‘Your keys,’ I said to Ole, as we hurried out of the pig shed. Ole stopped and held up his arms for me to search his pockets.

I found nothing.

‘Imo must have taken them,’ Ole said, frightened. I turned towards the pig shed, half expecting to see Imo’s muddied face and shaking hand, the gun pointing at us.

Instead there was a bang.

From inside the pig shed.

The sound was so loud that I jumped, but it wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

Ole and I looked at each other for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime.

It took forever for my mind to start working again. I just stood there, paralysed, staring straight ahead.

Imo.

My substitute father.

My friend.

I felt numb. I couldn’t even cry.

Then I started to walk back towards the pig shed.

I heard Ole talking to me, but I didn’t hear what he said – all I could think about was Imo and his pigs. They were probably not hungry enough yet, but if there was even the tiniest chance, I wanted to stop them before they got a chance to … I didn’t let myself imagine it.

Luckily it was so muddy around him that the blood and brains I knew must have been blown out of his head were not easily visible. I focused on his legs and used them to pull him behind me, out of the pen. Then I secured the gate.

I left him there and went back out to find Ole.

He had sat down on the wet grass, his back leaning against the car. He had a distant look on his face, like he was still in shock.

I think I was, too. I just couldn’t believe what Imo had done – to Mari, Johannes and Børre, and what he wanted me to take part in. What I had prevented with maybe only a second or two to spare.

It took me a while to call the police. When I did, Yngve Mork told me they were already on their way. I didn’t understand how, but it wasn’t important. All I knew was that it was over.

Ole and I just sat there, listening to the sounds of the forest. The birds, the trees, the branches moving in the wind. Cones falling to the ground. Aeroplanes circling the skies above us, waiting to land at Oslo Gardermoen Airport.

Before there had been a storm inside me.

Now everything was quiet.

82

NOW

‘Would you like to take a break?’

Ms Håkonsen’s hand is on the box in front of me. It feels like my shirt is stuck to my body. My tie is too tight. I think about loosening it a little.

‘No … I don’t think so.’