While the sauce simmered, she opened her computer and wrote to PC that she was taking one last personal day and would be back on Monday. She quickly checked the police report system and read that Kasper Skytte had turned himself in at a police station in Stuttgart and confessed to falsifying documents. His confession would be considered and investigated by the public prosecutor for serious economic crime.

Sara switched off her computer and put the pita bread in the oven to toast. Kasper Skytte would probably take his coconspirators down with him when he fell. His confession would have consequences for others besides himself, particularly his daughter. Poor Iben; she was already at odds with life. Her father being a criminal wasn’t exactly going to help her come to terms with her existence.

Sara walked back to her bedroom. In the meantime Meriem had climbed into bed with her older sister and the two girls were lying close together, whispering conspiratorially.

She looked at them and knew that nothing else really mattered.

“Time for breakfast, you two troublemakers!” Sara pulled the covers off them and tickled all the toes she could reach before fetching the food in the kitchen and starting to set the table.

She picked up a book from the floor. Through the Looking-Glass. She flipped to the title page and saw how Jeppe had once written his name in childish handwriting. Thoughtfully she slid her finger over the ink as if it could create a connection to him who had once written it, make things right again. But no matter how she tried to make things work, she came up short. She was a package deal, and he didn’t seem like someone who wanted a whole package.

Sara clapped the book shut. The blessing and curse of having children was that they always came first. She brought Through the Looking-Glass into the kitchen, lifted the lid of the trash can, and threw the book away.

THE SUN PLAYED on the surface of the ocean, sending golden patches of light into the living room of the old house in Snekkersten. Jeppe closed his eyes and let the light play pleasantly over his eyelids. Behind him, Johannes was cleaning out his wardrobe. He could hear him incessantly rattling things and opening and closing drawers.

“Just say if you want me to leave,” Jeppe said.

“No, no, it’s fine. Aren’t you going to work today?”

“Only if it’s absolutely necessary,” Jeppe said after a moment’s thought. “Like, if we need to make another arrest.”

“Another?! What’s that supposed to mean? I thought the case was closed.”

“Not quite.” Jeppe opened his eyes and looked out the window toward the sea. “It turns out that Henrik Dreyer-Hoff was helping Jenny Kaliban sell stolen artifacts online.”

“You mean to the creepy pedophiles?” Johannes asked, and then slammed a drawer closed behind him.