Farewell to Freedom (8 page)

Willumsen was standing in their office when she got back upstairs. Lars had filled him in about their visitor and was just explaining how the Albanians had kidnapped Pavlína and sent her back out onto the street after Miloš paid for her freedom.

“Shouldn't we move in as he hands over the money?” Louise asked, eyeing Willumsen.

Toft stopped on his way down the hall and leaned against the doorframe to listen in. He had one of those plastic nicotine inhalers in his mouth that he always used, a sorry substitute for the cigarettes he used to smoke until the ban on indoor smoking went into effect at police HQ. In the beginning Louise thought they were to help him quit smoking, but as time went by she realized they had nothing to do with smoking cessation. Her colleague had simply replaced his cigarettes with the nicotine from the inhaler so he wouldn't have to keep running outside every time he wanted to smoke.

Willumsen stroked his chin, lost in thought.

“So he thinks the two Albanians might have some connection to the woman we found? I don't think there's enough here for us to get involved yet,” Willumsen decided. “Instead, let's try to figure out what's going on and how big a network we're talking about. Try to get a sense of the organization the Albanians are part of so we're sure we wrap up the whole syndicate when we do strike.”

“Where was the girl living until the Serb bought her and she moved in with him?” Toft asked, stuffing his hands into the angled front pockets of his corduroy pants and looking at Louise.

“At one of the cheap hotels on one of the side streets off Istedgade,” she replied.

“Maybe we should do a round of the hotels in the area with a picture of our murdered woman and find out if anyone knew her?” Toft suggested.

Willumsen nodded to him. “Do that. If that doesn't give us any leads, we'll go back again after Rick and Jørgensen have talked to the Czech woman. Surely she can show us where she was staying,” he added.

“If she can recognize it. You hear about how these women are kept on such a short leash they never see anything other than the inside of the room they're kept locked in and the stretch of street where they earn money,” Toft interjected.

“We could also take a look at the Albanian club,” Lars suggested, but Willumsen waved off the idea.

“For now let's focus our attention on the Skelbækgade woman,” he decided. “Once we get through with that, you can look into this other situation.”

He lowered his hand again.

“I'm not ruling out a possible connection between the two. But I want to know who the dead woman is first, and until we have a name we're not going to get very far.”

And with that Willumsen adjourned the meeting and disappeared.

7

C
AMILLA HAD SPENT MOST OF THE DAY FOLLOWING UP ON HER
story about the baby abandoned in the church, even though she didn't make it into her office until after eleven.

Markus had woken up several times overnight with terrifying nightmares about her abandoning him and never coming back, and Camilla had no idea what time he had stumbled into her room with his blanket under his arm, sobbing. He lay down beside her, and she stroked his hair until he settled down again.

“If we'd left for school earlier, we might have seen the mother,” Markus said while they were eating breakfast. “And then we could have stopped it from happening.”

Camilla had tried to explain to him that there were many reasons why a mother might choose to leave her child.

“Maybe she did it for the sake of the child, because she knew she would never be able to give the little girl the life she thought the child ought to have. And that she would be better off if she were adopted by someone else.”

Camilla could see from Markus's expression that he didn't understand how it could be better for the little girl to wind up with strangers instead of her birth mother.

“You do know that it's very hard for a grown-up to be accepted as a foster parent—let alone an adoptive parent—don't you?” Camilla asked him. “You have to be approved so everyone is sure that you're suited to taking care of a child. And that you'll make sure the child has a loving, secure place to grow up in. It's a big responsibility. Maybe this was the best thing that could happen to that little girl if her own mother couldn't handle the responsibility.”

Camilla hoped she sounded convincing enough that it would put the worst of her son's fears to rest.

They sat at the breakfast table for a long time, but finally she got up and cleared the Nutella and cardamom rolls away and put the butter back in the fridge. Then she called the pastor to ask if he and Jonas wanted to come over for dinner so the boys could talk a little more about what they'd been through. She explained that the previous day's experiences had made quite an impression on Markus, and it turned out that Pastor Holm had decided to keep Jonas home from school for the same reason. He invited Camilla and Markus to come over to his place for dinner. When he said that Markus was welcome to come over right away if he wanted, Camilla decided to let her son play hooky with his buddy.

They cycled over to the pastor's residence together. Camilla put Markus's laptop with World of Warcraft in the basket on the front of her bike and followed him on the bike path. When they reached the church, she walked out back to the attached pastor's residence with Markus and knocked twice with the heavy door knocker before kissing him on both cheeks and promising that she would try to finish work at a reasonable hour. She smiled at Markus's friend when he yanked open the door and dragged Markus inside so they could start playing. She could see the pastor sitting at his computer in the living room and waved to him before shutting the door again and pushing her bike back down the drive to head to
Morgenavisen
.

When she called Frederiksberg Hospital, Camilla learned that the baby girl was still in the hospital and the doctor thought the infant would be there for a week or two until she was sent on to Skodsborg Orphanage.

“Unless the mother turns up,” he added.

Then she called the social services office and spoke to a woman who was also really hoping the mother would come forward. She made it clear that they would be lenient on a woman who had left her child that way. She didn't need to be afraid of prosecution, because what was important now was looking toward the future, and they would offer her whatever help she might need.

“If the mother comes forward now, will she be allowed to take the child home with her?” Camilla asked when she finally got ahold of a social worker who could advise her how the system usually worked.

“No,” Tanya Jensen replied without hesitation. “First there will be a period for the two of them to get to know each other, and the child will remain with the orphanage during that time. Of course we must be convinced that the mother can take care of the little girl now.”

“And what if she can't?”

“Well, then obviously we couldn't allow her to take the child home,” she replied after a moment's contemplation.

Camilla wondered how they evaluated that. The story of a mentally disabled woman who received assistance from the Danish government to be artificially inseminated, only to have the same government authorities turn around and take her child away the minute it was born was still fresh in her mind. Who decided who was suitable, and what was the decision based on?

Camilla took a deep breath and decided not to ask that question.

“Let's say the mother doesn't show up,” she said instead. “Then the child will be put up for adoption. When will that happen?”

Camilla had the sense that Tanya Jensen suddenly became a little less forthcoming.

“Hard to say. The biological mother should always have the chance to change her mind. She might be suffering from postpartum depression and she might need a while to come out of that.”

Camilla interrupted her. “Well, surely there must be a limit to how long the little girl has to wait in limbo to see if her mother is going to change her mind?”

“Of course. We're not talking about limbo, as you call it. There's always a waiting period for any adoption, even ones that have been planned for the whole pregnancy, and that's true in this case, too.”

“How long is it?” Camilla wanted to know.

“We figure it will take a couple of months before the child can be placed into her new family,” the social worker explained.

After that, Camilla talked to a psychologist who strongly rejected the notion that a child who had been abandoned by its mother would suffer any permanent sense of loss.

“Of course a newborn is affected when something is missing—eye contact for example,” Camilla wrote and further quoted the psychologist: “This is why it is essential for other people to start caring for an abandoned child quickly. But the most important thing is for the child to establish fundamental, basic trust either in her biological parents or in other people. The vast majority of children—four-fifths—will do well so long as that trust is there early on. The last fifth will have some problems, and a very small number will suffer serious harm. In those cases, a good outcome will depend on finding a family that can create a secure enough environment for the child.”

Camilla's own writing suddenly struck her as too impersonal. She pictured the little girl in her mind.
What about that last fifth?
Oh, she wished she knew if the baby would end up in that group; she thought she would end the article with the psychologist's statement that there is really only one researcher out there who claimed people could recall their own births—so this little girl's loss should by no means cause irreparable harm.

Earlier she had stopped by the church with the paper's photographer in tow and watched police using K-9 tracking dogs in the area. But when she called Rasmus Hem about the dogs, he said the police still didn't have anything to go on.

Once Camilla finished her article and submitted it to her editor, she packed up her bag. She checked with the police to see if there was any news in the search for the mother, and she had also been trying to get in touch with the coroner who'd been out to Kødbyen Sunday night. In sheer irritation at the lack of interest her proposal had aroused at the editorial meeting, she was going to pick the case of the murdered woman back up again and pursue it until she had enough material to run the story past her boss again. Kvist was staying in a hotel out in Silkeborg and had an interview lined up with one of the well-to-do married couples the art theft ring had targeted.

“Doctor Larsen still isn't in, and to be quite honest, I don't think he will be in today. He gave a lecture at National Hospital today and then went straight home from there, I believe,” said the receptionist at the pathology lab, where Camilla had given one last try before heading home. “He'll be off for the rest of the week.”

“Could you give me his cell number so I can contact him?” Camilla tried.

“Unfortunately, I can't give that to you,” the woman said.

“Well, could I have you call him and leave a message to contact me?” Camilla tried again.

Sometimes that worked. Other times it annoyed people, assuming they had time to waste helping her.

“I can't promise I can get hold of him, but I'd be happy to leave a message,” the woman agreed, and Camilla thanked her profusely.

8

C
AMILLA HAD OFFERED TO PICK UP SOME DINNER AND BRING IT
over to the pastor's residence, but Henrik Holm wouldn't hear of it. Instead she brought a few bottles of soda along in her bicycle basket.

“The boys are up in Jonas's room. They have a visitor,” Henrik told her with a grin as she came in and set her basket on the kitchen table.

She looked at him in surprise. He was standing at the stove, stirring a pot that smelled of chicken and spices. She asked who the guest was.