“We haven’t found him yet. I’m so sorry.” Jeppe let the words fade. This morning’s status report from the emergency management agency was discouragingly unambiguous.

Malin Dreyer-Hoff responded with more of a sound than an actual word. Then she cleared her throat.

“Okay, thank you,” she said. “We haven’t heard anything, either.”

The echo of a tiff in the kitchen between Sara and Meriem reached the bedroom, where he was sitting. Jeppe hoped that the conflict wouldn’t be audible on the other end of his phone call.

Where there is strife, at least there is life, he thought, and closed the door.

“I…” Malin sounded as if she, too, were walking away from someone or something. “I have something I’d like to show you. Do you think we could meet?”

“I could come by”—Jeppe looked at his watch—“in about an hour?”

There was silence on the other end. He was about to repeat his offer when she responded.

“Meet me at work, Stockholmsgade forty-one. It’s also in Østerbro.”

At work, now? he wondered, but didn’t ask.

“Okay, I’ll be there at nine o’clock.”

He hung up and sent a text to Anette and Thomas Larsen, telling them to meet him at the office in Teglholmen at noon. It had been forty hours since Oscar Dreyer-Hoff had last been seen. They were going to have to work parallel to the search and rescue teams, exploring every conceivable option, even on a Sunday. Just as he received their okay, he heard the bathroom door open and hurried out there before Amina had a chance to get back in. Sara’s older daughter was in the habit of occupying the bathroom for a half hour or more at a time. On top of that she was chronically morning grumpy. He showered quickly amid an array of scented bathing items, got dressed, and sat down at the table next to Meriem.

“Did you sleep well?” He never quite knew how to act with the girls. He wasn’t sure if he could stroke Meriem’s cheek and felt shy about his lack of knowledge as to how to talk to an eight-year-old.

“Answer, sweetie! Jeppe asked you a question!”

“Fine.” Meriem sat reading a comic book and didn’t look up. She turned the page and stuck a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, dripping some milk on the table.

Jeppe pushed the bowl closer to her. She pushed it away, her eyes on the comic book.

“She’s just tired.” Sara set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Have they found him?”

“No.” He took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue.

“Found who?” Meriem looked at them, suddenly attentive.