THEN

Yngve Mork parked outside Fredheim High School, questions still bouncing back and forth in his head after the interview with Even. He really didn’t know what to think. Even was clearly having a difficult time processing what had happened. But might he have answered Yngve’s questions a little bit too well? And the grazes … well, the explanation he gave for those really made an odd story.

Yngve also thought about the short conversation he’d had with Imo before going to Granholtveien 4. Imo had confirmed his arrangement with Tic-Tac about the door on the other side of the school. He had been allowed to park his car in the janitor’s spot last night, but said that he’d left a lot sooner than he expected to – somewhere between 10.30 and 10.40. And he’d been true to his word: he hadn’t told anyone else about the door being open.

Yngve got out of the car. Immediately he was met by a herd of reporters.

‘Mork, what can you tell us about the killer?’

‘Have you got any solid leads you’re working on?’

‘Do you have any suspects yet?’

‘Will there be a press conference anytime soon?’

Yngve didn’t answer any of them. He simply pushed forwards into the school building.

Inside, he was glad to see that Johannes Eklund’s body had now been removed. Four crime-scene investigators were examining the staircase, taking pictures from every angle possible, recording every mark, every trace of blood, every scrap of evidence they came across.

Therese Kyrkjebø was standing a few feet away from the staircase, monitoring the work while sipping from a paper cup. Ginger tea, probably. She’d been suffering from morning sickness, and this certainly wasn’t helping.

‘There’s coffee for you here, if you want it.’

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘How are we doing?’

‘I haven’t asked yet,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I thought I’d wait for you.’

Yngve related what had happened in the interview with Even Tollefsen.

‘So he wasn’t here at all last night?’ she asked.

‘That’s what he said.’

‘Well, there goes that theory.’

‘Yeah,’ Yngve said. ‘Maybe. Who’s in charge of the forensics team?’

Therese pointed to a short woman at the bottom of the staircase. Yngve went over, Therese following behind, and introduced himself.

The woman stood up. ‘Ann-Mari Sara. I’m in charge of the forensics division at Kripos.’

‘Thanks so much for coming in on such short notice.’

‘It’s what we do.’

Sara was in her early fifties. The white full-body forensics suit made it impossible to tell what she really looked like. The only thing Yngve noticed about her was her high cheekbones, and that her eyes were rather close together.

‘Have you discovered anything I should know about?’ Yngve asked.