She could clearly hear the sound of a crying child through the crack in the door that stood slightly ajar, and before any more seconds of suffering could tick by, she threw open the door to the tower and aimed her gun at the man in the green top who was kneeling down, blowing on his son’s arm in an attempt to console him.

73

The woman who stepped through the entrance doors and looked around before moving forward and taking a queueing number bore an undeniable resemblance to Dunja Hougaard. The hair, the clothes and that ghastly bag were just a few of the similarities. If she would just turn around and look up at the CCTV camera so he could see her face…

Cheap fucking Swedes, thinking they could get away with one lousy camera in a lobby of that size. The angle diagonally from above was nothing but a bad joke.

At least he could study her gait, though unfortunately it didn’t match Dunja’s at all. While she would somehow glide across the floor and suddenly appear in a different spot, this woman moved with unusually marked, almost militant steps.

She also looked taller than Dunja, who wasn’t even five foot six. He backed up the tape and paused it when the woman passed the wall-mounted height strip. Despite wearing worn trainers, she reached well into the red field, which indicated a height of around five foot eleven.

Kim Sleizner felt a pang of disappointment, though he was far from giving up. It didn’t matter how long he’d have to sit here and go through endless CCTV tapes, he wasn’t going to stop until he found her.

His concern had been completely warranted. She hadn’t taken a long vacation to lick her wounds. She hadn’t moved because she wanted a bigger flat or a fresh start. No, the little piss cunt had deliberately gone off grid with one single goal in her sights.

Where it hurts the most, she’d written. When he least expected it.

She’d given him the finger, in writing, lured him straight into her trap and with a taunting laugh showed him she was in charge now.

The visit to her flat had been utterly humiliating, and it was the last time he was going to allow himself to underestimate her. From here on in, it was on.

Total war.

The first step was to find her, which had turned out to be easier said than done. The little bitch had been surprisingly smart, had made sure to cut all ties to her former life. But no one could vanish without a trace. Not even Dunja, short of being burned on the stake like the witch she was.