Anette stepped over a pile of delicate bones, presumably from a dead bird. A boat sailed by outside. Its lights shone through the mullion windows, drawing black lines on the ceiling.

Mads turned off the flashlight. “Pretty, isn’t it? Sometimes I come over at night just to see that.”

They watched in silence as the patches of light slid over the vaulted ceiling. Once the boat passed, it went completely dark again.

“Is it true that you guys found a body out at the incineration plant?” he asked. “Or is that just a rumor?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss current investigations. Unless you know something you want to share?”

He didn’t respond.

Anette suddenly felt tired of it all. “All right, man, turn on the light!”

“Should we call it quits for today?” Mads said, switching the flashlight back on.

Anette turned to face the now-black window and the sea beyond it. Whatever had happened between Oscar and Malthe Sæther, people always left something behind—trash, wreckage, bodies.

“What about one of the other forts in the harbor? Fort Middelgrund, which is being renovated? You said it’s pretty much deserted.…”

“But as I said, also under video surveillance, not to mention thoroughly searched by Search and Rescue. He’s not there.” The flashlight flickered and Mads shook it with a sigh. “I think people need to start preparing for the possibility that he may never be found.”

MALIN DREYER-HOFF PULLED Jeppe into a hug and rested her head against his neck. The intimacy was unexpected but so sorrowful that after a brief hesitation Jeppe put his arms around her. He stood awkwardly still with his coat on, sweating, afraid of getting too close but also wary of rejecting her. The apartment was dark and quiet, and slowly her breathing calmed down.

He patted her on the back and pulled away gently to check her face. Her pupils were small, like a hunted fox’s.

“Isn’t Henrik home?”

“He had an errand. As usual…”

Jeppe nodded. Maybe the couple just couldn’t stand being together right now.

“Could we sit down somewhere?” he asked. “As I said, we still don’t have any concrete news about Oscar, but something has happened that we need to discuss.”

She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands, not wearing any makeup and clearly long past any kind of vanity.

“I tried to paint a little,” she said, “just to think about something else. But I can’t focus. I think we have a nice bottle of rum in the kitchen. Will you join me?”

Jeppe hadn’t had dinner yet, and his stomach rumbled aggrievedly at the thought of pouring alcohol into it.

“Thanks, why not?”