“I know they were close, the two of them. But we checked out all his bank transactions, all his outgoing and incoming phone calls, his email system, and ransacked his house. We haven’t found anything.”

“They’re still in touch,” Heloise repeated.

“That’s very possible, yes. But, like I said, we haven’t been able to prove it.”

“How does she pay her bills?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Anna’s expenses. I mean, she must sleep somewhere. She must eat something. How does she pay for it?”

“She’s been on the run for several years now. And yes, unless she’s out begging on a street corner somewhere, she must have money to live on. Maybe she got a job. That happens. People on the run shave their heads, change their name to something international sounding like Maria or Michelle, and get a job under the table at a beach café in Umba Umba or somewhere.”

“Or maybe she has a crazy-rich friend who sends her money.”

“Or maybe she has a crazy-rich friend, right,” Schäfer conceded. “If they agreed on a PO box, an address, a collection time, then yes. He could easily be sending her cash in an envelope or a package.”

“But wouldn’t she have to show ID to receive mail like that?”

“Yeah, probably. But it’s easier to get your hands on a fake driver’s license than most people think. Ordinary people can rarely tell the difference between a real ID card and a fake one.”

Heloise’s landline rang on the desk in front of her, and she could tell from the number that the call had come from the lobby.

“Hang on for a sec,” she said.

She put her call with Schäfer on hold and answered her phone. “Hello?”

“This is the switchboard. I have a call for you.”

“Thanks, go ahead and put it through.”

It was quiet on the line for a couple of seconds.

“Hello?” a man’s voice said.

“Yes, hello,” Heloise replied. “This is Heloise Kaldan. To whom am I speaking?”

“Are you the one who was in Herlev today?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were at the Lantern today.”

“And you are?”

“My name is Frank Kiel.”

Heloise blinked a couple of times. “Anna’s father?”

“Yes.”

She quickly pushed the paperwork on her desk aside, found a pen in the mess, and flipped open a notebook. “What can I help you with, Frank?”

“You talked to my ex-wife today.”

“Did she tell you that?”

He began to laugh, and then it turned into a cough. “No, we don’t talk anymore,” he said.

“Then how did you get my name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

Mr. Goatee, Heloise assumed.

“What can I do for you, Frank?”

“You can tell me what you wanted to talk to Jonna about.”

“I wanted to talk about Anna.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to get an impression of her.”