Five minutes later they’re trudging through the snow down one of the narrow side streets with their hands deep in their pockets.

‘Up for a pint at the pub I’m staying at?’ Karen asks. ‘I imagine all the reporters are staked out by the hotel by now.’

‘Do they have any more rooms? I don’t exactly relish the idea of walking over to Rindler’s later and taking on the assembled forces of Kvellsposten by myself.’

‘No idea, but it’s not exactly tourist season,’ Karen replies and stops next to a loading bay.

She fumbles around her pocket for her cigarettes, finds them and lets out a curse.

‘Fuck! I meant to ask to borrow some clothes at the station. Now I don’t even have the stupid cardigan with me, I left it in the car. God fucking dammit,’ she mutters, then manages to light a cigarette and takes a deep drag.

‘Are you done?’

‘Bloody hell,’ she adds.

‘I can see why Haugen doesn’t want you talking to the media,’ Karl says with a grin. ‘He doesn’t like women who curse. Or smoke, I imagine.’

‘Aren’t I lucky he’s not here then,’ Karen snaps and takes another drag, holding the smoke in her lungs and feeling her pulse slow. ‘Cursing is actually a sign of intelligence,’ she says. ‘I read a study about it the other day. That and being messy. Apparently, there’s some sort of correlation with creativity.’

‘And heart attacks. Feeling calmer?’

She nods and they trudge on.

‘Have you talked to Kneought about when the autopsy is going take place?’ she asks after a while.

‘Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. You’ll have to handle the morning meeting by yourself. Or the bone saw, take your pick.’

‘I should really swing by Ravenby, too. I need to buy something to wear. And deodorant. I didn’t even bring a toothbrush. Do you have any gum?’

*

Ellen Jensen is on the phone behind the small reception desk. When the door opens, she looks up and waves Karen over. They wait until she has finished the call.

‘I think you have a visitor,’ she says with a nod in the direction of the pub.

So they found their way here after all, Karen sighs inwardly. She’s really not in the mood to fend off reporters tonight. All she wants is a pint of ale.

And while Karl stays behind to ask if Ellen has a room for him, Karen glumly pushes open the door to the pub. Scans the room in search of hungry journalists and bulky camera bags. Then her heart skips a beat.

At one of the window tables, a young woman is reading a paper. A young woman with long black hair and a nose ring.

Chapter 40

40

Fear hits her like a hammer. Karen covers the distance to Sigrid’s table in four long strides.

‘What are you doing here? Did something happen?’