When Erik gets out of his van he looks over the site with a knot in his gut. It is not good that Tom has done this. He suspects Clive was the main culprit, but still – it is not good. He is having a hard time persuading the other men not to inform the authorities. They’re interlopers, the men say. Not even Norwegian. They don’t understand our values. Erik reminds them about Tom’s wife, the lovely Aurelia. Some of them met her and were very charmed. They begin to back down.

Tom comes out of the house and greets Erik outside with a handshake and a wide grin. It is all a mask. ‘I wondered where you’d gone,’ Tom says brightly. ‘Were you sick yesterday?’

Erik shakes his head, looks at the ground. ‘No, not sick. Maybe a little anxious …’

Tom folds his arms. He’s trying to keep the mood light, but he can read Erik’s body language, and it doesn’t bode well.

Both men are silent for a moment, filtering through the silence for the right thing to say. They stand unusually far apart from each other.

‘The other men will not be returning,’ Erik says with a sad sigh. ‘They are nervous about the discovery. They say it is a bad sign. And I think the truth is they do not want to get into trouble.’

Tom nods. ‘Understood.’

Erik takes a breath. ‘I’m afraid that I won’t be returning, either.’ He slides his eyes to the pit. He can see a concrete mixer on its side, some grey puddles that have hardened. A layer of earth has been patted down. He knows instantly what strategy has been employed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

Tom sucks in air, suddenly winded. ‘Right,’ he says. ‘I’ll be sure to pay you for the rest of your time.’

Erik shakes his head, holds up his hands. ‘No, no. Please. Just for work we have done.’

‘No, no,’ Tom says, ‘I’ll pay you …’ He can hear himself begin to sound like his father. Money as a defence mechanism. He swallows back the rest of his words.

‘Keep in touch,’ he says, as Erik climbs back into his van. With a wave, Erik pulls off, driving much too fast.

   33   

NO LONGER NEEDED

Now

Maren’s face darkened. I thought she might actually lift the marble ashtray on the table and hit me. After all, I’d just asked her if she’d murdered Aurelia. And as the silence stretched out in her cold, locked bedroom, I felt I already knew the answer: Maren’s beloved sister Ingrid had been raped and murdered. Maren had discovered a lookalike in the form of Aurelia. Perhaps she was jealous that Aurelia was alive and her sister wasn’t. Or perhaps her obsession spilled over into an ugly craving, and when it couldn’t be satisfied – she snapped.