Lindås. You saw the death notice, read about it in the newspaper and then … left for Bergen.’

She eyed me with a wilting expression on her face. Her tears had dried up; the glow of her cigarette was colouring her wan cheeks red. ‘Oh, yes?’ she said, in a sarcastic tone.

‘Who are you protecting, Ruth? Your real father?’

She stared at me wildly. Eyes walkabout. The cigarette bobbed up and down and she clutched at her throat.

She wanted to say something, but there was a bang on the window, so hard that we both jumped.

She flashed me a frightened look.

I stood up and turned out the light. Then I went over to the window and peered out.

Vegard Vadheim and Eva Jensen were outside, steely-faced. Two paces behind them was the landlord, wearing heavy boots and holding a bunch of keys in one hand.

I made a sign, drew the curtains, switched on the light and went out to open the door.365

Vegard Vadheim’s sent me an eloquent look and it was not a pretty speech he gave as Eva marched in ahead of him and spoke in a low, friendly voice to Ruth, who had immediately jumped to her feet.

As Vadheim and I came into the room she looked from one to the other. Then she raised her hands to her face and said: ‘I confess everything. I did it. All of it. It was me who killed them…’

Vegard Vadheim glanced at me.

I shrugged and mumbled: ‘She admits everything, but don’t believe everything she says.’

‘You’d better come with us to the station, Veum. I think we’ll have to get to the bottom of this.’

‘Don’t listen to him. He’s lying,’ Ruth burst out, pointing to me.

Vegard Vadheim nodded reassuringly to her. ‘We’re used to that. We’ve known him for years.

366

46

I spent the night at the police station. Most of it I was waiting while Vadheim and Jensen interviewed Ruth.

I was allowed to lie on a sofa bed in an unused room and sleep, persecuted by restless dreams.

In the morning Vadheim came in and woke me. I sat up as he sank back wearily in the closest chair. He looked tired – more tired than I had ever seen him. A marathon runner passing the tape for the very last time.

He stroked his face as though wiping away an invisible spider’s web, heaved a deep sigh and said: ‘She’s sticking with her confession. It’s a mind-numbing tragedy behind all of this. Whatever happened … I’ve experienced a few cases like this one, but it never ceases to amaze me how people can do such things to their own children. It’s just appalling.’

I nodded.

‘So you don’t think she did it?’

‘No. Of course you’ll have to investigate it yourself. But based on the information I was given when I was in Lindås to speak to her, that was where she was when Jan Petter Olsen was killed. So she definitely couldn’t have committed that one.’