Ole quickly produced a business card from his leather mobile phone cover. ‘The police found one of these in her jacket pocket,’ he said, and held it out to me. I took it and looked at it. ‘Obviously, I’ve spoken to her over the years, but I’ve never given her one of my business cards.’

‘No?’

He shook his head.

‘You’re sure?’

‘One hundred percent. I would have remembered.’

I flipped it over. There was nothing written on the back.

‘You didn’t, by any chance, give it to her?’ Ole asked.

‘Me? Why would I do that?’

‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.’

One time when I was visiting Oskar, Ole had given me one of his cards. It was just before I went to play for Norway’s under-seventeens team against Malta and Italy. Ole wanted me to call the news desk, or even better, him, as soon as the matches were over, so he’d given me the card. I had no idea where I’d put it after that, though.

‘So Mari wanted to get hold of you, is that what you’re saying?’ I asked.

‘It would appear so,’ Ole said. ‘I’m trying to find out why.’

I looked at him.

‘Of course, it might mean nothing at all,’ he added.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

Somehow, though, I got the feeling that maybe it did.

13

NOW

‘So, Ole Hoff was involved in some way or another from the start?’

Ms Håkonsen coughs into her palm, then apologises. She looks at me, waiting for my reply.

My cheeks are hot. It’s not easy, talking about yourself and what you did and felt, even if it wasn’t that long ago. You feel so many eyes piercing you, making a note of every single remark you make. My chair is hard and uncomfortable. I glance at the clock on the wall, yearning for it to be over. It’s not even half past nine yet.

I say sorry, and ask the prosecutor to repeat the question. While Ms Håkonsen does, everything that happened with Ole comes crashing down on me again. And I’m scared too – about what’s coming up: soon we will be talking about Mum.

I have to pull myself together before I answer. ‘You could say that, yes.’

‘OK. So the interview is over, you get up from the kitchen table, and Ole Hoff is about to go back to his office to write up the story?’

I nod and say yes at the same time. ‘Before he left, he said he would call me to go over my quotes. Just to make sure he didn’t publish anything that wasn’t accurate.’

‘Noble,’ Ms Håkonsen remarks.

‘Apparently it’s common courtesy.’

After a moment’s hesitation, she seems to agree.

‘Then what happened?’ she asks.