‘I suppose,’ he admits, ‘but it must have been ages since that happened. Don’t you have family up there, come to think of it? I seem to recall you saying something to that effect once.’

‘Yes, Dad was from Noorö and I spent a lot of time with his family as a child, but I haven’t been there in years. Haven’t seen them since . . . well, it’s been a long time.’

‘All right, well, this might be for the best, then, since you know your way around up there,’ Jounas Smeed says, as if to convince himself he has once again made a rational decision. ‘How soon can you leave?’

‘Same time as Brodal and Larsen, early tomorrow morning, not before then. Unless you want to send a car and driver. Like I said, I’ve been drinking.’

So you had a reason for asking about the Christmas snaps after all, she muses. Bloody Smeed.

‘Tomorrow’s fine,’ he replies quickly. ‘The locals will have to hold the fort until then. Your liaison up there is a Thorstein Byle, by the way, regional commander of the Noorö Police. Call him tonight if you can. You’re going to have to make do with Byle and his boys until I can rustle up someone from the CID to help you out – if it does turn out to be a murder, that is.’

‘OK, anything else I need to know?’

‘Yes, I may be on holiday, but it goes without saying I want you to keep me informed. My phone is always on and you can call any time.’

‘OK, anything else?’

She can hear her boss take a deep breath, then a few more seconds of utter silence follow. In the end, Karen relents.

‘Sigrid stopped by for a bit, but I think she’s about to head home now,’ she says. ‘She says hi.’

Jounas Smeed exhales.

‘Say hi back,’ he says. ‘And . . . thanks, Eiken,’ he adds.

Chapter 5

5

‘Are you serious? Is there no one else they can send? Haven’t they put you through enough? And on Christmas, too!’

Eleanor Eiken is sitting on the bed watching her daughter move a stack of dark blue T-shirts from her closet to a big cloth bag on the bed. Karen is working quickly and efficiently, her long dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, whipping at her face every time she turns from the closet to the bed and back.

‘Everyone’s sick or out of town,’ she replies and shoves bras and knickers in next to her toiletry bag. ‘I’m the only one available right now.’

‘Available!’ Eleanor snorts the word derisively. ‘You’re not available, you’re on sick leave. Don’t you think I can tell you’re still in pain?’

Karen freezes mid-movement and stares at her mother, braces to protest but is cut off before she can even start.