‘I’m here to see Bo Ramnes,’ Karen replies curtly and quickly looks around to get a sense of the layout.

Toilets and a waiting room with white leather sofas to her left and a short hallway that ends in another glass door on her right.

‘Do you have an appointment?’ the receptionist asks and puts her hand on the phone on her desk.

‘No, this is an emergency. In there, right?’

Without waiting for a reply, Karen continues toward the glass door and hears the young woman say something about ‘from the police . . . I couldn’t stop . . . coming in now’ behind her.

As she opens the door, she hears a phone being slammed down in the room immediately to her right, so she quickly walks over and pushes down the door handle. Bo Ramnes is getting up out of his tan leather office chair when Karen slams the door shut behind her. If she had bothered to look around, she might have noticed the impressive size of the room, the plush Persian rug and the view of the park. Now, all she has time to register is a tiny glint of uncertainty in Bo Ramnes’ eyes and a shadow of rage passing across his face, before he hides it all behind a wide smile.

‘If it isn’t Karen,’ he says and sinks back into his chair. ‘Or should I call you Detective Inspector Eiken? To what do we owe the honour?’

Without replying, she pulls up a chair and sits down across from him. She fixes Bo Ramnes with a level stare before calmly telling him:

‘It’s over.’

‘I’m afraid I really don’t know what you—’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about,’ she cuts him off. ‘You won’t set foot on my property ever again and you won’t lay a finger on Aylin.’

‘I don’t think my wife would appreciate you barging in here to meddle in our marriage.’

‘Marriage? You mean frozen hell. But it ends now; she has told me everything.’

Bo Ramnes leans back in his chair with a smile.

‘She has, has she?’

‘Aylin went to the police yesterday to file an official report saying you’ve been assaulting her for years.’

‘And you went with her, I assume? Helped her concoct this little story?’

‘No, I’m afraid you’re out of luck on that one. A colleague of mine took her statement. You’re not going to be able to play that card in court.’

Bo Ramnes tilts his head to the side and studies his visitor with a kind but concerned expression.

‘Is that right?’ he says, nodding slowly after she’s done speaking. ‘Court, you say. So I allegedly assaulted my wife and I’m also guilty of trespassing. Any other accusations you’d like to throw at me?’