I'm Travelling Alone (39 page)

‘Are you still up there?’

‘No, we’re coming back to town now. We need to contact any members of staff who weren’t at work today. See if we can get anything from them.’

‘Keep me informed, will you?’

‘Will do.’

Mia strangled another yawn and went up to order another coffee. It was the only way she could jumpstart herself. Coffee. And plenty of it. To get her head in gear again. Her body going. She had dreamt about a maze of mirrors and been unable to find her way out; she had felt utterly confused and trapped, and the feeling still weighed her down. She ordered a double espresso and was about to carry it back to her seat by the window when she noticed two women absorbed in an intimate, but rather loud, conversation at a table close to the counter.

She could not avoid overhearing what they were talking about.

‘So we tried everything, but it didn’t work,’ one of them said.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Was it you or your husband who couldn’t have them?’ the other one said.

‘They never found out,’ the first woman said.

‘How awful for you,’ the second woman said.

‘Yes, if it hadn’t been for the support group, I would never have got over it. As for him, well, he just refused to talk about it,’ the first woman said.

‘Have you thought about adoption?’ the second woman said.

‘I really want to, but he, well, I don’t think that he does. I can’t make him talk about that either.’

‘How stupid. Surely helping a child with no parents benefits everyone? It’s a win-win.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I said, but he …’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mia said, walking up to them. ‘I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.’

The two women stared at her.

‘A support group?’ Mia asked. ‘What kind of support group were you talking about?’

The first woman looked a little offended, but she replied nevertheless.

‘A support group for women who can’t have children. Why do you want to know?’

‘I have a friend …’ Mia began, but changed her mind. ‘I … I can’t have children, sadly.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the first woman said, her attitude changing. she was no longer offended: Mia was a fellow club member; they were playing for the same team.

‘Was that here in Oslo?’ Mia continued.

‘Yes, in Bøler,’ the woman nodded.

‘Are there many of them around?’ Mia wanted to know.

‘Yes, they’re everywhere. Where do you live?’

‘Thank you so much,’ Mia said. ‘I’ll look for one.’

‘You’re welcome,’ the woman said. ‘Have you thought about adoption?’

‘I’m thinking about it,’ Mia said, picking up her coffee from the counter. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘We need to stick together.’ The woman winked at her.

‘Yes, we do.’

Mia winked back at her and carefully carried her coffee back to her table, just as her mobile rang.

‘Yes? Mia speaking.’

‘It’s Ludvig. Are you busy?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve got something. On the church.’

‘What is it?’

‘We investigated them some years ago. Hvelven Care Centre in Hønefoss made a complaint.’

‘Go on?’

‘Looks like the church has done this before. Persuaded old people to leave them their money.’

‘In Hønefoss?’

‘Yes, three cases. None of them went to court; they were resolved through mediation.’

A care home in Hønefoss. The care home in Høvik. There had to be a link.

‘Can you get me the names of all staff working there during the timeframe we’re talking about?’

‘It’s on its way,’ Ludvig said.

‘Can you check another thing for me?’

‘Aha?’

‘Can you check if there was a support group for childless people in Hønefoss in the period before the baby disappeared?’

‘Of course I can. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning, when everything opens again.’

‘Super. Any news about Malin Stoltz?’

‘Still missing without a trace.’

‘We’ll find her.’

‘If anyone can do it, it’s you,’ Ludvig said.

‘Thank you, Ludvig.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

Mia ended the call, knocked back her coffee in one gulp, put on her leather jacket and left the room with a smile on her lips.

Chapter 63

Mia Krüger could only feel sorry for Holger Munch as he sat in the seat next to her while they drove to the chapel in Bøler. They had worked together on countless cases, but she didn’t remember ever seeing him so burdened. He drove in silence with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, staring vacantly through the windscreen with an empty, almost resigned expression. The pressure lay like a heavy cloak on top of the otherwise unruffled detective. This case had reached deep inside his private life. He was involved. Threats had been made against little Marion. Malin Stoltz had clearly managed to rattle Holger Munch to such an extent that he was no longer thinking straight.

‘Nothing from the care home?’ she asked in a calm voice.

Munch shook his head grimly.

‘It looks as if Malin Stoltz lived two lives,’ he added. ‘People knew her at work, but no one had any contact with her outside of it.’

‘Did you manage to talk to your mother?’

Mia knew that this was a sensitive question, but it had to be asked; they had more important priorities now.

Munch nodded.

‘The man who heads the church is some plonker by the name Pastor Simon.’

Munch just about managed to utter the name, Mia noticed. He seemed shaken to the core. Perhaps Anette had been right after all. Perhaps he should have been taken off the case. At this moment in time, she was inclined to agree with her.

‘That was all? No surname?’

Munch sighed and shook his head.

‘Pastor Simon, that was all. I’ve asked Gabriel to see if he can find out any more about him.’

‘And this Lukas Walner? Did she know who he was?’

Munch nodded.

‘I believe he’s this Simon’s assistant.’

‘And you’ve seen them both?’

Mia knew this wasn’t a question Munch wanted to hear either, but it had to be asked.

‘From a distance, yes,’ Munch replied briefly, and opened the window.

He tossed his cigarette out and lit a new one just as they arrived at the white chapel. If Mia hadn’t known where they were going, she wouldn’t have picked this as the building they were looking for. From the outside, there was nothing to suggest that it was a place of worship. It looked like a Scout hut or some other anonymous, public facility. It wasn’t until they had walked through the gate and reached the door that she could see that they had indeed come to the right venue. A small sign beside the front door said ‘Methuselah Church’, and above it there was a small crucifix. The place seemed deserted. The door was locked, and she could see no signs of activity anywhere.

Munch walked down the steps and along a gravel path which led to the back of the building. Mia was about to follow him when her mobile rang. She briefly considered ignoring it; given the state Munch was in, she really didn’t want to let him out of her sight, but the whole unit was now on red alert, so she had to. She watched the back of his duffel coat disappear around the corner as she pressed the green button.

‘Yes? Mia here.’

‘Are you Mia Krüger?’

The voice was unfamiliar.

‘Yes, who am I talking to?’

‘You’re hard to track down.’ The voice let out a sigh.

‘Is that right? Who is this, please?’ Mia said.

‘I’m sorry if this is a bad time,’ said the man on the other end. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for a while but, like I said, it hasn’t been easy.’

Mia followed Munch around the corner and watched her colleague peer through a window.

‘And what is this about?’ Mia said impatiently.

‘My name is Albert Wold,’ the man continued. ‘I’m the Verger of Borre Church.’

Borre Church.

Her whole family was buried in its cemetery.

‘Go on,’ Mia said.

‘Like I said, I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ the verger continued.

‘Has anything happened?’

Munch moved away from the window and continued to walk around the white chapel.

‘Yes. We discovered it a week ago, and the whole thing seems very strange. We didn’t know what to do, apart from contacting you, obviously.’

‘And what has happened?’

‘One of your family graves has been desecrated,’ the verger said.

‘What?’ Mia said. ‘How?’

‘Well, that’s the odd thing,’ the man continued. ‘It would appear that the only grave affected is your sister’s.’

Mia Krüger stopped in her tracks and forgot all about keeping an eye on Munch.

‘Sigrid’s grave?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ the verger said sadly. ‘As far as we can see, none of the other graves has been touched.’

‘Desecrated. How?’

‘I don’t know how to tell you this,’ the man went on. ‘The whole business is really very unpleasant. Someone has deleted your sister’s name.’

‘Deleted it? What do you mean?’

‘With a can of spray paint. At first we thought it was just ordinary vandalism, it does happen, with these out-of-control teenagers we have here, but we soon noticed that this was different, what made it so odd.’

Mia glanced around for Munch, but she couldn’t see him anywhere.

‘What do you mean, different?’

‘Now it says your name instead.’

‘What?’

‘Someone has painted over Sigrid’s name and written yours instead.’

A wave of unease washed over Mia Krüger just as she saw Munch reappear from around the corner of the building. He gestured to her that they were going back to the car.

‘Would it possible for you to come up here?’ the verger asked.

Munch tapped his watch and waved irritably to her on his way to the Audi.

‘I’ll try to get there as soon as I can,’ Mia said, and ended the call.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Munch shouted out to her. ‘This place seems deserted. We have to issue descriptions of both Lukas and this pastor.’

‘Pardon?’ Mia responded, distracted.

Someone had been to Sigrid’s grave.

‘We have to issue a description,’ Munch said again, getting angrier. ‘We have to find these idiots and bring them in for questioning.’

Munch started the car and drove down Bogerudveien. Mia was contemplating telling Munch about the conversation she had just had when his mobile rang. The conversation lasted less than ten seconds. When he rang off, his face was, if possible, even whiter than it had been a moment ago.

‘What is it?’ Mia asked anxiously.

Munch was almost incapable of speech now. He could barely squeeze out the words between his lips.

‘It was the care home. My mother has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. I have to go there straight away.’

‘Oh, God!’ Mia exclaimed.

‘I’ll drop you off in the centre of town. You sort out the wanted notice.’

‘Of course.’ Mia nodded.

She searched for some way to show her sympathy, but found none.

Munch switched on the flashing blue light, hit the accelerator and sped towards the centre of Oslo.

Chapter 64

Emilie Isaksen was driving along Ringvollveien. She was new to this area, she had lived in Hønefoss less than twelve months, and it suddenly struck her that it might have been quicker to take Hadelandsveien and then go up the old Ringvollvei to reach her destination. Emilie Isaksen taught Norwegian and several of her pupils lived around here, a few kilometres outside the town centre. She shifted down to second gear and turned off on to Gjermundboveien.

Emilie Isaksen had known that she wanted to be a teacher from the moment she started sixth-form college. She had found work straight after completing her teacher training, and she had enjoyed her job from day one. Several of the teachers at the school had given her advice when she had first started, and they had meant well. How important it was to look after yourself, not take your work home with you, don’t get too close to the pupils, but that was not the way Emilie did things. And that explained why she was in her car now.

Tobias Iversen.

She had noticed him from the first lesson, a good-looking, gangly boy with alert eyes. But something was wrong. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was well liked, so popularity was not the issue. She had not grasped the problem initially, but it had come to her in time. His mother never came to Parents’ Evenings. Neither did his stepfather. They did not reply to letters. They did not answer their phone. She was, quite simply, unable to contact them. And then she had started noticing the bruises. To his face. His hands. She didn’t teach PE, so she had not seen his body, but she suspected that he was bruised all over. She had had a quick word with his PE teacher, but he was the old-fashioned type. Kids fall down and they get hurt. Especially unruly boys in Year Seven – what was she implying? She had tried questioning Tobias tactfully. Was he all right? How were things at home? Tobias had refused to open up, but she had seen it in his eyes. Something wasn’t right. There might be teachers who were prepared to overlook something like this, who didn’t want to get involved, the sanctity of the home, and all that, but Emilie Isaksen was not one of them.

Tobias hadn’t been at school for a week. She had tried calling his home, but there had been no reply. She had asked around, discreetly, and discovered that his younger brother hadn’t been to school either. She had spoken to the school counsellor, without mentioning any names, but asking for guidance. What was the policy? What action should she take? She had been given rather vague messages; no one had wanted to tell her exactly what to do unless she had proof. You had to tread carefully. Emilie Isaksen had heard it all before, but she refused to let herself be put off. What harm could a visit do? She just wanted to drop off some homework. Have a quick chat with his mother. Perhaps arrange a meeting with his parents? There was no reason why that meeting couldn’t take place in Tobias’s home if his mother found it difficult to leave the house. Unorthodox, perhaps, but she had made up her mind that it was worth the risk. She was going to be polite. She wasn’t going to accuse anyone of anything. She was only trying to help. It would be fine. Perhaps they had gone away on holiday without asking the school if they could take the boys out. Perhaps both boys were ill; there had been a spring bug going round the school, both among pupils and teachers. There could be so many reasons.