I hadn’t even thought about the fact that Mari and Johannes would have to be buried. I wondered if there would be a joint service, or if the families would want them buried separately. And I wondered what Mari’s parents would say if I showed up. I wanted to say goodbye to her properly, too. Was I not going to be allowed to do that?

And if I wasn’t, what else could I do? Doing nothing would be agony. I would try to find the one who killed her, I thought. Not just to clear my name, but because it was what Mari deserved. Truth was, I shouldn’t really be interfering. The police should be left alone to do their job. But it wouldn’t hurt to look around, I said to myself, to keep my eyes open. And I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that my brother was telling me the truth. About anything.

I’ll have a look in his room, I thought. Tomorrow, after he’s gone to school.

God.

Just the thought of going through his things, looking for clues or signs that he might be a killer, made me nauseous.

50

50

The face of Weedon, the ginger-haired tech analyst, appeared on Yngve’s computer screen in a pop-up box. He was live messaging – rather than walking round the corner to have a chat.

‘Hey boss. I thought you’d still be working.’

Åse looked at him from the chair on the other side of the table. It was hours since she’d told him to go home, but he’d ignored her and started going through the interviews again, looking for remarks or clues they hadn’t dug into deeply enough. So far he’d come up with nothing fresh.

‘I’ve managed to fix Mari’s phone,’ Weedon said.

‘OK, good. Found anything interesting on it?’

‘Er … are we really allowed to look at texts and go through her apps and stuff like that? Don’t we have to write to Facebook or Apple and…’

‘Yes,’ Yngve said. ‘I’m sure we do. But it’ll take forever to get an answer, and we might not even get a yes.’ Yngve ducked away from Åse’s gaze. ’Just take a quick look,’ he said. ‘Mari didn’t have a working phone the last forty-eight hours or so of her life, and it might be critical for us to know who she communicated with on Facebook or Messenger or whatever the hell they’re called – these apps the kids use nowadays.’

Weedon hesitated for a moment, then looked away from the camera. There was a tapping – he was typing at his usual high speed.

‘Start with WhatsApp,’ Yngve said. ‘If she used it.’

‘She did,’ Weedon said. ‘Do you want me to read you the names of everyone she was in contact with?’

‘Just the most recent ones first,’ Yngve said.’

‘OK.’