His jaw moved toward me as his temple moved away. I struck him with all the anger and the frustration and the grief of the past year.

He remained on his feet, took half a step backward.

He ran his tongue experimentally around his mouth, spat blood onto the yellowed grass. He smiled. “That’s assault.”

“It is.” I smiled back.

He looked down at the blood, then looked up at me, locking eyes. “Here, assault is a grave offense. The police take it very seriously.”

I laughed.

Bror laughed too, holding my gaze, eyes full of revenge.

I said, “Are you going to murder my family before or after you report me to the police?”

“Very satirical.”

I knew we were in danger; I knew the threat was real; I would not be cowed.

I laughed again.

Bror’s laughter stopped. Mine did not. I could hear it echoing across the courtyard. Something in his gaze, though, as if he were trying to send a signal. His eyes flicked. I turned, and in the upstairs window I saw a thin male figure in a black suit.

Edvard, caught as if in a spotlight.

Time stopped.

Of course.

Oh, you traitorous man.

I thought of Edvard and of the help he had provided. Of the Post-it note that he must have passed to Milla, of the photograph of the boat that had fallen into our hands, of his own lost uniform, for which he had blamed Jo. All that evidence of a failing police culture. And all of it was true, and all of it was damning. That was the brilliance of the scheme. Brick by brick Edvard had helped build a narrative of police incompetence at the best, of a conspiracy at the worst. Bror had fed that narrative to me in tantalizing morsels, and each time I had reacted as he guessed I would.

Edvard returned my gaze, level and unblinking. How could he feel no shame? He had betrayed us; he had betrayed Jo; he had betrayed the memory of all those children on Garden Island. I thought of him down on the shore, collecting information about the missing. I thought of the anonymous gray telephones he had given us, and the anonymous gray telephone that Licia had carried. I thought of the eight police uniforms in the room off the corridor in the farmhouse. Was it Edvard who had enlarged past Bror in the video, hiding his presence on the island?

While I was watching him and wondering at his treachery, Edvard nodded and he smiled his introverted smile. The betrayals were not over. Edvard and Bror were enacting a plan.

Edvard stepped away from the window. Bror was walking stiffly to his car. Had Edvard known who he was aiding? Or had Bror convinced Edvard that he too was a teller of great truths?

I welcome the fallen. Bring them back to the fold.