'He's out to get me. He's going to do whatever it takes to stop me from giving evidence.'
'But you're unlikely to be giving evidence,' Jacob said. 'Your testimonies aren't that important.'
'Obviously he doesn't know that!'
She bit her lip and was silent once more, scared that he would become more dismissive than he already was.
'Why didn't you call your mother?' Skarre said.
Linda sniffed. 'She's always telling me that I'm exaggerating.'
'Are you?'
'No!'
'Then you have to call her at once and tell her what has happened. Does she have a mobile?'
'Yes. Can't you come over?'
'Linda. You've called my home number again and there's nothing I can do. However, I can send someone else-'
'That's not what I want!'
Skarre sighed a long sigh. 'Try to get hold of your mother. I'm sure you can manage that. Talk to her and together the two of you can decide if you want to report it.'
Linda felt something big and heavy sink inside her. 'You don't believe me,' she said weakly.
'I understand that you're afraid,' Skarre said diplomatically. 'What happened in Elvestad was terrible. Everyone's afraid. It's normal.'
Linda had a lump in her throat so big that she could no longer speak. He didn't believe her. She could hear it in his voice. He was annoyed, he talked to her the way you talk to a lying child, whilst at the same time trying not to upset her. She felt dizzy and supported herself against the table. Her knees began to tremble. Everything was going wrong, no matter what she did. She'd described it just like it happened: that she'd seen two people in the meadow, she'd said it looked as though they were playing. She had never said that she saw a murder. She had said the car looked like the one Goran had. Not that it was the one. She had reckoned it was important since they went on and on about it on the radio and on the TV. Now everyone was turning against her. And now, when things were starting to happen, they didn't believe her. Skarre made one last effort. 'I suggest you call your mother and explain everything to her. Then you go to bed and wait for her. Your mother can call the police later if she thinks it's necessary.'
Linda hung up and went upstairs. She felt lethargic. She stayed in bed staring at the bump that was the spider. Everywhere she looked she saw only enemies. They treated her like a brat. Then again she was seized by fear and she felt very cold. She wrapped her duvet round her and shut her eyes tight. She didn't want to call her mum. She wanted to be alone. Become invisible. Not bother anyone any more. Not accuse anyone, not give evidence, not say hello, not be in anyone's way. They wanted her out of the way. She understood it now. There was a ringing sound in her ears. She didn't understand it. Just lay still, waiting for the light. At 4 a.m. she heard the key in the lock and shortly afterwards footsteps on the stairs. Her door was opened a chink. She said nothing, pretended to be asleep. Then her mum went to bed. Linda turned on the light and went over to the mirror. The marks on her throat were already fading. Could it really have been Goran? It had not sounded like his voice. She was convinced that the man in the outhouse was taller. How would she ever dare go out again? Take the bus to college or cycle along the road? Perhaps he was watching her, spying on her. She went back to bed and lay down. The hours passed. Light began seeping through the curtains and she heard the birds in the garden outside. Now that her mum was in the house she finally began to relax. She fell asleep and woke up because someone was standing by the side of her bed. It was close to noon.
'Are you ill?' her mum said, baffled. Linda turned her back on her.
'Aren't you going to college?'
'No.'
'So what's wrong?'
'Headache.'
'Why did you start a boil wash and leave the clothes in the machine?' her mum wanted to know. 'You could at least answer me,' her mum said.
But Linda said nothing. It felt good to lie quite still and not speak. She would never speak again.
Chapter 18
According to the forensic report the murder weapon had a smooth surface. As a result, a hammer was eliminated. The weapon was either very heavy or the killer very strong, or both. Sejer turned the pages one by one and pondered. The audacity of the case bewildered him. In a meadow, while it was still light. Only a few metres from Gunwald's house. Mind you, if the killer was from outside the area he might not know of the house and in the heat of the moment he might not have seen it. Attacks of this sort generally happened under cover of darkness. The man had not turned off the road and driven Poona to a grove. He had acted on impulse, it had happened suddenly. For some reason he had been overcome by the need to destroy, with a force rarely seen. If this was the first time it had happened to him, he must now be truly frightened of himself and of his rage. It was going to show in some way. But that might take time. Possibly he would start drinking. Or he might develop an irascible and argumentative pattern of behaviour, or he might become withdrawn and walk around silently with his hideous secret.
Jacob Skarre appeared in the doorway. He looked tired, which was unusual for him.
'Late night?' Sejer said.
'Linda Carling called in the night. It was nearly 2 a.m.
Sejer looked at him in surprise.
Skarre closed the door behind him. 'I'm concerned,' he said.
'You don't have to think of her as your daughter,' Sejer said.
'No. I'm concerned for myself.'
Sejer gestured towards a chair.
'This is the second time she's called. The first time she reported there had been a man in the garden staring at her. She was home alone, she often is. Then she called just after 2 a.m. last night and told me she'd been attacked. In the outhouse. By a man she thought was the killer. And who had come to warn her against saying anything else about the Hvitemoen case.'
Sejer raised one brow several millimetres. This was an indication that he was now very much surprised. 'And you're telling me this now?'
Skarre nodded wearily. 'The thing is, she's making it up,' he said. 'It's me she wants.'
'The confidence of the young is so refreshing,' Sejer said, narrowing his eyes. 'Are you quite sure?'
'I was sure last night,' Skarre said heavily. 'She claimed the attack took place around midnight. She called no- one. She took a shower and went to bed. She didn't even call her mother, who was away somewhere in her truck. She didn't get up until 2 a.m. to call me. I don't understand it. She should have called right away. The emergency services. Not my home number. And there's something else. I've seen her – twice – outside my flat. She stood on the pavement staring at my windows. Obviously, she doesn't know that I saw her.'
'But you say you're concerned?'
'What if she's telling the truth,' he said. 'What if the killer really did come to her house?'
'I agree, it sounds like a fantasy,' Sejer said decisively.
'I'm worried that I might be wrong.'
'But apart from that?' Sejer said. 'What could she tell us about her attacker?'
'Nothing. But she thought he was tall.'
Sejer remained at his desk, resting his chin in his hand.
'It's highly unlikely that he would stick his neck out like that.'
'True,' Skarre said. 'Highly unlikely. However, it's best that I don't have anything to do with her. Then it'll pass of its own accord. He ran his hand through his curls. They still stuck out. 'You're going to see Goran Seter?'
'I'm going to lean on him hard. If I get a reprimand from above afterwards, I'm prepared to accept it if it gets the case moving. If nothing else then I want to eliminate him.'
