Heloise gave up on the folder. She glanced at her iPhone on the table in front of her to make sure it was still recording their conversation. The red record button was lit and the line on the screen jumped every time it registered sound waves, like an irregular heartbeat on an electrocardiogram.

“All right,” she said. “Please continue.”

“I met Kenneth when I was in the seventh grade. He was a year older than me, and the main thing we had in common was that we were both lonely. We felt like outsiders, like we were different, wrong. We became very close friends. Unlike me, Kenneth comes from a good family. He has a loving home, a solid foundation. So, he taught me that there are people in this world who are willing to do anything for you, people you can count on. We both had a hard time in school, but we had each other, and that helped. I slowly started doing better.”

“So, you felt good again?”

“I started doing better, I said.” Anna smiled. “I didn’t say I felt good.”

“Could you please elaborate on that?”

Anna took a sip and set her teacup down again. Then she said, “For years I tried to forget what had happened. I moved away from home as soon as I was old enough to get a job, and I never looked back.”

“You mother also told me that she never saw you again.”

“You talked to my mother?”

“Yes.”

“So, are you surprised that I never went home again?”

Heloise shook her head.

“I got by on my own. I worked at a lot of different places: cafés, restaurants, nightclubs. You know, the kind of jobs college students get. None of my coworkers were serious about their jobs—they were just service jobs, almost demeaning for them to do while they were in school waiting for a better life. But I didn’t know what else I should do. I didn’t feel like there was any better life waiting for me.”

“You didn’t want an education?”

“Well.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I felt lost, and time just passed. Suddenly it felt like it was simply too late. I didn’t have the guts. I had settled into a kind of peace, a tolerable routine in my job, in my existence. It wasn’t a happy life, but at least it wasn’t running off the rails anymore. I was doing better.”

“What happened then?”

“At some point several years ago I was working at a restaurant on Store Kongensgade. Madklubben, you know it?”

Heloise nodded. She knew the place well.

“It was a good job with nice coworkers, and the clientele was really varied. There were students, jet-setters, retirees, tourists, celebrities—all kinds of people. It was a nice place. I was really happy to be there.”

“Then what happened?”