‘Well, isn’t it about time we started making tracks?’ Jens asked, without haste. It was already past eight, more than an hour since Hulda had been woken by his phone call. At that moment she heard the phone ringing in reception and had a sinking feeling that it might be for them.
She nodded, although she felt an extreme reluctance to return to the crime scene after learning of this latest development. ‘Yes, I suppose we should get moving. Have they started the search for Haukur Leó yet?’
‘I reckon they must have. No doubt they’re still digging at the farmhouse as well.’
‘Excuse me, Jens. Phone call for you,’ said the owner of the guesthouse, who had crept up behind them without their noticing.
‘For me?’ Jens scraped his chair back noisily and got to his feet. Hulda remained seated but could hear the sound of his voice in reception.
He came almost straight back.
‘They’ve found a body, behind the house,’ he announced.
Hulda didn’t say a word. She already knew what was coming next.
‘They think it’s the missing girl, Unnur.’
Hulda was hit by a wave of despair.
She had been staking everything on the hope that she could somehow save Unnur, though subconsciously she must have known all along that this was nothing but a fantasy. Yet, despite that, the news felt almost like a nightmare repeat of what had happened at Christmas.
Someone had murdered Unnur, Hulda was sure of it, but she had a hunch that whoever had done it had already paid the price.
When Hulda and Jens arrived at the farm, they learned that the initial examination of the girl’s remains had uncovered evidence of injuries consistent with a violent death.
There had been no let-up in the snow and, if anything, the wind was even stronger, making it impossible to stand around outside for long.
The house seemed different in the morning light but, despite the cold, Hulda felt a deep reluctance to go back inside if she could possibly avoid it. She had been shown the remains and the shallow grave, the soil creating a dirty stain on the surrounding snow. The body had now been taken into the house to protect it from the elements.
So Unnur had been lying all these months in an unmarked grave, in a place where it would never in a million years have occurred to anyone to look for her.
Hulda wondered if she could have done anything different during the investigation last autumn. Were there stones she had failed to turn over that could have put her on the trail? Or had the whole thing been futile all along because the girl had already been dead by the time the inquiry began?
She reminded herself that there must have been some clue she had missed, though, since Unnur’s father had found his way here.
How in God’s name had he known?
Hulda wondered if he could have been involved somehow in her death. It was all she could think of at this stage.
‘This just keeps getting worse and worse. I’ve never known anything like it,’ Jens muttered as they thawed out in the police car. He sighed heavily. ‘On my patch too.’
The doctor who had arrived with the ambulance had told them that, in his professional opinion, the girl couldn’t possibly have died at the same time as the couple. Her death must have occurred weeks, if not months, earlier. They should be able to establish a more accurate time-frame after further analysis. For the moment, then, Hulda had ruled out a scenario in which Haukur Leó had murdered all three: Einar, Erla and his own daughter. The idea was absurd anyway since, logically, he must have come here searching for her.
Hulda also had to factor in the spade that had been found abandoned in the vegetable patch behind the house. Someone had plainly been trying unsuccessfully to dig there, but the spade alone would have made little impact on the frozen ground.
A story was slowly taking shape in her mind. Unnur, who had been planning to spend a year travelling around Iceland, must have stumbled upon this remote farm, with no suspicion of anything other than a pleasant stay. Hulda recalled what Inspector Jens had said about the couple sometimes taking in young people who worked in return for board and lodging. For some unknown reason, her visit had come to a tragic end.
‘The poor girl,’ Hulda said at last, after a long silence.
‘He was looking for her, wasn’t he? The man in the Mitsubishi. Looking for his daughter…?’
Hulda nodded.
‘And the result was a bloodbath.’
‘Perhaps the couple refused to tell him where she was,’ Hulda conjectured, ‘or…’ She trailed off, thinking, then went on, speaking more to herself than Jens: ‘Perhaps they admitted that they’d killed his daughter and told him where she was … It’s impossible to predict how someone would react to news like that. You know, Jens, even perfectly ordinary people can … can lose control of themselves in extraordinary circumstances like that.’
XVI
‘Erla, you’ve got to tell me what happened to her,’ Leó said, and she could hear the fear and desperation in his voice.
Yet Erla was the one who ought to have been afraid, who was deeply afraid.
‘What … what…?’ She couldn’t seem to articulate the words, couldn’t even shape a coherent thought in her head. The cursed mist that lay over her mind made it impossible to think straight.
‘You know what I’m talking about, Erla. This has got to stop! I’ve got to find her! You must, you have to tell me, Erla!’
She just stood there, her body rigid. When he released his grip, she backed a few steps away but knew she was helpless, cornered like a caged animal.
‘It … it spun out of
