“Well, Oscar, I don’t want them as such. But sometimes our thoughts can become our worst enemy, if we don’t share them.”

Jeppe smiled at Anette. One of the qualities that made Mosbæk so useful was his ability to build trust quickly and get people to let down their guards.

“Do you feel well enough to talk to me?”

“I can’t remember very much of the last few days,” Oscar said, his eyes wandering. “It’s like my brain stopped working right.”

Mosbæk found a little notepad in his leather bag and smiled apologetically. “This is just for my own notes. My memory’s not so good, either. Let’s start with what you can remember.”

The boy pushed himself uncertainly up onto his elbows and reached for the cup on his nightstand. Mosbæk helped him.

“Well, I remember my family, and where we live, and school, and all that kind of thing. It’s not like everything’s gone. I’m just having a hard time remembering the most recent part. The days sort of… blend. I remember taking the boat out to the fort.”

“Did you do that alone?” Anette cut in.

“I think so.”

“What were you doing right before you took the boat out?” Anette continued. “Were you with anyone?”

“That’s good, Oscar. We’ll take it nice and slow.” Mosbæk shot Anette a warning glance. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

Malin sat on the edge of her chair, watching her son, her eyes wide. Maybe she hadn’t asked him that simple question yet. Probably no one had.

“I don’t know.” Oscar swallowed as if to hold something back.

Jeppe could hear Mosbæk exhale through his nose and knew that the psychologist was smiling at the boy.

“That’s totally fine. The doctors found some Tylenol remnants in your stomach—can you remember if you took any pills yourself?”

“No,” Oscar whispered.

“Why did you take the boat out?”

“Maybe I was feeling down…”

“Did you have an argument with someone? Maybe with Malthe Sæther?” Mosbæk asked in a cheerful voice.

“Malthe, my teacher…?” Oscar ran a finger under his nose, looking confused.

Mosbæk turned around to Jeppe and Anette with a questioning look. Was Oscar ready to hear what had happened?

Malin made the decision for them.

“Honey,” she said. “Mr. Sæther was found dead, murdered. That’s why the police are asking so many questions.” She spoke from where she sat, not making any move to get up.

Oscar gasped for breath.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Mosbæk said, taking the boy’s hand. “I get it. Are you okay?”

Oscar looked anything but okay. He looked like a deer, one second before it hits the front bumper.

“Let’s take a break.” Mosbæk patted his hand.