She needed to decide. She looked at him. Looked at the odd, closed-off man whom she feared. Tried to make eye contact as though that might give an answer. And then she caught a glimpse of something she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t big, just an attempt at a smile that seemed to slip, as it were, as though behind the hard exterior he was nervous. Was he afraid she would say no? Perhaps that was the reason she suddenly felt she wasn’t so scared of him after all.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Nine o’clock.’

And then it was as though he regained self-control. But he smiled. Yes, he smiled, she didn’t know if she had seen him smile like that before. It was a nice smile.

But on the metro on the way home she began having doubts again. She wasn’t too sure it had been wise to say yes. And then there was one thing she had thought was a little strange, although perhaps it wasn’t. He’d said he would pick her up but had not asked where she lived, and she couldn’t remember ever having told him.

43

Friday

The alibi

Sung-min was coming from the shower when he saw the phone that lay charging beside the bed was ringing.

‘Yes?’

‘Good afternoon, Larsen. This is Mona Daa from VG.’

‘Good evening, Daa.’

‘Oh, it’s late you mean? Sorry if your working day is done, I just wanted a couple of quotes from the people involved in the investigation. About how it’s been and how it feels to have finally solved the case. I mean, it must be a great relief and a triumph for you and Kripos, who were involved from the start, when Susanne Andersen went missing on the thirtieth of August.’

‘I think you’re a good crime reporter, Daa, so I’m going to give you some short answers to your questions.’

‘Thanks so much! My first question concerns—’

‘I meant the ones you’ve already asked. Yes, it is evening and my workday is done. No, I have no comments to make, you’ll need to call Katrine Bratt who was in charge of the investigation or my boss Ole Winter. And no, Kripos was not involved from the start, when Susanne Andersen was reported missing on the... eh...’

‘Thirtieth of August,’ Mona Daa repeated.

‘Thanks. We hadn’t been brought in at that stage. That didn’t happen until two people went missing and it became clear that it was a murder case.’

‘Sorry, again, Larsen. I’m aware I’m being pushy now, but it is my job. Could I get a quote, whatever, just something general, and use a picture of you?’

Sung-min sighed. He had an idea of what she was after. Diversity. A picture of a police officer who was not a fifty-year-old, ethnically Norwegian, heterosexual man. He ticked those boxes anyway. Not that he had anything against diversity in the media, but he knew that once he opened that door it wouldn’t take long before he was sitting on a sofa in a TV studio answering questions from a certain TV presenter about what it was like to be gay in the police. Not that he had anything against it, someone should do it. Just not him.

He declined, and Mona Daa said she understood and apologised again. Good woman.

After they had broken the connection, he stood staring into space. He froze. He was naked but that was not why. It was the alarm clock in his head, the same one that had rung when he was at the Custody Unit. It had begun to ring again. It wasn’t what Groth had said about Beckstrøm seeming different when he left that had made the alarm go off. It was something else. Something altogether — and distinctly — different.

Terry Våge stared at the PC screen. Checked the names again.

It might of course be a coincidence — Oslo was a small town, when it came down to it. He had spent the last few hours deciding what to do. Go to the police or carry out the original plan. He had even considered calling Mona Daa to bring her in on his scheme and — if it was whom he suspected and they hit the jackpot — get the story published in the country’s leading newspaper. The two of them on an adventure together, wouldn’t that be something? But no, she was too proper, she would insist on notifying the police, he was sure of it. He stared at the phone, on which he had already tapped in the number, all he had to do was press Call. He was done debating with himself now, and the winning argument had been this: it might be a coincidence. He had no absolute proof to present to the police, so surely that meant it had to be all right to continue digging on his own. So what was he waiting for? Was he scared? Terry Våge chuckled. Bloody right he was scared. He pressed his forefinger firmly on the Call icon.

He could hear his own ragged breathing against the phone while it rang. For a brief moment he hoped no one would take it. Or if they did, that it wasn’t him.

‘Yes?’

Disappointment and relief. But mostly disappointment. It wasn’t him; this wasn’t the voice he had heard on the phone the other two times. Terry Våge took a deep breath. He had decided beforehand that he would go through with the whole plan no matter what so as not to be left in any doubt afterwards.