And with her eyes fixed on Odd’s back as he lumbers over to the fridge, Karen curses softly under her breath. The realisation is as instantaneous as it is unwelcome: this isn’t the first time in eleven years she’s seen her cousin. She saw him yesterday morning, on the ferry from Thorsvik.

With mounting dismay, she stares at the long, thin, grey plait hanging down her cousin’s back.

*

It’s twenty past nine when Karen turns back onto the highway. Blackcurrant cordial, coffee, half a beer and big helping of hoggva – which only needed an hour in the microwave before it was defrosted enough to fry – have left her stomach more than a little upset. Granted, she had been reminded of how much she liked the traditional Doggerian mix of lamb’s liver, pearl barley, onion and cloves, but there’s a reason a plate of hoggva is usually washed down with a strong shot of spirits to aid digestion. Today, she had to refrain from such aid, despite her relatives’ coaxing. When it comes to blood alcohol levels, she holds herself to a stricter standard than the law does. A considerably stricter one than her relatives seemed to think reasonable.

‘Bloody hell, Kay-Kay, drop the police crap already, will you? Without a proper stomach scraper, you’ll be chewing the cud all night. It’s not like you’re going to crash and die . . .’

Ingeborg had come to her rescue.

‘Give it a rest, Odd.’

He had closed his mouth with a snap. Karen is still unsure whether he realised he’d put his foot in it, or if Ingeborg still holds the authority to force obedience. If that’s the case, it will hardly come as a surprise to her that her youngest son is a member of a criminal motorcycle gang.

She hadn’t wanted to bring it up with Odd. She will probably have to eventually, but not tonight. Instead, she had asked Finn when they stepped outside together for a cigarette.

‘How long has Odd been a member of the OP?’

He had replied without any sign of surprise.

‘Since they moved to Tyrfallet, I assume. You didn’t know?’

She had seen the flash of mistrust in his eyes.

‘No, how could I have? I know some of the names, obviously, at least of the leaders, but they hardly keep a public website with a membership list. Besides, I’ve never worked a case with links to the OP,’ she’d added.

‘Why are you really here?’

Finn’s voice had taken on an edge of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And for the first time since she arrived, she’d felt a chill break through the warmth.

‘I told you. To lead the investigation into Fredrik Stuub’s death.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘Nothing else. What, a murder case isn’t enough?’