“It all happened so fast,” she said, as though she could read his mind. “So, I understand why you might find it hard to believe. But I think this might help.”

She opened the clasp of her small, bulging handbag, fished something out of it, and handed it to him.

Schäfer got up from his chair to take it as a warm, tingling feeling spread across his upper body.

In his hand, he held a photograph. Red digits in the bottom corner revealed it had been taken a week and a half earlier. The picture showed a group of children and a tall, brusque-looking man gathered around a small table. They were looking at something and Schäfer couldn’t see what it was, but everyone’s eyes were on a cardboard box at the center of the table. Everyone with the exception of one person. A woman who was standing a short distance behind the gathering.

She was looking straight at the camera, and Schäfer instantly knew.

It was her.

It was Anna Kiel.

CHAPTER

5

READERS’ EDITOR CARL-JOHAN “The Shovel” Scowl was sitting at the big, moss-green conference table, flicking through a fat case file, when Heloise entered the room.

At the end of the table, Mikkelsen, the editor in chief, was picking restlessly at his reddish-brown beard. He got up briefly to greet her and waved her eagerly toward the table.

“Come on in,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the road so that we can all move on with our lives, dear friends. After all, we have a paper to publish, and I think we’ve spent quite enough time going over this sorry tale.”

Mikkelsen’s tone was mild, bordering on cheerful, and Karen Aagaard, who was standing next to Heloise, looked at him rather taken aback. Then she turned her attention to The Shovel, who didn’t seem to have registered the peculiar jolliness coming from the end of the table.

“Yes, do sit down, Heloise.” He mispronounced her name, and she suspected him of doing it on purpose.

“The H is silent,” she said. “It’s pronounced É-louise.”

The Shovel looked up. “Whatever. I’m glad that you were able to come at such short notice.”

“Not a problem. Though I have to admit, I’m surprised that we’re back here again.” Heloise looked around the room. “We’ve gone over the story several times now, and I’ve nothing new to add.”

“And you’re sure about that? You haven’t overlooked some detail? Information that could influence my decision?” The Shovel’s voice was surprisingly dark and guttural, ill suiting his slight, almost girly appearance.

“I am. I’ve already told you everything relevant to the case.”

“Right. Then let me briefly summarize events as you’ve described them, so we can be absolutely sure I’ve understood you correctly before I finish writing my report.”

Heloise crossed her legs and waited.