‘We might not be able to say exactly when, but—’ he cast a quick glance at the pathologist, as if seeking permission, before continuing — ‘it seems safe to assume that in both cases intercourse occurred not long before they died. Possibly after.’

‘Go on.’

‘Had they been alive for some time after intercourse, their bodily functions would have disposed of traces of the condoms. A living body would do that over the course of a few days, perhaps three. But semen and condom powder would last longer in a dead body. It...’ He swallowed, gave a small smile. ‘Yeah, that was all.’

‘Any more questions?’ the pathologist asked. She waited a couple of seconds before clapping her hands together. ‘Well. Like the title of the movie: If more bodies turn up, just give us a call.’

Only Skarre laughed. Katrine wasn’t sure if it was because he was the only one of them old enough to remember the movie, or if morbid humour worked best when there weren’t corpses present.

She felt her phone vibrate and looked at the display.

21

Wednesday

The thrill begins

Katrine had to pull hard on the steering wheel of the fifty-year-old Volvo Amazon as she swung up in front of the entrance to the Radium Hospital.

She drew up beside the tall man with the beard.

Saw Harry hesitate before opening the door and sitting down in the passenger seat.

‘You kept the car,’ he said.

‘Bjørn loved it so much,’ she said, patting the dashboard. ‘And he took good care of it. Runs like clockwork.’

‘It’s a classic car,’ Harry said. ‘It’s also dangerous.’

She smiled. ‘You’re thinking of Gert? Relax, I only use it in the city. My father-in-law comes by and tinkers on it, and... it smells of Bjørn.’

She could tell what he was thinking. This is the car Bjørn shot himself in. Yes, it was. The car Bjørn had loved, and had driven out of the city, to a straight stretch of road alongside a field in Toten. A place he had fond memories of perhaps. It was night and he had moved to the back seat. Some believed it was because his idol, Hank Williams, had died in the back seat of a car, but she suspected it was because he didn’t want to mess up the driver’s seat. So that she could continue using it. So that she had to continue using it. Yes, she knew it was crazy. But if this was her self-imposed punishment for fooling a good man into believing that their child was his, a man who had always been good, way too good, then so what? He loved her to bits and always doubted that she really loved him, he had even gone as far as asking her straight out why she hadn’t chosen a man in her own league. No, this was a punishment she gladly accepted.

‘Good you could get here so quick,’ he said.

‘I was just up the road at the Forensic Medical Institute. So, what’s up?’

‘I just realised my usual driver isn’t quite sober, and I need to go to a place where you can get me in.’

‘Doesn’t sound very promising. Where were you thinking?’

‘The crime scenes,’ he said. ‘I want to see them.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Come on. We found Bertine for you.’

‘I realise that, but I made it clear we don’t reward tip-offs.’

‘Yes, you did. Is it still cordoned off?’

‘Yes, so no, you can’t go there on your own either.’

Harry looked at her with something like quiet desperation. She recognised that look, recognised those damned pale blue eyes, now a little wider than usual, the body he wasn’t able to keep quite still in the seat. It was ants under his skin, it was the mania. Or was it something more? She had never seen him so worked up before, as though this case were a matter of life or death. Which of course it was, but not his life or death. Or? No, of course it was just the mania. Meaning he must — must — hunt.

‘Mm. Drive me to Schrøder’s then.’

Or drink.

She sighed. Checked the time. ‘Suit yourself. All right if I collect Gert from kindergarten on the way?’

He raised an eyebrow. Gave her a look as if to say he suspected her of having an agenda. Which of course she might have, it was never wrong to remind a man he had a child. She put the car in gear and was letting the temperamental clutch out when her phone rang. She looked at the display and put the car back into neutral.

‘Sorry, I have to take this, Harry. Yes, Bratt speaking.’

‘Have you read what Dagbladet have written now?’ Compared to most people the Chief Superintendent didn’t even sound annoyed. But Katrine was using the Bodil Melling yardstick and knew her boss was furious.

‘If by now you mean—’

‘It went up on their website six minutes ago, it’s this Våge again. He’s written that forensic examination has revealed that both girls had sex just prior to or after they were killed, and that a condom was used, probably so as not to leave any DNA behind. How does he know that, Bratt?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, then let me tell you. We have someone leaking information to Våge.’

‘Sorry,’ Katrine said. ‘I was imprecise. How is obvious. What I mean is I don’t know who the leak is.’