'I owe you nothing,' Sejer said, 'for the time being. If it turns out I've made a mistake, you'll get an apology. So far I haven't made a mistake.' Then, in a friendly voice, 'Did you know Jonas August?'
Brein jumped instantly. He had not meant to, he knew he had to be strong to save himself, but the boy's name rang like a bell in his ears and he shuddered. The room they were in was white, bare and windowless. The table, which separated them, had yellowed with age and the varnish had started to peel. There was something shabby about the furniture, as though it had been bought from some second-hand shop. On the ceiling a fluorescent tube cast a garish light over the stone floor. A camera had been placed in a corner of the ceiling. The lens followed him like an evil, foreboding eye. Sejer repeated his question.
'Did you know Jonas August?'
'I think you need to explain why I'm here,' Brein said again.
'You have no idea why you've been arrested?'
'No. I mean, come on. You can't just pick up people and put them in a cell like this,' he complained.
'Yes,' Sejer said, 'we can and I'm happy to get straight to the point. Let's not waste time; after all, you're hungry. This is about Jonas August Lowe. He was found on the fourth of September up at Linde Forest. The forensic pathologist has established that he was subjected to a violent attack, which caused his death, and we can link you to the crime with irrefutable evidence. Did you know him?'
Brein shook his head in disbelief. He was still unable to grasp the situation. Sejer's confidence frightened him, his composure and authority were menacing.
'Irrefutable evidence?' he stammered. 'No, I don't believe that.'
'DNA,' Sejer explained.
Brein rummaged around his memory feverishly, but he failed to see the connection.
'I haven't given you a sample,' he said. 'You're trying to entrap me.'
'You're already trapped. And if you're interested in telling your side of the story, then now is your chance. It's your best option. Jonas August didn't have that chance.'
Brein shook his head again. 'This is some sort of trick.'
'No,' Sejer said, 'it's very simple.' He changed tack. 'Did you know him?'
'I didn't kill those boys,' Brein said.
'I didn't say you had.'
'But that's what you're thinking. You think that I killed Jonas and Edwin, but I didn't!'
'We want to make sure we find out what really happened,' Sejer said. 'In order for us to do that, you need to work with us.'
'All right. But then you have to believe me, because I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know Jonas,' he said. 'I had only seen him a few times walking along the road, a little lad with skinny legs and trousers that were too big for him.'
He started digging a nail into a dent in the table. While he talked he avoided meeting Sejer's scrutinising eyes.
'I can't deny that I've been driving around looking at the kids,' he said, 'and pay attention to what I said. Looking at them, that's all. I know what you're thinking, but you're completely wrong.'
'You know nothing about what I think,' Sejer said. 'Go on.'
'I can't help that I'm attracted to children,' Brein said. 'I've always been like that. But I was too scared to tell anyone – you probably know this already. So I kept it all to myself, and that was very hard. It was a lot to handle for a small boy, because I was only ten when I started to have these feelings. There was a boy at the farm next to ours, and I was in love with him, he was only six, and I didn't know what to do with myself when he was around. I was all over the place.'
'So what did you do?' Sejer asked.
'I would watch him in secret,' he said. 'I would dream and fantasise. Needs must.'
'So you prefer boys?'
'Yes,' Brein said. 'Boys. I like their small bodies and their delicate limbs. I like that they are frightened and shy, I like everything about them, I like the smell and the sound and the taste of them.' He was growing more animated, his cheeks were gaining colour.
'How do they taste?' Sejer wanted to know. His face was deathly serious.
'Well, what can I say?' He shook his head. 'Like green apples.'
His words were followed by silence. The only noise was a low humming from the fluorescent tube on the ceiling.
'Can I smoke in here?' he asked hopefully.
'No.'
Sejer's reply was followed by another silence and Sejer waited. It would take time to uncover the truth, but he did not mind because he wanted to know. He wanted to map the crime down to the smallest detail. He wanted to measure and weigh it, turn and twist it, view it from every possible angle. His heart was beating calmly. He felt in control, in here he reigned supreme, in here he was, as Skarre put it, the man who could charm the birds off a tree.
'Were there any episodes you found particularly difficult when you were growing up?' he asked. 'It's quite all right to talk about such things.'
Brein gave him a despondent look. 'Everything was difficult,' he said. 'It was when I entered my teens that the trouble really started. Isn't it about time you got yourself a girlfriend, young man? You know what aunts and uncles are like.'
'I do.'
'So, of course, I was isolated,' Brein went on. 'I didn't fit in. I spent a lot of time on my own. Besides, I felt deeply ashamed about it all. People can't be serious when they tell us we need to come forward with our feelings, they've no idea how bad it is.'
'Yes,' Sejer said. 'I have an idea how bad it is.'
'I can only dream about what the rest of you take for granted,' Brein said.
'No one can take love for granted,' Sejer corrected him.
'No?'
'The world is full of people who watch the happiness of others from the sidelines.'
Brein rolled his eyes. 'Look around you,' he snorted. 'There are couples everywhere, walking down the street wrapped around each other; I can hardly bear to look at them.'
'Many walk alone,' Sejer countered. 'You're not the only one who is single. But perhaps you harbour an illusion that everyone else is granted everything their heart desires. It's not like that. What was your childhood like?'
'It was bad,' Brein said bitterly. 'And I don't mean to make excuses for myself, but it's only right that someone should know how bad it was. Perhaps you think my parents used to beat me, but they never raised a hand to me, it was far worse. There was coldness and hostility. My mum was always angry, it poured out of her in one constant, nagging stream. And she made so much noise, she slammed doors, she stomped around the house, her backside was the size of a rhinoceros. And she had a bizarre notion that you should always tell the truth, because she didn't want to be two-faced. So she always spoke her mind. It was the truth at all costs, in every situation. The truth in the shop, the truth across the fence to the neighbour, to door-to-door salesmen and to me. That I wasn't much to look at, that I wasn't all that bright. She scolded me and my dad. He would jump at the smallest chance to get out of the house. He would invent errands because he couldn't cope with her ranting. And they looked odd, the pair of them. Mum's build was coarse, loud and masculine, while dad was delicate and effeminate. It was like something was always brewing in the house, if you get my drift. And sometimes she would lock me out. I mean if I came home late, if she had told me a time and I had missed it, then I had to sit on the doorstep until she deigned to let me in. She would look at me, feign surprise and say, what are you doing out here? One winter, I actually froze to the top step. Another time I gave up thinking she would let me in at all, so I went down to the cellar. I spent the night there on some old sacks.' He let his hands flop helplessly. 'That was tough for a small boy.'
'Is she still alive?' Sejer asked.
'She got cancer,' he said. 'Her body was riddled with it, tumours everywhere. One of them was in the corner of her eye, it was pressing on her eye, it was disgusting. It looked like it might explode at any time. I didn't know where to look. You might say she was being punished for her neglect and betrayal, because she lay there for over
