I'm Travelling Alone (38 page)

He turned to Kim.

‘Would you organize that? Interviews with all staff members?’

Kim nodded.

‘I’m going to need some sleep soon,’ Mia mumbled.

‘Go home, I’ll keep you informed.’

‘You need some sleep yourself.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Munch said cantankerously.

‘So do you want us to pack up?’ the short man said.

‘No,’ Mia said.

‘Why not?’

‘Something is missing. She has a place where she hides things.’

‘We’ve already searched the whole place,’ the short man said, a little vexed, and in a tone which suggested that they knew how to do their job.

Mia didn’t have the energy to be polite, she was too tired now.

‘The lenses,’ she said.

‘Eh?’

‘Her lenses. She wore contact lenses. If she left behind make-up and clothes, she would also have kept lenses here.’

‘How do you know that she wears contact lenses?’ the short police officer said.

Mia could feel herself starting lose patience with him.

‘When I saw her, she had blue eyes. Others have seen her with different-coloured eyes. There must be contact lenses here somewhere. If she’s hidden them, we might find something else as well.’

‘But we’ve searched—’ the short man began.

‘Search harder!’ Munch barked.

‘But where?’

‘Contact lenses must be kept in a cool place,’ Mia said. ‘Check the mirrors.’

‘But …’

‘Start in the bathroom,’ Mia said. ‘That’s the place where people keep their contact lenses, isn’t it? Try pushing the mirrors, push the damned mirrors.’

Mia got up and, for a second, she blacked out. Her legs buckled underneath her, but Kim managed to grab her before she hit the floor.

‘Mia?’

‘Mia, are you OK?’

Mia came round and straightened up. She hated looking weak. Not in front of her colleagues. Damn.

‘I’m fine. I just need some sleep and some food. Call me, OK?’

She stumbled towards the door, and felt much better the moment she reached the stairwell. A flat full of mirrors. Every wall from floor to ceiling, nothing but mirrors; who the hell did that?

Mia Krüger staggered down the stairs and got one of the police officers to drive her home. ‘Home ‘was an exaggeration. What sort of home was this? It wasn’t a home. She didn’t have a home. She was staying in a hotel in Oslo, she had her belongings in storage and she owned a house on Hitra. That was who she was now. A nobody. That explained why seeing herself reflected in the mirrors had been so painful.

She fell face down on the bed and slept with her clothes on.

Chapter 61

‘Mummy, what are you doing?’

Marion Munch looked across to her mother, who was sitting on the sofa by the window. Miriam had been told to keep the curtain closed at all times, but she couldn’t take the isolation any longer. She just had to sneak a peek, reassure herself that the world outside existed.

‘I’m just having a look, darling. Why are you not in bed?’

Marion padded over to her mother and snuggled up on her lap.

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘You need your sleep, you know,’ Miriam Munch said, stroking her daughter’s hair.

‘I know, but surely I can’t sleep unless I’m asleep?’ the little girl said, tilting her head slightly.

‘It’s called falling asleep for a reason, darling,’ Miriam said with a little smile.

Her daughter had become rather precocious and argumentative recently. Miriam had been given a reminder of what she had been like when she was little. Stubborn and headstrong. Old for her age. She sighed, and closed the curtains again. She had blocked out much of her childhood. After her parents had split up, part of it seemed to have disappeared, as if it had all been built on a lie. Her parents were divorcing. She remembered being fifteen and starting to have her doubts about them. She thought that they must have been lying to her for a long time. But that was all in the past now. She had been angry. Very angry. Mostly at her father. Holger Munch, the homicide investigator. For years she had been proud of him.
My dad is a police officer. He’ll put your dad in prison if he does something bad.
But he had hurt her. He had pushed her mother into the arms of another man. A man Miriam had never really learned to like. She was older now, but it still gnawed at her. They had been so close, the two of them. She and her father. She should have resolved it a long time ago. Gone to him and said,
Sorry, Dad, I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time
, but she had been unable to. Stubborn and headstrong. She was starting to feel that the time had come. Soon. Soon, she would talk to him.

‘Yes, but then you have to tell me to, Mum.’

‘OK, Marion, go to your bedroom and fall asleep, can you do that?’

‘But it’s so hard,’ the little blonde girl objected. ‘I keep thinking about DracuLaura and Frankie Stein. They’re at home alone.’

The dolls her father had bought Marion recently.

‘Oh, they’ll be fine.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I spoke to Daddy just now and he said that they were both fine. He says they send their love.’

Marion looked sly.

‘I think you’re lying, Mum.’

‘Me, lying, no, why do you say that?’ Miriam smiled.

‘Dolls can’t talk.’

‘They talk when you play with them.’

‘Oh, Mum, that’s my voice, didn’t you know?’

‘Is it?’ Miriam said, feigning surprise. ‘Your voice? I thought they could talk.’

Marion giggled.

‘Sometimes it’s very easy to trick you, Mummy.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Do you trick me a lot?’

‘Yes, I guess I do.’

Marion reached for the blanket lying on the sofa and covered herself with it. She rested her head against her mother’s chest. Miriam could feel her little heartbeat against her jumper.

‘So when do you trick your mum?’

‘When I say that I’ve cleaned my teeth.’

‘But you haven’t cleaned them?’

‘Yes, but not very well.’

‘So when I ask you, did you brush your teeth properly, then you haven’t?’

‘No.’ The little girl giggled again.

‘So how did you clean them?’

‘Quite well, sort of.’

Miriam smiled again and stroked her daughter’s blonde hair.

‘I think you’ll need a haircut soon.’

‘You mean go to the hairdresser’s?’

Miriam nodded.

‘Oh, yes, please! Can we do that tomorrow?’

‘No, not tomorrow. When we get home.’

‘When will we get home?’

Her daughter looked at her with almost pleading eyes.

‘I don’t know, sweetheart. When Grandad says we can.’

‘Will we get a new house when we get home?’

Miriam looked quizzically at her daughter. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Like, move that bus!’

‘Move that bus? What on earth are you talking about, Marion?’

‘Oh, you know. When people on TV have a bad house and then they have to go away while someone builds them a new house, and then they come back, and then there is a bus parked outside and everyone shouts, ìMove that bus!î And then there’s a lovely new house behind it and everybody starts to cheer and cry. I want a room that’s all pink with a princess bed. Can I have that?’

‘A princess bed?’

‘Aha?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see. When did you watch that?’

‘With Grandad.’

‘You and Grandad watched
Extreme Makeover
?’

‘Oh, I don’t know what it was called, Mum.’

Miriam had made it very clear which television programmes were permitted when her father had Marion to stay, but it had clearly fallen on deaf ears. Did her father really watch that kind of television? She found it hard to imagine.

‘What other programmes do you and Grandad watch?’

‘Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Drinking Coke and watching television is our little secret, you understand that, Mummy. Mine and Grandad’s. And you’re not supposed to share a secret, that’s what the law says.’

‘Quite so, no, you’re not supposed to tell anyone.’

Marion rubbed her face against her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. Her thumb was inching its way towards her mouth, but she stopped herself and returned it to her tummy. Good girl. They had spent ages trying to make her stop sucking her thumb. It hadn’t been easy. But now it looked like she was succeeding. Miriam tucked the blanket close around her daughter and held her tight.

‘Mum?’

‘I thought you were falling asleep?’

‘I can’t fall asleep when I’m talking,’ Marion said, precocious once more.

‘No, obviously not.’ Miriam laughed.

It was a mistake, no doubt about it. Laughing. Reacting would merely encourage her, but Miriam couldn’t help it. To be quite honest, she liked her daughter being awake. The flat was silent and empty when she slept.

‘What did you want to ask me?’

‘Why isn’t Daddy here?’

Miriam didn’t quite know what to say. For security reasons, Johannes did not know where they were. If the killer was capable of hanging little girls from trees, he or she would also be able to extract from him where they were hiding. She thought of her fiancé and felt warm all over. Her father had been adamant: the wedding must be cancelled and, even though she had argued her hardest, she had complied at the end. Her feelings said no, but her common sense knew better. They couldn’t fill a church with family and friends right now. It would be irresponsible. No one would benefit. Not now that Marion was number five.

Tick-tock, little Marion is number five.

Her father had been incredibly angry with Mia, but Miriam was grateful for knowing. Better to know what they were talking about than live in ignorance.

‘Why don’t you say something, Mum?’

‘Daddy is at work, but he loves you very much, he told me to tell you that.’

‘Did you speak to him on the phone?’

‘Yes, just now.’

‘Oh, why didn’t I get to talk to him?’

‘Because you were asleep.’

‘But I wasn’t asleep.’

‘I thought you were.’

‘That’s not the same thing, Mum. Next time you have to check, you really must, this won’t do.’

Miriam smiled again.

‘I will, sweetheart. I will.’

‘Good,’ Marion said.

The little girl threw aside the blanket and got up.

‘I think I’m ready to go to bed now.’

‘That sounds good, Marion. Would you like me to walk you upstairs?’

‘I’m not a baby any more.’ Marion yawned. ‘I know perfectly well where it is.’

Miriam smiled.

‘Clever girl. Give your mum a good-night hug then.’

The little girl bent down and gave her mother a long hug.

‘Remember that my room must be pink with a princess bed. “Move that bus!”’

‘I’ll let them know.’ Miriam smiled again and gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

‘Night night.’

‘Night night.’

Her daughter skipped across the floor in her nightdress, and up the stairs. Miriam got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She heard her mobile beep and ran back to check who it was.

Sorry, Miriam, but we have to move you again tonight. Something has happened, will explain later. Am sending someone to fetch you now. OK? M.

Damn, now? Marion had only just gone back to bed. Oh, well. Her daughter was still light enough to be carried. Something had happened. What could it be? She replied:

OKJ<

She went out into the hallway and found the suitcase. She hadn’t packed much. A few changes of clothing for both of them. Toiletries. The bare essentials. It took only ten minutes to pack everything. She took the mug of tea with her from the kitchen and sat down on the sofa again. She wondered where they were going this time. The first flat had been small, no television, just one room, something which had driven her a little crazy, claustrophobic. This one was much bigger and furnished luxuriously. She believed it was used for visiting VIPs who didn’t want to be seen. Very anonymous. Perfect for keeping nosy journalists at bay. Like her. Was that why she had dropped out of journalism college? Because being a journalist wasn’t good enough? Because she would rather do something more useful? Help people? No, that wasn’t it. There was nothing wrong with being a journalist; she didn’t know where that idea had come from. There were different kinds of journalists, just as there were different kinds of teachers and police officers. Some journalists wrote about celebrities. Others uncovered injustices. That was the kind of journalist Miriam had wanted to be. To fight for something. Use her brains to enlighten people, rather than dull their minds with lists of who was best dressed and what celebrities ate for Christmas.

She had just finished her tea when the doorbell rang. Miriam jumped up and pressed the intercom.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, are you ready?’

‘I’m ready. Just come up.’

She pressed the buzzer and put on her shoes. Went to the suitcase in the hallway and put on her jacket. She hoped that Marion wouldn’t wake up during the car journey. She would be crotchety and perhaps wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep again.

There was a soft knock on the door. No door bell. What a considerate police officer, Miriam thought, aware that a child is asleep here. She went to open the door. There was someone outside. Wearing a kind of mask. And a wig. She had no time to react. The figure pressed a cloth into her face. She heard the words:

‘Night night.’

And she was out cold

Chapter 62

Mia Krüger was sitting at a table by the window in Kaffebrenneriet, trying to force herself to wake up. She had passed out on the bed in her hotel bedroom, having set the alarm first, as she felt too guilty to allow herself more than a few hours’ sleep, but her body disagreed; it wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, crawl under the duvet, carry on dreaming.

She strangled a yawn and called Kim Kolsø.

‘Yes? Kim speaking.’

‘Did we get anything from the care-home staff?’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘No one knew her very well. Malin Stoltz would appear to have kept herself mostly to herself.’