“I can’t really give a specific answer to that. A few days, sometimes longer.” He patted the folder. “But maybe we’ll find the kidnappers now that we have these letters. Thank you. Oh, and by the way, does the author Oscar Wilde mean anything to you? The quote comes from one of his books.”

“No, I’ve never read anything by him.” Her pink-varnished fingertips twisted the many gold rings on her hands anxiously. “The thought of not knowing where my child is. That he’s scared, maybe suffering…”

Jeppe leaned forward and put his hand on her arm.

“Every resource we have is searching for him, I promise you that.”

She put her hand on his and gave it a grateful squeeze, holding the eye contact. He knew there wasn’t anything he could offer her that would make her feel better but the safe return of her son.

“We’ll investigate the letters and search for the boat. It must be in the harbor somewhere. I assume a small boat like that couldn’t go very far?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s okay. I’ll ask Henrik.” He gently pulled back his hand, and they both stood up.

A framed drawing of a face hung over a curved leg console table. The features were young and pretty, the gaze turned away from the observer, as if out of shyness. The drawing had been made with assertive black lines, the paper’s planes varying in tones of gray. Jeppe stopped.

“I don’t know how obvious it is, but that’s a picture of Oscar, actually.” Malin stood beside him and admired the drawing of her younger son. “He was so cute when he was little. Do you have kids?”

It was one of those questions that one can only answer with a yes or a no. Jeppe hadn’t quite decided yet.

“No.”

He smiled at her, and she reached for him. Her eyes reminded Jeppe of the panther at the zoo. Trapped by her own worst fear.

“It’ll be all right, Malin.”

The kiss was unexpected. Soft and inviting, tasting of coffee and fear. Jeppe pulled away from her and she looked down.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I’m just… Things are so—”

“That’s okay. I understand,” Jeppe said, even though it was unclear to him why she had kissed him. A need to feel soothed, perhaps, to think about something other than what was haunting her? But why didn’t she seek that comfort from Henrik?

“We’ll find him.”

Jeppe cast one last look at Malin before he opened the door. They would definitely find Oscar. The question was whether he would be alive when they did.

CHAPTER 8