‘Do you know if he has any contact with girls other than at school?’

‘Don’t know,’ I said, with a shrug. ‘Tobias hasn’t been easy to talk to recently.’

Kyrkjebø made a note of some kind. Mork waited a moment or two before he asked: ‘Even … did you know that your brother had been in touch with Mari recently?’

I looked at him, at Kyrkjebø. At Imo.

‘They texted on WhatsApp.’

‘What about?’ I asked, before Mork had a chance to go on.

‘Well, it started when she asked for his help a little while ago. She wanted him to find some photos of you and your dad for the article she was going to write for the school paper.’

I looked at them one by one again. I couldn’t understand why Mari had gone behind my back like that. Why hadn’t she just asked me?

‘And did he help her?’

Mork nodded. ‘We think so. That’s certainly what it looks like from their communication.’

So Tobias must have met up with her. To give her some pictures. I shook my head in disbelief.

‘He…’ Kyrkjebø glanced over at Mork before she continued. ‘We know that he went to your school on the night of the murders.’

Presumably the whole of Fredheim knew that by now, so I don’t know why my heart started to race.

‘He was also in contact with her that evening.’

This was going from bad to worse.

‘Or rather, he tried to contact her,’ Mork said. ‘But her phone was broken, so she didn’t answer him.’

Broken, I thought. Shit, was that why she hadn’t answered me?

‘What…’ The words stuck in my throat. ‘What did he want?’ I asked.

They didn’t reply. I looked at Imo. He seemed to be as surprised as I was. The more I thought about it, the worse things looked for Tobias.

‘Do you have any idea where your brother might be?’ Kyrkjebø asked.

‘No.’

‘Do you have any recent photographs of Tobias we could use?’

I was so lost in my own thoughts, at first I didn’t realise she’d asked the question.

‘Yes…’ I said, after a pause. ‘I’m sure I do.’

I went through my phone. Found a picture I’d taken of him when we were painting the house during the summer. He had a few paint smudges on his chin. I showed them the picture, then sent it to Mork.

‘Thanks,’ he said. Then turned to Imo. ‘We have a search warrant for the house.’

‘A what?’

‘A search warrant. We need you both to leave the premises so we can go through it.’

‘But why?’ I asked.

Mork looked straight at me. He didn’t need to explain. I understood perfectly. They believed my brother was involved in the murders.

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