activity. In 2005 NCIS had effectively been scrapped in order to rise again as an organization called The National Unit for the Prevention of Organized and Other Serious Crime. The objections to the new name were vociferous. The acronym would have been TNUFPOOAOSC, which a number of people pointed out sounded like an onomatopoeic expression for vomiting. The members of the team won in the end, and NCIS was able to look forward to its golden jubilee in February 2009 under its old familiar name.
But the work they did had changed, and it remained that way in accordance with the name that had been rejected.
The police forces around the country had become bigger, stronger and much more competent. The great paradox when it came to combating crime was that an increase in the amount and professionalism of criminality led to a larger and more skilled police force. As more murder cases occurred in even the smaller police districts, the officers involved became more skilful. They could manage on their own. At least when it came to the tactical aspects of the investigation.
Adam put his mouth right next to Johanne’s ear.
‘Because I’m so good.’
She smiled in spite of herself.
‘And besides, there’s going to be a hell of a lot of fuss about this one,’ he added with a yawn. ‘I assume they’re pretty worried over there. And if they want me, they can have me.’
He stood up and looked despondently around the room.
‘Shall we tackle the worst of it?’
Johanne shook her head.
‘What was she doing outside?’ she said slowly.
‘What?’
‘What on earth was she doing out on the streets, so late on Christmas Eve?’
‘No idea. On the way to a friend’s, maybe.’
‘But-’
‘Johanne. It’s late. I know virtually nothing about this case, apart from the fact that I have to set off for Bergen far too early in the morning. It’s pointless to speculate based on the minimal information we have. You know that perfectly well. Let’s tidy up and go to bed.’
‘Bed,’ said Johanne, getting to her feet.
She went into the kitchen, picked up a bottle of mineral water and decided to take the newspaper supplement to bed. She would deal with tomorrow when it arrived.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Adam when she suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the floor, seemingly incapable of moving one way or the other.
‘I just felt so terribly… sad.’
She looked up, her expression surprised.
‘It’s natural for you to feel sad,’ said Adam, placing his hand on her cheek.
‘Not really. I’m not usually affected… I
Adam smiled and kissed her gently.
‘If there’s one thing you and I both know,’ he said, taking her hands, ‘it’s that good people are murdered too. Come on.’
It was a sleepless night. When the day finally claimed her, Johanne had read the article about Bishop Eva Karin Lysgaard so many times she knew it off by heart.
And it didn’t help in the slightest.
A Man
Nothing helped.
Nothing would ever help. They had offered to stay with him, of course. As if they were what he needed. As if life would be bearable again for one moment if strangers sat with him, in her armchair, the shabby, yellow armchair at an angle in front of the TV, a half-finished piece of knitting in a basket beside it.
They had asked if he had someone.
Once upon a time he had someone. A few hours ago he had Eva Karin. All his life he had had Eva Karin, and now he had no one.
Your son, they reminded him. They asked about his son. Did he want to tell his son or should they take care of things? That was how she put it, the woman who sat down on Eva Karin’s chair. Take care of things. As if it was a thing. As if there was anything else to take care of.
He felt no pain.
Pain was something that hurt. Pain hurt. All he could feel was the absence of existence. An empty space that made him look at his own hands as if they belonged to someone else. He clenched his right hand so tightly that the nails dug into his palm. There was no pain anywhere, no existence, just a huge, colourless nothingness where Eva Karin no longer existed. Even God had abandoned him, he realized now.
Time had stopped.
Her watch had stopped. She shook her wrist crossly and realized she was much later than she wanted to be. She had to get the children inside and in their best clothes without Kristiane playing up.
She went over to the window.
In the courtyard in front of the house, behind the fence on Hauges Vei, Ragnhild and Kristiane had scraped together enough rime frost to build the smallest snowman in the world. It was no more than ten centimetres high, but even from the second floor Johanne could see that it had been kitted out with a yellow oak-leaf hat and a mouth of tiny pebbles.
Johanne folded her arms and leaned on the window frame. As usual Ragnhild was directing operations and taking care of the construction. Kristiane was standing up straight, completely motionless. Although Johanne couldn’t make out the words, she could hear Ragnhild chattering away as if addressing the most spellbound audience in the world.
Perhaps she was.
Johanne smiled as Ragnhild suddenly got up from her small work of art and began to sing with great enthusiasm. Now Johanne could hear her voice inside the apartment.
A figure caught Johanne’s attention. It looked like a man, and she wasn’t sure where he had come from. Nor did it seem as if he was sure where he was going. For some reason this made her uneasy. Of course, there were youngsters in the area who turned up out of nowhere from time to time, but if she saw adults walking the streets they were always heading somewhere with a purpose. She recognized most of them after living for so many years in this little side road.
The man was strolling along with his hands in his pockets. His hat was pulled down over his eyes and his tightly knotted scarf obscured the lower half of his face. But there was something about the way he walked that told her he wasn’t all that young.
Johanne shook her right arm again. Her watch still wasn’t working. It must be the battery. They were probably running late. She was about to turn away from the window when the man stopped by the bins.
By their bins.
Johanne felt the fear racing inside her, as always when she didn’t have full control over Kristiane. For a moment she stood there, not knowing whether she should run downstairs or stay where she was and see what happened. Without making a conscious decision, she stayed where she was.
Perhaps he called out to them.
