Unhinged: The ELECTRIFYING new instalment in the No. 1 bestselling Blix & Ramm series… E-Book
Thomas Enger
7,19 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Orenda Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
When a police investigator is killed execution-style and Blix's own daughter is targeted by the killer, he makes a dangerous decision, which could cost him everything. Blix & Ramm are back in a breathless, emotive thriller by two of Norway's finest crime writers… 'Superb Nordic noir. Dark, intricate and extremely compelling. Contemporary Scandinavian fiction at its best' Will Dean 'The most exciting yet' The Times 'Blends a gripping storytelling structure with thrilling tension and heartfelt moments … if you're a fan of writers like Lars Kepler, Stefan Ahnhem or Søren Sveistrup, you won't want to miss this' Crime by the Book –––––––––––––––––––– When police investigator Sofia Kovic uncovers a startling connection between several Oslo murder cases, she attempts to contact her closest superior, Alexander Blix before involving anyone else in the department. But before Blix has time to return her call, Kovic is shot and killed in her own home – execution style. And in the apartment below, Blix's daughter Iselin narrowly escapes becoming the killer's next victim. Four days later, Blix and online crime journalist Emma Ramm are locked inside an interrogation room, facing the National Criminal Investigation Service. Blix has shot and killed a man, and Ramm saw it all happen. As Iselin's life hangs in the balance, under-fire Blix no longer knows who he can trust … and he's not even certain that he's killed the right man… Two of Nordic Noir's most brilliant writers return with the explosive, staggeringly accomplished, emotive third instalment in the international, bestselling Blix & Ramm series … and it will take your breath away. –––––––––––––––––––––––– 'Short chapters, shifts in focus, and rapid changes in time frames kept me on my toes and high alert … The storytelling is just superb' LoveReading 'Devilishly complex' Publishers Weekly 'An exercise in literary tag-teaming from two of Norway's biggest crime writers with a bold new take...' Sunday Times 'Hands down, the best book in the series so far and it will satisfy even the most demanding readers' Tap the Line 'One of those jaw-dropping "what did you just do" kind of conclusions that will leave fans of the series reeling' Jen Med's Book Reviews 'Intense, dark, emotional and utterly outstanding!' Karen Cole Praise for the Blix & Ramm series 'Grim, gory and filled with plenty of dark twists ... There's definitely a Scandinavian chill in the air with this fascinating read' Sun 'Alongside Jo Nesbo's Knife, Smoke Screen is this summer's most anticipated read, and it doesn't disappoint' Tvedestrandsposten, Norway 'Masterly … surprises or shifts in subtle ways that are pleasing and avoid cliché' New Books Magazine 'A fast-moving, punchy, serial killer investigative novel with a whammy of an ending. If this is the first in the Blix and Ramm series, then here's to many more!' LoveReading 'Now what happens when you put two of the most distinguished writers of Nordic noir in tandem? Death Deserved by Thomas Enger and Jørn Lier Horst suggests it was a propitious publishing move; a ruthless killer is pursued by a tenacious celebrity blogger and a damaged detective' Financial Times For fans of Will Dean, Jussi Adler-Olsen, Ragnar Jónasson, Harlan Coben, Eva Bjorg Aegisdottir and Katrine Engberg
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 444
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
When police investigator Sofia Kovic uncovers a startling connection between several Oslo cases, she attempts to contact her closest superior, Alexander Blix, before involving anyone else in the department. But before Blix has time to return her call, Kovic is shot and killed in her own home – execution style. And in the apartment above, Blix’s daughter Iselin narrowly escapes becoming the killer’s next victim.
Four days later, Blix and online crime journalist Emma Ramm are locked inside an interrogation room, facing the National Criminal Investigation Service. Blix has shot and killed a man, and Ramm saw it all happen.
In the hospital, Iselin’s life hangs in the balance. Blix no longer knows who he can trust. And he’s not even certain he’s killed the right man…
Two of Nordic Noir’s most brilliant writers return with the explosive, staggeringly accomplished, hugely emotive third instalment in the international, bestselling Blix and Ramm series.
UNHINGED
JØRN LIER HORST & THOMAS ENGER
TRANSLATED BY MEGAN TURNEY
CONTENTS
1
There were no windows in the interrogation room – just four grey walls, three chairs and a table. The air was warm. Stifling.
Alexander Blix had spent many hours in various interview and interrogation rooms, but never here, at Kripos – Norway’s National Crime Investigation Service. And certainly never on this side of the table.
He raised his hand to inspect his forehead. The bandage. The skin around the stitches stung.
He thought of Iselin and a pain far more intense tore through him, shooting up from the pit of his stomach and settling in his chest. His beautiful little girl. The terrified look in her eye, her motionless body. It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t even had time to think.
The door to the interrogation room opened.
‘Sorry for making you wait,’ the man apologised as he entered. ‘There’s a lot going on just now.’
Bjarne Brogeland was a tall man, just over six foot. Always well groomed and meticulously dressed, and, even though he was now in his late forties, he still had a rather muscular build. His dark hair was shaved into a buzz cut. Recently, by the looks of it. Brogeland’s powerful cologne permeated the heavy air around them. It made Blix’s stomach churn.
With a few careful steps, Brogeland crossed the space between the table and the door, letting it close automatically behind him. He had a glass of water in one hand, and a bundle of papers and a pen in the other. He sat on the opposite side of the table. Shuffling the papers into a pile, he studied Blix, scanning him up and down, as if taking a mental note of his injuries, and, judging by the look on his face, making no effort to disguise his thoughts about them either.
Blix and Brogeland used to work in the same department, and had done so for years. Rarely together, for the simple reason that they’d never really got along. Blix had been pleased when he found out that Brogeland was leaving to start a new role as a specialist investigator for Kripos.
‘How is your daughter doing?’ Brogeland asked.
Blix took a deep breath. The images of what happened crashed over him, chilling him to the bone. He could see the rope as clearly as if he were still there – the fall, the lifeless body on the filthy concrete floor. The blood. The way she was sprawled on the ground, her limbs contorted in that unnatural position.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, exhaling heavily, fighting to hold back the tears. ‘I was told I’ll be updated as soon as they’re done in the operating room. But … you’ve got my phone, so…’
‘You know how it is,’ Brogeland said.
Blix looked down. ‘I do.’
‘I’ve told them to come and get me as soon as they hear anything,’ Brogeland informed him.
‘Who are they?’’ Blix asked.
‘Ah, the others here at the station. The people sat through there, watching and listening in.’
He nodded up at the camera in the top left-hand corner of the room.
Blix didn’t follow the movement. Instead, he asked: ‘Are you questioning Emma as well?’
‘I … can’t answer that,’ Brogeland answered. ‘You know…’
‘Yes, I know. Interrogation tactics,’ Blix said.
Brogeland smiled in confirmation, but didn’t elaborate.
‘You’re sure you don’t want a lawyer present?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘And you’re definitely going to be able to do this? Now, while—?’
‘I want to get it over and done with,’ Blix interrupted. ‘So I can be with Iselin.’
Brogeland frowned at him, as if he were unsure whether Blix would be allowed to leave the station at all.
Blix held his gaze. The specialist investigator shuffled slightly in his chair and looked away. Took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. Checked that the camera was on and recording, before announcing who was in the room, what the time was, and which case the questioning concerned.
‘You know the drill, Blix,’ Brogeland said. ‘We need to go through everything.’
‘Fine by me.’
‘Grand. Age?’
‘Forty-eight.’
‘Civil status?’
‘Divorced. I live alone.’
‘Address?’
‘Tøyengata 13, Oslo.’
‘Profession?’
‘Detective chief inspector. Homicide, Oslo Police District.’
‘How long have you been in that role?’
‘Eight years.’
‘And how long have you worked for the police overall?’
‘Coming up to twenty-one years and seven months.’
Blix answered without hesitation, all the while fixated on one specific spot on the floor. The warmth of the room had become oppressive. He started to sweat, but didn’t bother wiping it away.
‘Timo Polmar,’ Brogeland pressed on. ‘Who is he?’
‘He…’ Blix clasped his hands together, intertwining his fingers. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘No.’
‘But … you shot and killed him, did you not?’
Blix grimaced. That cologne…
‘I believe so,’ he answered. ‘But I can’t say for sure.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I … I’d never met him before today. And I didn’t check his ID after I…’
Brogeland furrowed his brow. He jotted something down on one of the sheets of paper he had resting on his lap.
‘You shot him four times?’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘Why four?’
‘Because…’ Blix took a deep breath. ‘Because that was what needed to be done, to stop him.’
Brogeland studied his face.
‘I did what I thought was necessary,’ Blix said. ‘Then and there, in that moment, it made sense to shoot. They were four justified shots.’
Brogeland didn’t respond.
‘Can you tell me how we ended up here?’ he asked after a short silence. ‘Can you explain how exactly it came to be that you wound up shooting and killing a man earlier this evening?’
Blix straightened up and released his fingers, forming a triangle with his hands instead.
‘I can certainly try.’
THIRTY-TWO HOURS EARLIER
2
‘…And I know how trivial this is going to sound, what I’m about to say, but the absolute most important thing you can do, as the family of a victim or as survivors yourself, is to allow yourselves to acknowledge how you really feel. You are allowed to be angry, to be depressed, especially considering what all of you in this room have been through, the things you’ve experienced. And you’re allowed to take a step back from everything, and only think of yourselves for a while.’
Blix’s gaze swept across the audience. The organisers had said there would be around sixty people attending his talk today, but there couldn’t have been more than forty in the room. But forty people meant forty lives that had been cut short. Each and every one of the audience members looking up at him now had experienced a great personal tragedy. They had felt what it was like to lose a loved one as a result of an accident or a criminal act.
Emma Ramm was one of them.
She was in the front row, notebook balanced on her lap, listening intently, as she had done throughout the entire event. Not that she needed to take on board anything he had to say; she’d heard it all before. If anyone knew how to cope with losing someone close to them, it was her. Blix had suggested she come anyway, seeing as she was writing a book on the subject. It could prove useful for her; the speakers and attendees might be able to contribute to her project.
He felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pocket. It must be something important. That was the seventh or eighth time it had gone off now. He considered glancing at the screen to see who had been calling, but resisted the urge.
‘The second most important thing is to remember that feelings are facts,’ he continued. ‘It’s tempting to put a lid on your emotions. But what you’re feeling is not wrong. Your emotions aren’t something you should ignore or try to bottle up. It can be tempting to do the exact opposite as well – only focus on the emotions you recognise, emotions you’ve felt before. Hatred, for example. And youare allowed to feel that hate. It’s only natural – of course you’re going to feel a gnawing, overwhelming desire to seek revenge.’
His phone stopped ringing. He had a quick look down at his notes, skipping over the personal anecdote he’d planned on including, and carried on.
‘The main difference,’ he continued, ‘lies in what you choose to do with those emotions. If you do choose to seek revenge, then you’re not really dealing with what’s actually driving your actions, the emotions behind them. The other problem with that is that you’d be breaking the law. And if you did that,’ he said with a grin, ‘you’d have the likes of me coming to stop you.’
Timid laughter spread around the room.
‘Preferably before you get that far, though,’ he added, taking a moment before turning solemn again.
‘But grief takes many forms. And everyone mourns in different ways. A lot of people find it hard to deal with, once the media have lost interest. It’s at that point the emptiness sets in, and maybe even a bitterness too, because you feel like people have stopped caring about what happened. People don’t realise that, for you, the pain is just as fucking excruciating as it was that first day – all day, every single day.’
Blix always liked to emphasise the swear-word a bit. It usually had an effect on the audience.
He didn’t particularly enjoy giving these talks, but he’d had a steady increase in requests over the last few years. He was glad this one was nearly over. And it wasn’t long until the weekend. He only hoped that the calls he’d been getting weren’t to ask him to do overtime. He just wanted to get home as soon as he was done here. Crack open a can of beer or two and do absolutely nothing, other than wait for the evening and weekend to roll in.
He started to wrap up, encouraging everyone to stay and mingle.
‘It’s the greatest cliché of them all, I know, but in the absence of a magic formula to instruct you on how to get through this, how to deal with what each and every one of you are currently going through, the best thing you can do might actually be the simplest. And that’s to talk to each other, arrange to meet, family to family. Share your experiences. Help each other. You are stronger together. You can process the pain, survive this, together.’
He felt a vibration in his pocket again. Two short buzzes against his thigh. A text.
Blix glanced at the clock on the lectern. He still had a few minutes left, but strictly speaking, he had said all he’d wanted to say.
‘Thank you for listening,’ he said, gathering up his notes.
He stood there, papers in hand for a moment, taking in the audience’s polite applause, smiling and nodding his appreciation a few times.
One of the organisers walked onto the stage, holding a bouquet of autumnal flowers. She said a few words about how grateful they were that he had taken the time to come talk to them today. Blix shook her hand, smiled and nodded one last time, before removing the microphone from his shirt collar and handing it back to the sound engineer.
He walked to the side of the stage and pulled his phone out.
Nine missed calls.
His finger slid across the screen, unlocking it. Kovic had called twice. As had Fosse, just a few minutes ago. The notifications that caught his eye, however, were the four missed calls from Iselin. They had come through in quick succession, each immediately after the other.
He swiped up on the call log and opened his texts. Fosse had told him to ring him back as soon as he received his message. Blix felt a growing sense of uneasiness. He tapped on his boss’s number and lifted the phone to his ear.
‘Have you heard?’ Fosse asked, answering on the first ring, as if he had been sitting with his phone in his hand, waiting for Blix to call.
‘Heard what?’ Blix asked, catching the eye of one of the audience members and sending them a brief smile, before laying a finger over his other ear to block out the din of the room behind him.
‘We’ve dispatched all our units to Kovic’s flat,’ Fosse answered. ‘A suspected intruder. And reported gunfire. Where are you?’
Blix didn’t answer the question.
‘Have you heard from Kovic?’ he asked instead.
‘She’s not picking up.’
Blix’s stomach clenched. His thoughts went straight to Iselin, who rented a room in Kovic’s flat for when she was back in Oslo during the weekends. She had tried calling him four times.
‘Are you there?’ Fosse asked.
‘I’ll call you back.’
Blix could hear Fosse protesting, but he hung up and called Iselin.
No answer.
Blix cursed inwardly and opened his unread messages. Iselin had left a voicemail after her last attempt to call him.
He opened his inbox, first listening to a recording of Fosse, basically telling him the exact same thing he had told him a moment ago, but with the addition of:
‘Another woman rang for an ambulance, but she didn’t identify herself. Iselin lives with Kovic, right? Not that that necessarily means anything, of course, let me stress that, but call me anyway. The moment you get this.’
Blix pressed the button to hear the next message. The sound of movement, ragged breathing, fast footsteps slamming against asphalt.
And then:
‘Dad!’
Blix had seen and heard his daughter in moments of fear in the past, but there was a primal panic in her voice this time, one he had never heard before. She was running, trying to talk at the same time.
‘I … think he shot her!’ she yelled.
More fumbling, erratic breathing. The sound of a car driving by. Rustling, as if she were pushing her way through a bush, snapping its branches.
‘I think … he might be … chasing me. Dad, you have to—’
The recording ended.
‘Shit,’ Blix swore to himself, checking when the call had been made. Twenty-one minutes ago.
He tried calling her again. A woman at the edge of the crowd was trying to catch his attention. Blix turned his back to the room as he waited for Iselin to pick up. With his free hand, he opened his satchel and shoved his notes inside, all the time listening as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.
He noticed Emma standing a few metres away too, watching him. She mouthed: What’s going on? Blix didn’t respond. The ringing continued.
And then, finally, an answer:
‘Dad…’ Iselin, whispering. Trembling. It sounded as if she were struggling to breathe, taking in short, sharp gasps.
‘Iselin,’ Blix exclaimed. ‘Where are you? What’s happened?’
‘I’m … hiding,’ she said.
‘Iselin, listen to me: where are you?’ he urged.
‘I’m…’
He could tell she was exhausted. That she couldn’t think straight. He repeated the question.
‘St. Hanshaugen,’ she told him at last. ‘In the park.’
‘Is someone following you?’
Again, he had to ask her twice.
‘I don’t know.’ It came out as a sob.
‘Kovic, she…’
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘Have you called the police?’
She took a few seconds, before replying: yes.
‘You didn’t pick up.’
It sounded like an accusation – it felt like one too.
‘Did you tell them where you were?’
She wept. ‘I … don’t remember.’
‘Call them again, get them to come and find you. Tell them exactly where you are, they’ll send a patrol car to pick you up.’
‘Can’t you come?’
‘I’m still twenty minutes away,’ he answered, knowing it could be more. ‘The patrol car will get to you faster.’
Iselin didn’t respond.
‘Are you in pain?’ Blix asked. ‘Are you injured?’
‘He missed.’
‘Missed? What do you…?’
‘He shot at me, Dad!’ The words came out staccato – as if she were shivering. Another sob escaped her.
Blix ran his hand over his head. ‘Okay, stay where you are, but call the police again,’ he ordered. ‘Now. And then call me back immediately after. I will be there as soon as I can.’
3
Brogeland lifted his chin, scrutinising Blix, who sat a little more upright, pushing his shoulders back.
‘So at this point, you had no idea what had happened in Kovic’s flat?’
‘No, I just knew that something had happened. I tried to call her – Kovic, I mean – after I’d spoken to Iselin, but her phone was off. Or … I couldn’t get through to her anyway.’
‘You…’ Brogeland flipped through the stack of documents on his lap. ‘You called her at … 16:42?’
‘If that’s what it says there, then yes,’ Blix said, nodding at the papers. ‘I wasn’t really paying attention to the time.’
‘Was Emma Ramm with you already at that point?’
‘No, I left the event by myself.’
‘And you didn’t talk to her before leaving?’
Blix hesitated for a second before shaking his head. ‘I just told her I had to go.’
‘You didn’t tell her that something had happened?’
‘No, but I think she realised.’
Brogeland jotted something down. Blix was expecting him to ask what kind of relationship he and Emma had. Wondered how much Brogeland knew.
‘Okay,’ the Kripos investigator said. ‘You left the talk and drove back to Oslo. What happened then?’
The other motorists obediently pulled onto the hard-shoulder at the sight of the flashing blue light on Blix’s car roof. He adjusted his headset to try and hear more clearly. He had made Iselin stay on the line as he got back into his car, but the communication had been almost solely one-sided. He’d tried getting her to explain what had happened, what she’d seen, but she had answered absent-mindedly, offering monosyllabic responses.
Pulling off the motorway at the exit to Smestad, Blix asked if she could see the patrol car yet.
‘They’re here.’
‘Can you see them?’
No answer.
‘Get up. Go to them,’ Blix insisted.
He had spent the drive trying to reassure her that whoever had tried to shoot her would most likely have wanted to flee the scene afterwards, and that they wouldn’t be running around the entire borough of St. Hanshaugen, trying to track her down. But he wasn’t sure she had taken any of it in.
‘Just focus on the police car,’ he said, overtaking a taxi. ‘Make yourself visible.’
Nothing.
‘Iselin,’ he said sternly. ‘Make sure they can see you. Wave. Let them know it’s you they’re looking for.’
Iselin took a deep breath, as if she were trying to talk herself into getting up.
Voices in the background. Whose they were, Blix couldn’t tell, but plenty of officers had met Iselin at the station over the years, and even if they hadn’t, most of them would recognise her face. If she couldn’t bring herself to wave or say anything, there was a good chance that they would find her and help her themselves.
The call cut off.
Blix stared at the screen, afraid that Iselin’s fears had come true. He was in the process of calling her back when a message from an unknown number popped up on the display:
Your daughter is safe – Eriksen.
Blix had no idea who Eriksen was, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Iselin was safe. He could relax his shoulders.
Approaching the city centre, he headed towards the Majorstua district, grateful for the fact that the blue lights served as a plough through the traffic. He was soon on the street where Kovic had been living for the last eleven months – Geitmyrsveien. Blix had visited her there a few times, the first time being for the housewarming party. He had felt so old among her friends. Out of place beside their younger colleagues. He’d left early, as he always did with parties. Kovic had been a bit disappointed.
His stomach lurched at the sight of more blue, flashing lights a few hundred metres up the road. He could see the uniformed officers assembled on the pavement outside, the spectators who had gathered on the other side of the police tape, filming and taking photos. Exchanging worried glances.
A first-responder’s car pulled off the pavement and drove off. Blix parked in the empty space and was out of the driver’s seat before the engine had even stopped. He could hear the blades of the police helicopter oscillating in the air above him.
He pulled his ID card out, presented it to the officer as he approached the barrier, ducked underneath and hurried towards the open door.
The sound of his own footsteps reverberated around the stairwell as he stormed up the steps, taking three at a time. Another uniformed officer was standing guard at the door to Kovic’s flat, but moved aside at the sight of Blix, handing him a pair of plastic shoe covers to put on before going in.
Blix stopped on the threshold and took a deep breath. Tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see, readying himself as he always did when entering a crime scene. This wouldn’t be the first time that the home of someone he knew, or knew of, had become the location of a crime. But this was different.
He dragged the plastic covers over his boots and took a step inside. Then another. Blix kept his gaze fixed to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. Not yet.
He closed his eyes, kept them shut tight. Inhaled through his nose. Opened his eyes again. Then gradually raised them, like the lens of a camera in a slow-motion film, and found himself staring down the hallway.
He blinked a few times, unable to focus. Yet, between the officers who had arrived before him, he could see a body. Back to the ground, head tilted, one arm cast out to the side, the other raised above her head. As if she had her hand up to ask a question.
There was a bullet hole on the left side of her forehead. She was lying in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were wide open. Blix swallowed. Once. Then again.
‘Jesus,’ he whispered to himself.
Sofia Kovic had been executed.
4
‘What was the nature of your relationship with Kovic?’
Blix raised his head to look directly at Brogeland.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean – what was the nature of your relationship with Kovic?’
Blix stared at him in silence for a few seconds.
‘I was her superior,’ he said eventually, a little more aggressively than he’d meant it to sound. ‘From the very first day she joined Homicide. I kind of took on the role of her mentor.’
‘And that was all?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Brogeland didn’t react. Just waited patiently for Blix to answer.
‘Are you trying to insinuate that I had a relationship with her?’
‘I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just asking.’
‘We were colleagues,’ Blix answered. ‘I’m old enough to be her father.’
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.’
‘No, maybe it’s never meant anything to you.’
Brogeland smirked. ‘Your fingerprints were all over her flat.’
‘My daughter lived there,’ Blix said. ‘I’ve been there several times. And they can’t have been everywhere, seeing as I’ve never been in Kovic’s bedroom, for example.’
‘And you’re sure of that?’
‘I’m sure,’ Blix replied. ‘There was never anything like that between us.’
Regardless, Brogeland’s question made him uneasy. As if Kripos had found something that would prove otherwise. He racked his brain, trying to remember if he had ever wandered into Kovic’s room at any point, maybe when they were being shown around the flat during her housewarming party, but he distinctly remembered having waited in the doorway.
He sat up slightly in the chair. ‘Has someone claimed otherwise?’ he enquired.
Brogeland didn’t respond.
‘When was the last time you were in the flat?’ he asked instead.
Blix tried to recollect when that would’ve been. ‘A couple of weeks ago, maybe?’
‘And your fingerprints were still there from a few weeks ago, were they?’
‘I don’t know how regularly they cleaned,’ he said, his patience wearing thin now. ‘You think I killed her? Is that what you’re trying to get out of me? Are you trying to figure out if I had a motive to murder her?’
He didn’t give Brogeland a chance to answer:
‘I was in Sandvika when she was murdered, giving a talk, just in case you’ve already forgotten. There were forty attendees. And anyway, do you think I’d then try and kill my own daughter afterwards?’
Brogeland continued, unfazed: ‘Do you usually spend much time in your colleagues’ homes?’
‘Well I’ve never been to your house, Brogeland, but that’s because you’ve always been a dickhead.’
Silence. Blix could feel the anger coursing through his body. It felt like they were wasting time, but he knew he was only dragging out the process even more by rising to Brogeland’s provocations.
He took a sip from the glass of water on the table in front of him. Wiped the sweat from his forehead.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That last bit was unnecessary.’
‘It’s fine,’ Brogeland replied. ‘I know I’m a bit of a dickhead.’
He sent him an amiable smile. Blix appreciated it.
‘Do you want to take a break?’
Blix shook his head. Deciding to try and be as cooperative as possible, so he could get out of there sooner rather than later.
‘To answer your question – no, I don’t make a habit of visiting colleagues at home. But Kovic was special, that I’ll gladly admit. We had a good relationship. But there was never even the hint of an amorous moment between us, just pure collegial empathy and respect, as it should be.’
‘She was special, you say. In what way?’
‘She…’
Blix stopped to consider his words.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said at last. ‘But she was talented. A real hard worker. Genuinely committed to the job. She never left a stone unturned, was always ready to lend a hand. She was obviously the youngest in the department too, and for those of us who are getting on a bit, she brought this infectious energy to work with her. Everyone liked her.’ He shook his head, let out a long sigh. ‘It sounds like I’m giving her a reference.’
Brogeland wrote something on his notepad. Blix couldn’t see what exactly.
‘Emma Ramm’s fingerprints were also found in Kovic’s flat,’ Brogeland went on.
‘Emma and Kovic had become good friends over the last few years,’ Blix explained. ‘They spent a lot of time together, would work out together. Cycling and that kind of thing, every now and then, as far as I’m aware. Emma knew – knows – my daughter well too.’
He stopped himself. His thoughts returned to Iselin. Her lifeless body. Her unresponsive eyes. He had to trust that the surgeons knew what they were doing.
Brogeland studied him for a moment.
‘What did you do after entering Kovic’s flat?’
Blix thought back.
‘I went up to Iselin’s room.’
5
Blix pulled on a pair of latex gloves and made his way carefully up the stairs to Iselin’s loft room. Almost as if he was afraid of waking someone who might be asleep up there. The door was ajar. He used his elbow to nudge it open and stood there, looking in.
It was obvious a fight had taken place. Shards of glass from the mirror that had once hung on the wall were now scattered across the floor. The desk chair had been overturned and was lying on its back. Textbooks and various toiletries had been strewn about the room. One of the curtains had been torn down, while the other fluttered out of the open window.
Blix made his way cautiously through the mess.
There was something lodged in the windowsill.
A bullet.
He stepped quickly but lightly back to the landing and shouted down to the hallway below, requesting one of the forensic technicians come up and secure the evidence.
Someone had entered the flat, Blix thought, shot Kovic, and had then come upstairs to get rid of Iselin.
Because he’d heard her?
Or had he known she was home?
Blix looked around for places the perpetrator might have left traces of himself. He was soon joined by someone from the forensics team. Blix knew the man’s face, but not his name. Tall, rather thin, with a big brown beard he had tied up with an elastic band to keep it out of the way as he worked.
Blix pointed out what he’d found, taking a moment to peer out the window. Scaffolding. That must’ve been how Iselin had managed to escape. The front of the building was being renovated.
The police presence outside had grown enormously. There were blue flashing lights down the length of the street. Through the scaffolding, he spotted his fellow homicide investigators: Tine Abelvik, Nicolai Wibe and Petter Falkum. A police car pulled up alongside them. Abelvik leant down to talk to the driver.
‘You’ll need to leave in a minute,’ the forensics technician told Blix. ‘We need to examine this floor, seeing as it looks like the perpetrator was up here too.’
‘Of course,’ Blix said.
On the way back downstairs, he tried to summarise in his mind everything he knew about Kovic’s personal life. Not a lot, he realised – Kovic had never really been one to share much about her life outside of work. All he knew was that she was taking this week off in lieu of overtime, but he didn’t know what she’d had planned. Blix had been tempted to call her a few times over the last few days, but he hadn’t been able to remember the last time he had a single day, let alone a whole week, off without someone from the office calling about something or other, so he had decided against it. It was one of the worst parts of the job – you never really had time off. Exactly why he had chosen to leave Kovic in peace.
He found Abelvik and Falkum waiting for him in the kitchen. It only took a few seconds before Abelvik’s face crumpled and she burst into tears. Blix felt his own eyes prickle as he embraced his colleague, stroking her back a few times as she wept.
‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Just … unbelievable.’
Abelvik pulled away, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Iselin’s waiting downstairs in one of the cars,’ she said, followed by a sniff. ‘They’re taking her to A&E before she gives her statement.’
Blix automatically took a step back towards the door.
‘How is she?’
‘She sustained an injury to the face, and she’s got a pretty bad cut on the bottom of her foot. She’ll need stitches. It’s from the scaffolding, I’d imagine. She climbed down it barefoot. She’ll probably need to get an x-ray as well. Looks like she may have a few broken ribs.’
‘Broken…?’
‘Yes, she fought the perpetrator, before getting away.’
Blix tried to swallow away the shock. ‘How did she seem to you?’
Abelvik hesitated. ‘I think she’ll be okay, but she’s going to need some help,’ she answered. ‘Talk to someone, process the thoughts that will inevitably crop up, considering what she’s just been through.’
‘I’ll call Neumann,’ Blix said immediately. ‘He’s usually made time outside of office hours before. Maybe he can see her tomorrow.’
‘I think that’d be best.’
Blix took another few steps back into the hallway. ‘I’ll go with her to the hospital,’ he said on his way out. ‘Have you got everything in hand here? Forensics have already started, but we need to start knocking on doors.’
Abelvik nodded.
Petter Falkum started to usher him out. ‘We’ve got this,’ he said, with a nod back into the flat. ‘Go be with your daughter. And let us know if there’s anything we can do.’
Blix nodded instead of saying thank you.
By the time he was back on the pavement, the patrol car with Iselin had pulled away and was now moving down the road. The flashing blue lights blinded the journalists and spectators standing nearby, forcing them to look away. Blix ran after the car for a few metres, before giving up and hurrying back to his own to follow behind instead.
The police helicopter was still hovering overhead. Another car pulled up with two young officers sat in the front seats. Gard Fosse climbed out from the back, in full uniform as always, donning his police cap with its traditional, gold oak-leaf embroidering. Some of the photographers standing nearby turned to take photos.
He spotted Blix.
‘Status?’ he asked, approaching him.
Blix clenched his jaw and shook his head.
‘She’s dead,’ he eventually managed to say. ‘Shot in the head at close range.’
Fosse tried to speak, but stopped to compose himself first.
‘And the perpetrator?’
‘No leads thus far,’ Blix answered, going on to describe how Iselin had escaped. ‘She’s on the way to A&E. I’m heading there now.’ He opened the car door. ‘Abelvik and Falkum are upstairs,’ he said with a nod back up to the flat.
Fosse responded with a brief nod in return and headed towards the building. An officer lifted the barrier tape and escorted him inside.
Blix dropped down into the driver’s seat. Put both hands on the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths before starting the engine. Using one hand to manoeuvre out onto the road, he unlocked his phone with the other, found Emma’s number and called her.
‘Blix?’ she said the second she answered. ‘What’s going on?’
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything at first.
Then: ‘I…’
A siren started wailing in the background.
‘Are you in St. Hanshaugen?’ she asked. ‘I’ve just had some news alerts come through.’
‘Yes,’ he replied, clearing his throat. ‘And it’s awful, what I have to tell you, but … Kovic is dead.’
‘What?’
‘Kovic’s dead,’ Blix repeated. ‘She was shot and killed at close range. Less than an hour ago.’
‘But…’
‘I know you two were close,’ Blix continued. ‘So I wanted to let you know. Before you heard it elsewhere.’
Emma didn’t say anything for quite some time.
‘Thanks … for letting me know,’ she said eventually. ‘Who … Has anyone been arrested?’
‘Not yet. Iselin was home at the time too. She escaped.’
‘God,’ Emma exhaled. ‘That’s…’
Blix had to stop for a red light. He moved the phone to his other ear.
‘When did you last talk to Kovic?’ he asked.
‘I … I saw her yesterday,’ Emma answered. ‘We went on a long bike ride. Down to Tusenfryd and back.’
‘How did she seem to you?’
‘I mean … like her usual self.’
‘There wasn’t anything about her behaviour that may have indicated she was having problems with anyone at all?’
‘Nothing that I noticed,’ Emma said. ‘We had a good time, had a laugh, the usual really. But … now that I think about it, she was maybe a bit … distant.’
‘Distant?’
‘Yeah, like her mind was elsewhere. Like she was thinking about something. Not the whole time though, just … every now and then.’
The light changed from red to green. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
‘You didn’t ask what was on her mind?’
‘No. I thought if it was something important, she would’ve brought it up.’
‘Did she usually do that?’ Blix asked. ‘Talk through things with you?’
‘It’d depend,’ Emma replied. ‘I think I was the first person she told when she ended it with the plumber.’
Blix frowned. ‘The plumber?’
‘She was dating a plumber for a while. Jo Inge Fjellvik, or at least I think that was his name. It’s not been that long since they broke up.’
Blix made a mental note to talk to him as soon as possible.
‘How’s Iselin doing?’ Emma asked.
He told her all he knew.
‘I’m on my way to the hospital now,’ he added.
‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ Emma offered. ‘I can help. I can come and keep her company, just be there with her.’
‘Thanks for offering,’ Blix replied. ‘But I think I should look after her myself tonight.’
‘What about tomorrow, though? You’ll have work, won’t you?’
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,’ he answered, followed by a long exhale. ‘I’ve got to go, anyway. But keep everything I’ve said between us for the time being. We’ve not informed Kovic’s mother yet.’
‘Of course,’ Emma responded. ‘Bloody hell. This is just … horrific news.’
‘I know,’ Blix sighed. And that was putting it mildly, he thought.
They ended the call. The sudden silence filled the car. Blix reached across to the dashboard and turned on the police radio. The operations centre had set up a specific channel for the investigation. He caught the tail end of a bulletin. Something about a burglary in the same area the day before – a man wearing a hoodie, jeans and military boots. The report included several potential witness statements, evidence of a glove that the dog patrol had tracked down the road and found outside the local school, and information that the covert policing unit had arrested someone they had been pursuing in a surveillance operation just a few minutes away, in the square at Alexander Kiellands plass. It was difficult to decide what was actually relevant to the case, and what was just coming to light in their intensive efforts to find the person responsible.
Blix detached the portable radio and took it into the A&E department with him. He approached the desk and was guided into the private waiting room reserved for victims of assault and other patients who had been involved in criminal cases.
Iselin was sitting in a corner, beside a table piled high with old magazines. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Other than that, all she had on was a white bra and pyjama bottoms.
She looked worse than he had been prepared for. Her lip had been split open and her chin was coated in dark, congealed blood. There were scratches all over her face. One of her eyes was swollen. She had a bandage wrapped around one of the deeper cuts on her arm, and some of the smaller wounds looked like they had stopped bleeding. She had nothing on her feet, which were filthy. There was a loose bandage tied around her right foot, which the blood had soaked right through.
He wasn’t sure whether she had registered his arrival. She was staring at the floor, a distant look in her eye. Sitting down in the chair next to her, he gently laid his hand on top of hers. Only when she felt the warmth of his skin on her own did she turn to look at him.
‘My darling,’ Blix said in a low, soothing voice. Again, he had to fight to keep the tears back.
Iselin didn’t say a word. Blix moved his hand to her face, her forehead, swept her fringe aside, out of her eyes. She was so pale. Her eyes were bloodshot. He pulled her in close.
‘Is she dead?’ Iselin whispered.
Blix waited for a moment before answering:
‘I’m afraid so.’
He had expected Iselin to break down, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t respond to his embrace. When he let go, it was as if her body were there, but her mind was elsewhere.
A female police officer who had been standing guard at the door cleared her throat. ‘We’re waiting on the doctor,’ she informed him. ‘And one of the forensic technicians is on their way to document her injuries and secure any evidence and DNA traces.’
Blix looked up at her and nodded, taking it as a given that she knew who he was. He turned back to his daughter.
‘Iselin,’ he began. ‘We need to know what you saw. If you can describe the perpetrator.’
He tried to get eye contact with her. Still nothing.
‘Did you talk to Kovic today?’
Iselin didn’t respond. There was nothing behind her eyes. Her lips were dry, cracked.
A door opened and a nurse entered. ‘Iselin Skaar?’
Iselin didn’t respond.
‘You can come through for your x-ray and MRI scan now,’ the nurse told her. ‘Do you think you can manage?’
Blix pushed himself up from the chair. His knees cracked. Iselin pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders and stood up.
‘I can get you a wheelchair if you want?’ the nurse offered.
Iselin shook her head and trudged towards her. Blix followed them into a new waiting room. Another nurse arrived, and they took Iselin into a separate room for her examination.
‘Should I come with you?’ Blix asked.
Iselin shook her head.
‘You can wait in here,’ the nurse told him. ‘There’s a coffee machine out in the hallway.’
Blix took a seat. He couldn’t stomach anything. The police radio crackled as an update came through. Several patrol units had assembled outside an apartment building. They were waiting for the police tactical unit, Delta, to arrive. The rest of the message cut out.
‘I imagine this will take a couple of hours,’ the officer who had been waiting with Iselin said. ‘After that, we’ll drive her to the station to get her statement.’
Blix’s phone rang. Abelvik.
‘We have a suspect,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘A thirty-three-year-old man named Martin Hikes. Known to police for various misdemeanours. He’s barricaded himself into a flat in Iladalen. We’re evacuating the other tenants. Delta are outside, ready to go in.’
Blix stood up, sent a quick glance to the door of the room Iselin was in.
‘I’m on my way,’ he said.
6
‘So you left Iselin at the hospital?’
Blix could feel his anger rising at Brogeland’s long-winded approach to interrogation. His questions were rhetorical. His repetitions had no other function than to provoke him. It was like Brogeland took pleasure in emphasising and pointing out the things Blix did wrong. It felt like he was purposefully wasting time.
‘Yes,’ Blix answered promptly, not wanting to spend any more time explaining his thought processes.
‘This Hikes…’ Brogeland continued. ‘How did he become a suspect?’
‘It was a combination of things,’ Blix answered, stretching his legs out under the table. ‘There had been several cases in the same neighbourhood over the last few weeks, where an intruder had climbed up the scaffolding, looking for open windows and letting themselves in. Martin Hikes came up as a potential suspect, seeing as he’s known to police as a local thief and had been convicted in a serious assault case. On top of that, he lives in the same area and happened to be seen in a nearby street not long before the murder. Could’ve been a break-in that went wrong.’
‘And you were there when Delta stormed the flat?’
Blix nodded at the pile of documents resting on Brogeland’s lap.
‘I imagine you’ve already got the answer to that in those reports of yours.’
It was getting dark out. The beam of the police helicopter’s searchlight guided the way. The flashing lights atop the police cars coloured the old brick apartment buildings blue. Curious neighbours stood in their windows, watching the events unfold.
Blix drove right up to the barrier, got out and ducked underneath. He strode over to the building entrance, where Petter Falkum was already stood waiting beside two uniformed officers.
‘We can’t get a hold of him,’ Falkum explained. ‘He’s not answering the doorbell or his phone.’
‘Are we sure he’s even in?’
‘His neighbour said he came home about an hour ago.’
One hour. Blix tried to calculate whether that would fit into the timeline. Possibly.
Two black vans rolled up and mounted the edge of the pavement. Six Delta officers jumped out. Black coveralls, helmets, shields, weapons. One of them had a battering ram perched on their shoulder. A few brief commands were given before they entered the building in one swift, well-rehearsed manoeuvre.
Martin Hike’s flat was on the second floor. Blix and Falkum waited on the landing below.
One of the officers hammered his fist against the door. ‘Police!’ he roared. ‘Open the door or we’ll break it down.’
Whoever was inside was told that they had ten seconds to comply. The officer with the battering ram positioned himself in front of the door, holding it with both hands, ready. When Hikes’s ten seconds were up, the officer hurled it at the door. The wood splintered. The door caved in, with part of the frame left hanging on the hinge. The unit charged inside, weapons held out steady in front of them.
Blix stayed where he was on the landing below – he could tell what was happening in the flat from the sound of the commands directly above them.
‘Armed police! Stay where you are!’ Followed by: ‘Get on the floor! Arms at your side.’
A few seconds passed by, and then a message was issued over the police radio.
‘Suspect arrested. All clear.’
Blix ascended the last few steps and entered the flat alongside Falkum. They stepped over various bits of computer equipment piled up on the floor in the hallway and headed into the living room. Several of the Delta officers had removed their helmets.
Martin Hikes was lying on the floor in a pair of grubby jeans and a black hoodie, arms handcuffed behind his back. Two of the officers lifted him up and sat him in an armchair. His hair was draped over his face. He wore a thick pair of glasses that had been knocked askew in the arrest. He seemed indifferent.
‘What’s this about?’ he stuttered.
‘A shooting on Geitmyrsveien,’ he was told.
‘A shooting?’ Martin Hikes shook his head. ‘Nothing to do with me. Don’t even like guns.’
The Delta unit leader approached Blix. ‘Do you want to talk to him here, or shall we take him in?’
‘Take him in,’ Falkum answered instead, and turned to Blix: ‘I’ll see to this.’
Two of the men pulled Hikes up onto his feet and steered him out of the flat. Blix stood there watching as they practically dragged the gaunt man away. Something told him they were on the wrong track. That what happened to Kovic wasn’t the result of a botched burglary. Something else was behind Kovic’s execution.
7
‘Martin Hikes was ruled out then?’ Brogeland asked, using the top of the ballpoint pen he had in his hand to scratch his forehead.
‘Eventually,’ Blix nodded.
‘How so?’
‘We searched his flat. Found plenty of stolen goods, but no guns. Brought in all his shoes for testing, but none of them matched the print we lifted from Kovic’s flat. He had no trace of gunpowder on him or his clothes. No blood either. He didn’t fit the profile anyway. He’s not a murderer.
‘But Timo Polmar was?’ Brogeland asked.
‘I don’t know.’
A deep crease appeared on Brogeland’s forehead. ‘You don’t know?’
‘No. As I said, I don’t know if he was the one who killed Kovic or not. There’s a lot that would point to it being him, but I’m not convinced. Something doesn’t add up.’
‘What doesn’t add up?’
‘I can’t figure out his motive,’ Blix answered. ‘We’ve gone through the cases Kovic had been working on, compiled a list of names of people we thought could be possible suspects, but he never came up. There’s nothing linking Polmar and Kovic. I’d never even heard of him until a few hours ago, and I doubt Kovic ever had any contact with him either.’
Blix brought his hands together and rested them on the table in front of him. Thought about his brief encounter with Polmar, before he’d shot him. That unstable, bewildered look in his eye. But there was something else. Something about him that didn’t quite fit with the image Blix had formed of Kovic’s murderer, and yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was.
His thoughts returned to Iselin. What if she didn’t make it?
Cold sweat dripped down his neck, making his shirt stick to his back.
Brogeland continued. ‘After Hikes was arrested then – what did you do? Did you go back to A&E, to Iselin?’
Blix shook his head. ‘I went to the station,’ he answered. ‘Gard Fosse had called a meeting.’
The command room, where Homicide’s larger meetings were held, was on the sixth floor of police HQ and had more people crammed into it than Blix had thought possible. Not even when a bomb had gone off outside Oslo City Hall, and the entire country thought it had been hit by a targeted terror attack, had there been that many people in the room. So many, in fact, that they were lined up along the walls in rows several people deep.
They had lost colleagues before, but not like this. Not in what could only be described as an outright execution. It messed with your head. Around him he saw the faces of a number of his colleagues he knew were meant to be off work or on holiday. Blix could see on their faces that none of them would bat an eyelid about the amount of overtime they would be doing, or how little sleep they would be getting in the days to come. All that mattered to them now was finding the person responsible.
Some of them stood with their arms folded across their chests. Others simply stared ahead, hands clasped around their coffee cups, not focussing on anything in particular.
The clock had just turned half past seven. Kovic had been dead for three hours, maybe a little less.
‘Good evening,’ Gard Fosse announced, already struggling to keep his voice steady. Blix felt that he wasn’t putting on an act for once. ‘It’s…’ Fosse paused. Cleared his throat. ‘It’s days like today that…’ Again, he had to stop and compose himself before continuing. ‘…That nothing makes sense. That the world has been completely knocked off its axis. That a deep abyss has opened beneath us. Luring us in.’
Blix was reminded of what he had said to the audience at his own talk in Sandvika earlier that day. How processing grief always began with a phase of feeling utter despair. Followed by anger. And then, maybe, hatred. Until the bottomless pit of emptiness drags us in entirely. Into its nothingness.
‘It is at times like these that we need something to hold on to,’ Fosse said. ‘And, luckily, dear colleagues, we do have something to hold on to: our memories of Sofia Kovic. The laughs we shared…’ He raised his hand to cover his mouth for a moment. ‘…And her smile that lit up every room.’
