Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘But what if it isn’t Lísa?’ Matthew looked at Thóra. ‘Aren’t we focusing too hard on trying to see what we want to see? We don’t actually know that he witnessed anything at all, and maybe it wasn’t even possible to see her bed through the doorway of her apartment. We should maybe check all the facts before we go any further with this interpretation.’ He looked at the clock and stood up. ‘Well, I’d better get going.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Don’t you want to ask me what I’m going to say to them?’

She shook her head. ‘Take me to dinner after the meeting and tell me about it then. Today is going to be a short one for me anyway because I can’t meet Jósteinn until tomorrow, and I’m not going to write any more in this report until after I’ve seen him.’ She blew him a kiss and wished him luck. Then she watched him walk out of the office and wondered whether this would be one of the last times that she did so.

To distract herself until he returned, Thóra decided to have a look at the Facebook page again. She’d had enough of the two drawings for the moment. Something was bothering her about Lena’s story of her night-time visit to the care home, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was just by thinking about their conversation. Hopefully looking at the photos would inspire her. She particularly wanted to have a look at the photo of Bjarki Emil, in case that was what was bothering her. To her great surprise, several of the photos made her realize what it was that wasn’t right.

‘So, they did know each other after all?’ Matthew dutifully stayed in the right-hand lane, though they were unlikely to meet another car as they drove slowly through the convoluted grid of streets.

‘I don’t know whether they knew each other, necessarily, but they were certainly at the residence on the same night, and probably at the same time.’ She pointed out a snowdrift in the middle of the roundabout that they were approaching, then continued: ‘You remember she said she’d gone there with her drunk friend, along with another friend of theirs who drove? He was in the photo with Friðleifur and Margeir where Lena is visible in the background, which makes me want to know who actually took the photo. Hardly the dead-drunk girl if what Lena said is true – that the photo was taken while she was on oxygen. Which means there was someone else there, and I think it was this Bjarki Emil.’

‘Just because Friðleifur and Margeir are in the same clothes in the photo with Lena as they were in the one with Bjarki Emil?’ Matthew drove carefully past the snowdrift. ‘Maybe neither of them had that many clothes, and it’s just a coincidence that they were wearing the same both times.’

‘You think it’s likely both of them were wearing exactly the same clothing, and I mean exactly ? Margeir’s trousers were sagging on one side in both photos, and his shirt was hanging out in the same place. No, I think they either met there by accident or they went there together – and the latter seems more likely to me. In fact I discovered that they’re both enrolled at the university, in the same department and the same year. That’s too much of a coincidence, in my opinion. So she should have recognized him when we showed her the photograph of him. I don’t know exactly what this means, but I think it’s rather odd.’

‘Yes, it certainly is that.’ Matthew turned into the driveway that led to the charred remains of the residence. In front of the ruined building was a car that appeared to be abandoned. ‘What’s going on here?’ Matthew stopped immediately, only a few metres up the driveway. ‘Do you want me to drive up to the building or should we call the police? We can always come back later to check whether Lísa’s bed was visible from her doorway.’

‘No, let’s find out what’s going on.’ Thóra tried to work out what the car could be doing there, but she didn’t recognize it. No one she’d met in connection with the case drove a battered old banger like this.

Matthew inched forward again, this time with the headlights off so the visitor would be less likely to notice them. It could of course be a car that someone had left behind some time ago, but the snowless windscreen suggested otherwise. ‘Maybe it’s someone from the Regional Office monitoring the place?’

‘I doubt it. Drive a little closer but not too close, so that whoever this is doesn’t spot us. It can’t hurt for us to keep quiet.’

Matthew parked the car a short distance away so that the crunching of the snow beneath the tyres wouldn’t be audible. They opened their doors carefully, stepped as gently as they could to the ground and turned in the direction of the blackened building. Thóra felt as if she’d never been surrounded by such silence; they had the wind at their backs, so they couldn’t hide behind the distant whine of traffic that was coming from the other direction.

By the time they’d finally inched their way up to the boarded-up door they’d first stood in front of several days ago, Thóra’s heart had started to pound in her chest; the need for secrecy had made her nervous and the tension seemed to grow with each cautious step. Matthew had silently pointed out some tracks that led from the abandoned car alongside the house, disappearing at the door. She crossed her fingers in the hope that the driver wasn’t waiting on the other side of the wall with a baseball bat. It was clear to her that if this person was the one who had started the fire, then he or she had already killed several people, meaning that two more corpses weren’t going to make much difference – the sentence would be the same. There weren’t many things worse than encountering a person who had nothing to lose and Thóra suddenly regretted not following Matthew’s advice and turning back.

Matthew leaned over to her and whispered so quietly that she could barely hear him. ‘Wait here. There’s no reason for us both to go in. It just doubles our chances of being heard.’ Thóra shook her head emphatically, despite her earlier doubts. She stretched up to his ear and tried to whisper just as softly as him: ‘We’ll stick together. It’ll double our chances of restraining him, or her, if we end up in a fight.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Matthew was so offended that he hissed in her ear: ‘You add maybe thirty per cent, if that. Closer to twenty-five.’

They stopped making calculations when they heard footsteps inside the abandoned building. The floor must still be awash with water because at each step there was a splash. The sound was amplified in the empty concrete shell, creating a hollow echo. As far as Thóra’s senses could tell her, someone was heading towards them. ‘I’d forgotten the water,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll be heard as soon as we set foot in there.’

Matthew nodded. He raised his hand to his ear and with a simple gesture motioned to Thóra to step aside and get ready to call the police. Thóra rummaged in her bag for her phone, hearing the footsteps approaching rapidly at the same time. They seemed to have reached the doorway before she could manage to hide. She and Matthew froze when the loose board was pushed away and a jeans-clad leg ending in a cheap trainer stepped out. This was followed by a man’s torso, and finally his head. He saw them immediately, and for a moment he stood as motionless as them before suddenly scrambling back inside. Thóra was much too agitated to be able to think clearly, but the face was familiar even though it took her several seconds to place it – it was Margeir, who’d worked the night shift with Friðleifur. As this was sinking in Matthew disappeared into the blackened ruins behind him. The splashing inside suggested that a frantic pursuit was taking place, and Thóra hoped that it was Matthew chasing Margeir and not the other way round. After a brief deliberation she pushed her way in after them.