Back at the office, Yngve met Therese Kyrkjebø by the water dispenser. She drank a cup, then filled it again. She placed a hand on her growing belly, as if to make sure everything was OK.

‘I’ve spoken to a friend of Børre Halvorsen’s,’ she said. ‘Victor Ramsfjell is his name. He didn’t hang out with Børre the night he was killed, but Victor says Børre told him he’d seen Even Tollefsen through one of the school windows on the night of the murders.’

‘Did he know which window?’

‘The one on the far right,’ Therese said. ‘The one you climbed through. According to Victor, Børre was sure that it was Even he’d seen.’

Yngve gave this some thought for a few seconds.

‘This case gets weirder by the minute,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Therese answered.

‘I better go and see if we’ve had any tips come through on the hotline. Any leads on the leather glove?’

‘None yet,’ Therese said. ‘Except that half the population owns one, apparently.’

36

36

After the memorial, it seemed as if lots of people needed some kind of distraction. On my way out, I heard online gaming sessions being organised. Others were going to one of the cafés in the town centre, just to chill. A few of them mentioned needing a smoke. I wasn’t sure of what.

I was on my way to my bike, which had been propped up against a lamppost, when a familiar voice behind me called my name. I turned and saw Oskar, Fredrik and Kaiss coming towards me.

I took a deep breath as they stopped in front of me. At first, none of them spoke. Kaiss tapped one of his feet on the ground. Oskar ran a hand through his hair, and looked everywhere but into my eyes. Fredrik fiddled with his fingers.

‘What’s up?’ Oskar said, after a while.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. I could hear the anger in my voice.

‘Right,’ he said. I wasn’t going to make it easy for him, so I just stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to go first.

‘So, I spoke to my dad,’ he started. ‘And he said you were pretty shitfaced last night.’

‘Lucky bastard,’ Kaiss muttered.

Oskar was still having trouble stringing his sentences together, but he went on: ‘So if you were pissed when Børre was killed, you … couldn’t have done it,’ he said quickly, without looking at me.

‘Is that your idea of an apology?’

‘I guess,’ Oskar said. ‘

‘We know you couldn’t kill anyone,’ Kaiss offered.

‘Do you?’ I asked. ‘How can you possibly know that? How can anyone possibly know what they’re capable of doing, if the wrong buttons are pushed?’

I had no idea why I just said that.

‘Are you saying—?’