‘Looks like a Mitsubishi. I’ve always wanted one of those myself.’
Hulda was just reflecting that she was quite happy with her Skoda when she did a double-take and, glancing at the inspector, saw that he had been struck by the same thought, almost in the same instant.
‘What the hell!’ he said. ‘It can’t be…’
‘A white Mitsubishi off-roader. My God!’ Of course, they would have to confirm that it was the right licence number, but it couldn’t be a coincidence.
‘My God!’ Hulda repeated. ‘That’s the very last thing I was expecting.’
IV
For obvious reasons, Hulda had never got round to returning the phone message from the parents of the missing girl on Christmas Day. She hadn’t liked to disturb them that morning and at midday she had gone home, to be confronted by a scene of such unspeakable horror that her world had been turned upside down and she felt as if her life had effectively ended.
After the tragedy, it had naturally fallen to someone else to ring Unnur’s parents back, if anyone had ever actually bothered. Later, though, when she started paying attention to the news again, Hulda guessed what the phone call had been about. It had transpired that Unnur’s father had gone missing just before Christmas, without a word to his wife. His car had gone too. Hulda had been listening to the news in the distracted way she did everything these days, but this had caught her attention, since it had been her case. The father’s disappearance, following that of his daughter, had caused quite a stir. All the evidence suggested that he had deliberately walked out. There was no reason to suspect foul play and no other obvious explanation. Hulda had drawn her own conclusions and assumed that her colleagues had done the same: the only logical explanation was that the father had been responsible for his daughter’s death and that, unable to live with what he had done, he had taken his own life. The press hadn’t said this in as many words but speculation about the case had been quietly allowed to die down, as if by consensus that this was a family tragedy and it would be inappropriate to delve too deeply.
The police investigation had drawn a complete blank, as if the man had vanished off the face of the earth. Hulda had guessed he’d probably driven his car off a cliff, but, as she’d been on compassionate leave at the time, she hadn’t been party to the details of the case. At any rate, nothing had been seen or heard of him since.
Until now.
The father had driven off in a white Mitsubishi.
And now here they were, in the middle of nowhere, confronted with a car of that description.
‘It has to be the right vehicle, doesn’t it?’ Hulda asked aloud, though she already knew the answer.
‘Yes, it has to be. I got orders just after Christmas to keep an eye out for a white Mitsubishi – like all the other police stations in the country. I remember doing a circuit of the village, just in case, but I didn’t spot anything and nothing I’d heard led me to expect the man to turn up on my patch. I’ve had no reason to come out this way until now … What on earth could he have been doing out here?’
‘Well, that’s far from clear, but I suppose it could –’
The inspector broke in: ‘It has to be connected to his daughter, doesn’t it?’
Hulda stood still, staring at the car.
What in God’s name had Unnur’s father been doing here?
‘Yes, I think it must be,’ she said at last.
‘But she went missing on the other side of the country…’
‘Yes, she was last heard of just outside Selfoss, which is certainly a long way from here … I really don’t understand this.’
‘Me neither … And now I’m bound to get a rap over the knuckles for not having combed the area better at the time,’ said Jens gloomily, more to himself than to Hulda.
She didn’t have the patience to reassure him. Her mind was entirely focused on the case at hand. Or cases, perhaps? Because surely this must constitute a proper lead at last in relation to Unnur’s disappearance?
She scraped the snow off the windows and peered into the car, careful not to touch anything. Others would need to carry out a proper examination. But she was at least able to satisfy herself that there was no one inside. And there was nothing immediately obvious that could shed light on what had happened.
‘Do you think he could have been with the couple over Christmas?’ the inspector asked eventually.
Hulda thought about it. ‘It has to be a possibility, though I can’t begin to imagine why. But no one would have had any reason to come out this way, would they, except to visit them?’
‘No, absolutely none. That would suggest that he walked from here to the farm. It’s quite a hike, but not too difficult, as long as the visibility’s OK.’
‘Even if you don’t know the area?’
‘Yes, I’d say so. The road goes straight up to the head of the valley from here.’
‘But it would be easy to go astray if there was a blizzard, wouldn’t it?’
‘I should think so. There aren’t many landmarks to help you if you wander off the road, and there are plenty of old stories about travellers dying of exposure in these parts. Ghost stories, and so on. I wouldn’t want to be caught here on foot myself if a storm blew up, I can tell you.’
Hulda started walking back towards the police car, deep in thought, and the inspector followed.
She hauled herself up into the passenger seat and, once the inspector was behind the wheel, she said: ‘The man has to be around here somewhere … assuming this is his car. And I think we’ve pretty much established that he’s not at the farm, don’t you agree?’
‘He can’t possibly be there,’ Jens confirmed, then
