Again, the janitor appeared to be thinking. ’I guess people will find a way out of here, if they need to. But it’s never really been an issue. People know the rules. Plus, there’s a reminder ten minutes before eleven, a ding-dong sound that’s played for about thirty seconds over the school’s PA system. That always makes people hurry out.’

Yngve considered this for a moment while turning back to look at Johannes Eklund. Not even the persistent banging on the entrance door could persuade him to wrench his gaze away from what used to be the face of a good-looking young man. Yngve had seen pictures of Johannes in the Fredheim Chronicle.

‘Can you see who it is?’ he asked Tic-Tac. He coughed to clear his voice. ‘Let them in if they’re police or from the ambulance service. No one else can enter.’

Tic-Tac moved quickly, his keys rattling on the chain that hung from his jeans. Yngve took a few more steps towards the staircase, being careful where he placed his feet. He squatted down beside the body and examined it more closely. Now he could clearly see lacerations on the left side of the boy’s forehead. He quickly scanned the stairs and hall for a potential murder weapon. Nothing.

The sounds of footsteps at the entrance made Yngve stand up. It was his colleagues from Fredheim police station Vibeke Hanstveit and Therese Kyrkjebø. He had called them, on his way to the school. Normally Hanstveit, officially in charge of every investigation they conducted, would stay away from the crime scene, but the second he’d told her that a young boy might have been killed, she’d headed for her car. Kyrkjebø did the same.

Yngve met them with his arms raised, telling them to brace themselves. Then turned and led them over to the stairs.

Hanstveit put a hand in front of her mouth. Kyrkjebø made a gasping sound. None of them spoke for a few seconds.

Finally, Hanstveit cleared her throat and said: ‘Have you called the forensic team yet?’

‘No, I was just about to,’ Yngve replied.

‘Let me take care of that,’ Hanstveit said. ‘You have other things to tend to right now.’

Without waiting for his reply Hanstveit pulled her phone from her coat pocket and walked a few steps away. Kyrkjebø edged past Yngve to the foot of the staircase. Drips fell from her clothes onto the floor in front of her, so she moved back slightly. Then she just stood there. And looked. Only her eyelids moved. Her face seemed to lose more colour by the second.

She swallowed, then swallowed again. ‘He must have been here all night’, she said in a quiet voice. She wiped her wet face. Touched her neck. Then squeezed the tip of her nose between her thumb and index finger.

Yngve placed a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the muscles tighten under her uniform jacket.