Bo Ramnes kills the engine and leans back. That had gone better than he’d dared to hope. Granted, he had assumed Karen would be home, not that some bloke would open the door and get physical with him. But that will definitely be useful ammunition. He has no doubt Aylin will come crawling back, though he’s surprised she has stayed away this long. Twenty-four hours now – and if she’s not with her parents, and not hiding at Karen’s, she must be with that Danish cunt. Or possibly with the faggots up in Thingwalla. She doesn’t have anyone else.

He runs both hands through his hair and feels his knee throb, exhaustion spreading through his body. Whatever, he’ll let her sweat until tomorrow. She can just sit there and wait for him to find her. Because he’s going to find her. They both know it.

A wave of rage drives his pulse back up. What the fuck does she think she’s doing? She’s constantly provoking him and then she acts like it’s all his fault. Doesn’t she understand what a terrible position this puts him in, both professionally and politically? She knows she has no chance of winning. She can cause trouble, yes, but she can’t win. Hasn’t he made that abundantly fucking clear by now? There isn’t a court anywhere that would give her custody after hearing his version. He could probably get the police to bring them back to him right now if he was willing to play all his cards. On the other hand, he won’t be able to look after the children on his own, and no one can force her to come back. No, better to wait until she gives up of her own accord.

Bo Ramnes unbuckles his seat belt and opens the car door. There’s a stabbing pain in his knee when he twists his leg. Maybe he should just call the police right now and tell them what happened up at Karen’s house in Langevik? It’s hardly illegal to ring someone’s doorbell to ask about one’s dear wife and children. Assault, on the other hand . . . Hadn’t it been the same guy he’d seen at the faggots’ New Year’s party? The one who had performed even though he was clearly a bag of nerves going up on stage. Some fucking junkie, no doubt, and now he’s staying with Karen. No shock there.