The apartment itself had a low ceiling and felt dark but was pleasantly furnished with pine furniture, rag rugs, and faded children’s drawings on the walls. The decor was functional and unpretentious—there couldn’t have been more of a contrast from the Dreyer-Hoff family’s meticulously designed luxury penthouse.

“Let’s sit in the kitchen. Iben just got home.” Kasper Skytte pushed open a wooden door with the knob missing and led the way in.

In the kitchen, a young girl with dark blond, shoulder-length hair and a childish face sat leaning over a cup of tea. Anette remained standing by the kitchen table shooting a sidelong glance at the dirty dishes in the sink, Kasper found a chair next to his daughter, and Jeppe sat down across from him. The father turned to the girl, and a fist-size birthmark came into view on his left temple, extending from the edge of his beard up to his hair.

“Iben, sit up straight,” Kasper instructed. “The police are here.”

Jeppe held his hand out to the daughter. She took it slowly, as if the gesture was unaccustomedly grown-up for her.

“Hi, Iben. I’m Detective Jeppe Kørner with the Copenhagen Police. As you know, your friend Oscar is missing. He told his parents that he was going to spend the night at your place…”

Iben looked down into her cup.

“But he didn’t. Do you know where he is?” Jeppe continued gently.

The girl rotated her teacup without looking up, and Kasper put his arm around her shoulder comfortingly.

Jeppe noted that she withdrew from his touch.

“If you know anything, now’s the time to tell us,” Jeppe said. “This is a very serious situation. Oscar could be in danger.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s okay, Iben.” Jeppe smiled reassuringly. “When did you last see him?”

“In front of the school, right after the last class yesterday. A few of us hung out for a few minutes and talked about what we were doing over the weekend. There were some people from our class, as well as a few seniors. Oscar was waiting for his older brother, but he never showed. After about ten minutes we started walking home. I crossed over Nørreport Station, and he went off toward the Botanical Garden.”

“Weren’t you going to hang out?”

“Yeah, but he wanted to go home first and drop off his backpack and then come over to my place later. For dinner, you know, just normal stuff.” She answered quickly and smoothly.

“Why didn’t he just walk home with you?”

“Like I said, he wanted to get a change of clothes, okay?”

Iben scrunched up her nose, and Jeppe sensed that there was a temper behind her innocent exterior.

“But he never showed up,” Jeppe said. “Did you try calling him?”

She lifted her chin disapprovingly, as if the question was stupid.