Marike had, despite her fragile state, instantly grasped the situation and dug out a pair of muddy wellies and an old woollen cardigan, which she’d shoved in one bag along with a can of Coke and Karen’s half-eaten slice of toast in another. That was all the studio had been able to offer in terms of clothing and sustenance, and Karen had no time to waste in any event. Another wave of guilt crashes over her. Why had she taken time off? She should clearly have stayed on Noorö over the holiday. And then that other voice, the one she prefers to listen to right now: it wouldn’t have made any difference if you’d been up there; you’re not a bodyguard.

*

Surprisingly, her boss repeats that sentiment almost verbatim when she gets him on the phone twenty minutes later. Karen realises it must be evening where he is. She can hear loud music and voices in the background and although Jounas Smeed sounds less than sober when he picks up, he quickly pulls it together and listens without interrupting.

‘OK,’ he says. ‘I guess we know for sure what we’re dealing with, then. Did you contact Brodal and Larsen?’

‘Just now; they’re on their way. Not best pleased, either one of them. Sören Larsen was the worse of the two, actually.’

‘Probably hungover,’ Smeed comments archly.

‘Frustrated and tired, more like. The new year could hardly have come off to a worse start as far as he’s concerned. We really need more technicians this time, even if that means paying them overtime.’

‘I’ll call Viggo Haugen as soon as we’re done here and let him know what the situation is,’ he says. ‘And you? Frustrated and tired, too? Or just hungover?’ he adds.

Karen sighs. She’s used to her boss switching gears from chummy to bullying in the blink of an eye, depending on which best suits his needs in the moment. And she has seen both sides too up-close. This time, Jounas Smeed almost sounds like he’s genuinely concerned about her wellbeing. It must be the tropical cocktails temporarily mellowing his arrogance, she muses.

‘All of the above, I’m afraid. I shouldn’t have gone home for New Year’s, I should have stayed up there.’

‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Smeed replies harshly. ‘Your job is to investigate crimes, not prevent them. You’re a copper, not a bodyguard.’

Just don’t tell Viggo Haugen that, she retorts inwardly. The Chief of Police never misses an opportunity to underscore that the main mission of the police is, in fact, to prevent crime.

*