Hulda hadn’t forgotten that she owed the couple in Gardabær a phone call, but she didn’t like to ring them on Christmas morning. She was guessing that all they wanted was the same as they had for weeks now: to ask for news of the investigation. But, unfortunately, there was nothing to tell and the odds were vanishingly small that their daughter would be found alive after all this time. Then again, perhaps she had deliberately run away, out of a desire to make a break with her parents. It had emerged during the inquiry that she had decided to take a year off between school and university to travel around Iceland and that her parents had heard from her only intermittently since she’d left. It was conceivable that something had been going on under the surface at home which no one wanted to admit. And, of course, travelling alone around the country was inherently risky. It wasn’t impossible that the girl had gone out hiking or even climbing in the highlands on her own. Iceland could be an inhospitable, hazardous environment at any time of year, as an experienced hiker like Hulda was well aware. Yet, in spite of the dangers, she had always felt most at peace with herself in the wild interior.
She got out the case files yet again, since she had nothing better to do, and sat looking at the photo of the girl. She was beautiful, with long red hair and haunting eyes. Hulda had sometimes wondered – against her better judgement, of course – whether she could read any clue in that unfathomable gaze. This was a girl who had gone on a voyage of self-discovery, far from friends and family, only to vanish without trace.
Then suddenly it was Dimma’s gaze she was seeing. It used to be so bright and innocent, but since she’d entered her teens, her blue eyes had been shadowed with sadness.
Hulda was too distracted to concentrate. Her thoughts kept returning to the situation at home, feeling Dimma’s pain, unable to understand how Jón could be so calm about things. She knew he was intending to have a lie-in for once, so she had promised herself not to ring too early. But it was nearly eleven and there was no reason to think he’d still be asleep. It wasn’t a luxury he usually allowed himself, workaholic that he was. She picked up the receiver to call, then, abruptly changing her mind, rose to her feet. She would take her lunch break early instead.
There was a nip in the air outside, but the snow that had fallen on St Thorlákur’s Mass had been washed away and the ground was bare, making it feel autumnal rather than wintry. This was just as well since there were few ploughs out on high days and holidays, and reliable though her Skoda was, she didn’t trust it in heavy snow. Usually, Hulda hated snowless Christmases, finding them dark and dreary without the white backdrop to reflect the fleeting winter daylight, but today she had no thoughts for anything but her daughter.
Her drive was the same, day in, day out, the ten or so kilometres from the police station in Kópavogur to their house on the Álftanes peninsula, but today she drove like an automaton, totally unaware of her surroundings. All her thoughts were concentrated on the problems at home. As she approached their dear old house, with the sea stretching out flat and grey beyond it, she realized that of course she should never have gone to work. She should have called in sick. After all, it was true that she was in no state to be on duty. As she thought this, she was overwhelmed by a wave of unease so powerful that it almost frightened her.
She parked the car in front of the garage and walked quickly to the house, obeying a sudden, inexplicable need to hurry. She was almost panting in her haste to get inside and see Jón and Dimma. This time she wasn’t going to put up with any nonsense: Dimma would have to come out of her room and talk to them – her behaviour was totally unacceptable. Hulda was determined to make a last-ditch attempt to get their family life back on track. She rang the bell but there was no answer, then knocked, but nothing happened. She started rummaging in her coat pocket for the bunch of keys, but it took her longer than usual to find them. She was all fingers and thumbs once she finally got them out and tried to insert the front door key into the lock. At last she succeeded and burst into the house, only to come face to face with Jón, who was standing awkwardly in the hall.
‘Sorry, I fell asleep again. That’s why it took me so long to come to the door. I must have been out like a light. I woke when you left this morning, then went back to bed with a book. Don’t know what came over me; I don’t usually sleep that long.’ He smiled, blinking blearily. ‘I must just be knackered after the last few months – all that backbreaking work and now the problems with Dimma.’
‘You need to be careful, Jón. You’ve got to look after your heart. Remember what the doctor said. You are taking your pills, aren’t you?’
‘Of course. I’m not taking any risks.’
‘And … and…’ She braced herself for the answer she dreaded. ‘Is Dimma awake? Has she come out of her room?’
Jón shook his head. ‘No, as far as I know, she’s still asleep.’
‘Haven’t you tried to wake her?’
He hesitated. ‘No, I haven’t had a chance. Besides, it’s a holiday. And our attempts to talk to her yesterday evening weren’t exactly a success. She just needs some time, poor kid.’
Hulda came further inside without bothering to take off her shoes and coat. ‘No, this has gone far enough, Jón.’
‘What
