Only One Life (34 page)

“Hello,” she said when she saw it was Camilla. It took a little while before she could understand what her friend was saying. The sobbing made her voice unclear, and her words came out in hiccups.

“He killed himself?” Louise asked once she’d finally pieced together a bit of sense from the stream of words in her ear. “Of course I’d go with you, but are you sure it’s a good idea?” Louise asked.

She sat there holding her phone to her ear with one hand and drinking her beer with the other while the weeping Camilla explained that she couldn’t decide what to do. Finally Louise repeated that she would go if Camilla decided to attend the funeral. That calmed her friend down and then, to distract her, Louise said they’d just brought Samra’s uncle in and that he’d told them his niece had had a Danish boyfriend before she died.

“I think you’re wasting your time by focusing so much on the family,” Camilla said. “We’re so full of prejudices about the way they behave and in reality we Danes aren’t a damn bit better ourselves.”

It surprised Louise that she hadn’t piqued Camilla’s curiosity more. It just wasn’t like her not to ask for more information about a detail like the one Louise had just given her.

“What do you mean?” Louise asked, signaling to the waiter that she’d like a small draft beer.

“You can read all about it in
Morgenavisen
,” Camilla continued.

The beer arrived on her table and Louise asked for the check.

“Maybe you’re the one who should hold back a little until you find out what our investigation turns up, so you don’t waste your time on some dead end,” Louise retorted, smiling at her phone. They had eventually found balance in their relationship, the police detective and the journalist, but that didn’t stop them from giving each other a hard time when it was justified.

“Yes, well, let’s just see which of us is on the right track,” Camilla said, finally sounding a little less overwhelmed. “Are you going out to sit on that farmer’s beer bench tonight?” she asked before they wrapped up the conversation.

Louise felt a little flutter in her stomach at the thought. “It’s not out of the question,” she said, happy that her friend couldn’t see the red glow her cheeks had suddenly taken on.

35

O
NLY AFTER LOUISE HAD RUNG THE DOORBELL FOR THE SECOND
time did she notice the silence. There was no barking from the yard or from inside the house, but the big four-wheel-drive was parked in the driveway, which confused her.

She rang again, then walked over and peered in the kitchen window. The house seemed empty. She walked around it once. The curtains were drawn in several of the windows. She stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall, to think. She could call them when she got back to the station. It wasn’t because this couldn’t wait. She wanted to see how they were doing, given the two arrests, and talk to them about the funeral, which was scheduled for Monday.

An unpleasant mood had taken hold of the town as the rumors had spread that Samra’s father and brother had been taken into custody in the case, and in particular, the news that they were also being charged for Dicta’s murder had ratcheted things up to a fever pitch. The police were prepared for a big turnout at Dicta’s funeral and, along with the local detective inspector, Storm had agreed to send a handful of officers to keep the peace among the many teenagers who needed an outlet for their sorrow and anger. Anne and Henrik were informed of the situation, but had announced that everyone was welcome and said that afterward, there would be beer and soft drinks down at the youth hostel for anyone who wished to come.

Louise called them one last time. When they still didn’t pick up, she climbed back into her car and drove back downtown; but instead of heading for the police station, she turned down Ahlgade and parked outside Henrik’s chiropractic clinic.

She trotted quickly up the stairs and after she introduced herself, asked the receptionist if she knew where Henrik Møller was.

“Yeah, of course. He’s here,” she said with a smile.

Louise looked at her in confusion. “I had understood that he wasn’t coming in until after the funeral,” she said, speaking quietly because of the patients in the waiting room.

“That was the plan, but he came in this morning and has been taking patients all day. I didn’t really have the heart to talk him out of it.”

The receptionist’s hair hung around her head in loose curls. She had warm, cheerful eyes, and when she spoke about her boss her voice contained equal parts concern and care.

“There is actually a break in his schedule when he’s done with this current patient. Because I’m assuming you would like to speak to him,” she said, eyeing Louise inquisitively.

“Yes, please. I’ll make it quick.”

Louise sat down and grabbed a magazine, but had only just flipped to the first page when the receptionist called her name.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I hadn’t realized you were back at work,” Louise began once she was in Møller’s office. She explained that she had actually just come to ask if his receptionist had any idea where he was.

“I hadn’t planned on coming back so soon,” he said, tipping his desk chair back. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms up in the air and folded them behind his head.

He looked tired.

“I just stopped by your place, but there wasn’t anyone home,” Louise continued.

He looked at her in surprise. “Anne wasn’t there?”

Louise shook her head. “She didn’t answer the door, anyway.” Louise felt bad for a second. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten involved.

Henrik closed his eyes.

“I didn’t go home last night,” he admitted. He brought his arms down from behind his head and leaned forward, supporting himself on his elbows on his desk. “I actually haven’t been home since we found out you arrested the father and brother. She talks and talks and talks and blames me. I didn’t tell her I suspected that Dicta might have been up to something she hadn’t told us about.”

He rubbed his temples and let his eyes rest on the top of his desk.

“I can’t stand talking about it all the time. It’s not going to hurt any less just because you keep putting words to it. At least not for me, anyway,” he said.

Louise watched him in silence and when he looked up at her, their eyes met.

“Suddenly I can’t stand her,” he said, still looking Louise in the eye. “She closes her eyes to the fact that our daughter had a life that she wasn’t involved in. Which is ridiculous and naïve. The girl was fifteen.”

Louise didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

“Since that morning you came and told us what had happened, she’s been walking around pretending this doesn’t concern her. Sure, of course the pain and grief affect her. But she won’t hear a word about
Ekstra Bladet
, Samra’s diary, or the trips to Copenhagen. She doesn’t think that has anything to do with our daughter, and I just want to shake her.”

Louise was stunned, not so much because he was so incredibly irritated at his wife. She’d seen that before. It also wasn’t new to her that two parents could respond so differently to grief and that the response one of them had could really set the other one on edge. She just hadn’t thought it would be a problem for Anne and Henrik.

“The day after you came to our place, we had a visit from a journalist from
Morgenavisen
, who wanted to write an article about Dicta. We spent several hours talking to her, and that triggered something. Suddenly it became very apparent how differently we had perceived our family life and especially our daughter.”

Louise listened to these private reflections a bit uneasily. The man really should have been telling all this to a psychologist if he wanted to get anything out of it.

“Nor do I personally view it as the end of the world to see my daughter appear in
Ekstra Bladet.
She was a pretty girl, and we have no reason to be embarrassed. But Anne thinks she must have been forced into that, drugged or something,” he said with an awkward chuckle, and Louise smiled politely at his attempt to be funny.

“What about the funeral?” she asked.

He took a deep breath and said that he’d brought his dark suit with him when he left the house and wasn’t planning to go home before the funeral. He explained that he had a small room and a kitchenette here at the clinic and that that was where he was living for the time being.

Louise gave up on talking to him about the police turnout at the funeral and instead asked if his wife might have been out walking her dogs since she probably hadn’t gone anywhere without her car.

He looked at her with his zoned-out but friendly gaze and then shook his head.

“She put all the dogs into a kennel run by someone from the dog club. Even Charlie,” he added. “That’s how it is. She’s putting life on hold while I’m trying to get it to keep moving. That’s why we can’t be together right now.”

There still wasn’t any answer when Louise went back to the Møllers’ large home, but the bathroom window had been opened. After having walked around the house, Louise returned to the front door and left her finger on the bell for a while as she waited.

After ten minutes, something finally happened.

Louise instinctively took a step back when Anne opened the door. Dicta’s mother was in a thick red bathrobe and her pageboy hairdo hung wetly down over her ears; her eyes looked small without makeup and bore obvious signs of having cried themselves out of tears. The change was so pronounced that it was hard to believe that it had happened in such a short period of time. Louise wasn’t sure she would have recognized her on the street.

“Hi, Anne,” she said, stepping forward again.

Dicta’s mother looked at her but didn’t respond.

“Could I come in?” Louise asked, stepping forward, gripping Anne gently around the shoulders, and leading her into the laundry room. The flowers were still in their cellophane wrappers, the cards still unopened. There were cups, plates, and several empty wine bottles in the kitchen.

“I just went over to see Henrik. He thought you were probably still home even if you didn’t answer the door when I was here earlier.”

Louise was talking in an effort to bring some life to the room. She made herself at home and started a pot of coffee and followed Anne into the living room, where she sat down next to her on the sofa.

“How are you doing?” Louise asked. She tried to establish eye contact, but didn’t succeed.

Anne made a face. “What do you think?”

“Yes, well, good point,” Louise consented.

“My husband obviously thinks life goes on,” Anne said tersely, and Louise realized she shouldn’t have mentioned that she’d spoken to Henrik first.

“I don’t think it does,” Anne said.

“He’s not doing that well himself, either,” Louise said.

Finally something that got a response out of Anne. “Well, then, he’s doing a fucking crappy job at showing it. It’s like he has no reaction at all,” she said in a more neutral tone.

Louise decided not to explain that that was also a type of reaction, and in the subsequent silence it seemed as if Anne Møller had slipped back into her own world. Her voice sounded frail when she spoke again.

“I only had one child, and she only had one life. I can’t accept that it has all ended this way. And I don’t want to hear any talk about moving on. I have no desire to move on. Not ever. It isn’t fair. She’s not even buried yet. No one can tell me to pull myself together. Why should I?”

“I noticed that your dogs aren’t here,” Louise said, to get the woman thinking about something else.

Anne nodded. “I’m boarding them. They don’t understand that I feel violated every time they wag their tails or jump up happily to get me to play. They don’t understand that we don’t do those things anymore, so it was better to send them away.”

“Maybe it would’ve been good for you to have some kind of distraction,” Louise suggested.

“I don’t want to be distracted. I’m doing everything I can to hold my thoughts together.”

Her voice was starting to sound shrill.

Louise stood up. “Isn’t there anyone you’d like to have here with you?” she asked as she went to get the coffee and poured it into a thermos before setting it with a clean cup in front of Anne in the living room.

Anne Møller absentmindedly shook her head.

“Or someone you could stay with for a few days?” Louise tried again, but Anne just shook her head.

After Louise said good-bye, she stood out on the street for a second looking around at all the fashionable homes. It made her sad that Anne was so alone with her grief.

When she got back to the police station, Storm came rushing in and pulled her out into the hall.

“You have to hear this,” he said and led her into the room where the National Police interpreter was listening to the wiretap recording from the al-Abd family’s landline.

“Let’s go back. Rick needs to hear this sequence from the beginning.”

The interpreter nodded briefly at Louise and was about to start reading from a piece of paper when Storm interrupted him to explain that this was a conversation that had just taken place over dinner.