Chapters (92)
- Cover
- Maps
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Epilogue
- About the Author
She gets lucky with the ferry. Just two minutes after driving on board in Thorsvik, the engines begin to rev up. The sky is leaden and a slow snowfall is blurring the edges of Skalvet in the distance. There are a lot more cars on the ferry today. She counts fourteen in addition to her own, but no one seems minded to leave the warmth of their vehicle for a breath of fresh air or a cigarette. Instead, Karen notes, some are using the crossing as an opportunity to nap. Several drivers have their eyes closed, the rest are on their phones. The only sound is the thudding of the engines and the occasional screech of a hopeful gull. The colour seems to have drained from the world; the sky is grey, the sea is grey and the only sign of life outside the cars is a handful of gulls that have settled down on the railing.
Karen turns the radio on and impatiently drums her fingers against the steering wheel while the ferry chugs through the slushy water. She glances at her watch and then at her phone. Just then, a familiar melody streams out of the speakers.
‘It’s one o’clock, this is your headline news. A man in his mid-thirties was found dead at Groth’s distillery this morning. Thorstein Byle, commanding officer of the Noorö Police, confirms that an investigation has been opened, but declines to reveal the victim’s identity or the cause of death.’
The newscaster pauses, then continues, ‘New Year’s Eve is reported to have been relatively uneventful in most parts of the country, with only a few cases of disorderly behaviour and assault. A knife fight involving five teenagers took place in the Dunker neighbourhood of Moerbeck. Two people were taken to the local hospital but are said not to have sustained life-threatening injuries.’
As the newscaster moves on to a car crash outside Ravenby and a collapsed scaffolding in Lemdal – neither of which caused any serious injuries – Karen stops listening. Apparently the only one who didn’t have someone watching over him last night was Gabriel Stuub.
‘And now, the weather. A low-pressure area moving in from the west is expected to reach the western parts of the country and Noorö tonight. DMI has issued snow and wind warnings. Conditions are expected to worsen over the course of tomorrow, before the storm moves on toward . . .’
Storm warning. Should have known, Karen mutters loudly to herself.