Anne Holt - Fear Not

He parked by the gate and walked up to the front door.

From inside he could hear the sound of a child crying, followed by an exhausted groan from someone he assumed to be Lukas’s wife. A pathetic little miaow made him move back at the bottom of the stone steps and look up. On the porch roof sat a small tabby. When he met its green eyes, the cat crept silently over to the drainpipe, down the wall, and managed to slide into the house just as the door opened.

‘Good morning,’ said Adam, holding out his hand as he climbed the three steps.

Astrid Tomte Lysgaard stared at him in surprise.

‘Morning,’ she said uncertainly, shaking his hand.

‘Adam Stubo. From NCIS. I’m working on the investigation into your mother-in-law’s murder and-’

‘I know who you are,’ said Astrid, making no move to let him in. ‘But Lukas isn’t here.’

‘Oh. Has he already left for work?’

‘Possibly. He spent the night at his father’s house.’

‘I see.’

Adam smiled. Astrid Tomte Lysgaard wasn’t yet dressed for the day. Her dressing gown was too big, and the milk-white legs revealed that she was as thin as a rake. Her eyes were surrounded by dry wrinkles, and the bags under her eyes were all too evident for a woman of her age.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, spreading her hands wide in a weary gesture. ‘We’re running a bit late this morning, so if there’s nothing else…’

A three-year-old stuck his head out from behind her.

‘Hello,’ the boy said in a friendly tone of voice. ‘My name is William, and Grandma is all dead.’

‘My name is Adam. I’m a policeman. Was that your cat I saw just now?’

‘Yes. Her name is Borghild.’

The boy couldn’t pronounce the name properly, and said ‘Boygil’.

Adam’s smile grew even wider.

‘That’s a good name for a beautiful fat cat,’ he nodded. ‘I think you’d better go and get dressed now. You’ll be off to nursery soon, won’t you?’

‘Did you hear that?’ Astrid gave a wan smile and ruffled her son’s hair. ‘The policeman says you have to go and get dressed. We have to do what a policeman tells us, don’t we?’

The boy turned and scampered away at once.

‘How are you doing?’ Adam asked quietly.

She still made no move to let him in, but nor did she close the door.

‘Oh, you know.’ The tears were threatening to spill over. ‘It’s hard for Lukas,’ she said, wiping her left eye with a rapid movement. ‘Losing Eva Karin is one thing. But it’s almost as bad seeing Erik so…’

Her hands were slender, with long, thin fingers. Her arms were wrapped around her upper body, and she kept tucking her hair behind one ear over and over again with a nervous movement.

‘And Lukas has got it into his head that…’

A car sounded its horn on the street. Adam turned and saw a car pulling out of next-door’s drive with the back seat full of children; the driver was waving to Astrid, who raised her hand slightly in response.

‘What has Lukas got into his head?’ Adam asked when she didn’t go on.

‘I… I don’t really know.’

Borghild appeared in the doorway, rubbing around her bare legs.

‘I really do have to go,’ she said, taking a step back. ‘I’ve got to get the kids ready for school and nursery. I’m sorry you’ve come all the way out here for nothing.’

‘It’s not your fault!’ Adam walked backwards down the steps. ‘Sorry to have disturbed you,’ he said. ‘I know exactly what these mornings are like.’

Astrid closed the door without another word. Adam walked back to the hire car and unlocked it with the remote. He got in and fiddled with the idiotic card Renault had decided was better than an ignition key. He inserted it into the slot and pressed the start button. Nothing happened.

Work, you bastard!

He snatched out the card and banged it hard against the dashboard before repeating the entire procedure. The engine started.

After he had been driving for five minutes with the intention of going back to Bergen, he changed his mind and decided to head over to Nubbebakken instead. Seeking Lukas out at the university would seem too dramatic. Astrid had made it clear that Erik’s condition was deteriorating, so Lukas might have decided to stay with his father rather than go to work.

He increased his speed.

It had started to rain, and behind the heavy cloud cover the sun had just started to colour the world grey.

Lukas was woken by the fact that the roof light was no longer black, but a sooty grey. His right arm was completely numb. He had twisted and turned in the armchair and fallen asleep on it. When the circulation returned it was as if he had stuck his hand in a wasps’ nest. It stung and ached, and he pulled a face as he stood up and started to shake his arm so violently that his shoulder protested.

It was already ten past nine in the morning, on Tuesday 13 January.

He should have been at a departmental meeting at nine o’clock. When he checked the display on his mobile, there were five missed calls: three from a colleague who would be at the same meeting, and two from Astrid.

He just hoped she hadn’t tried calling his father’s landline as well. It was unlikely; she couldn’t stand talking to her father-in-law at the moment.

He quickly stretched his body from side to side to shake off the aches and pains of the night.

There wasn’t a sound from downstairs. Perhaps his father was still asleep.

The photograph of his sister was still safe inside his shirt. It was bent, but not creased. He tightened his belt in order to keep the photograph in place before climbing the ladder and opening the roof light.

It was a miserable January morning.

Everything was wet. All the colours were in hibernation. The oak tree stood out, a black relief against the grey. Lukas wriggled through the narrow opening and pulled the rest of his body up using his arms. Once he was on the roof, he sat there for a few moments gasping for breath. He pushed his heels well in between the rungs of the chimney sweep’s ladder and felt significantly more frightened than he had done when he was a boy. When he was halfway down to the gutter, he heard a car approaching. He stiffened.

The engine was switched off and a car door opened and closed.

The gate squealed and Lukas could clearly hear footsteps approaching his father’s front door.

Someone rang the bell. He heard the sound from below, muted and distorted through two floors, but still clear. So far he hadn’t even dared to move his eyes, but eventually he looked down. From where he was sitting he could just see the little porch and the stone steps, with the metal grille at the bottom for wiping shoes.

He immediately saw who it was.

At last the door opened.

Lukas held his breath, his eyes firmly fixed on the man down below. If Adam Stubo should look up, he would see him at once.

The voices were crystal-clear.

‘Good morning,’ said the police officer. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m trying to get hold of Lukas. I just wanted to go over a couple of points with him. Is he here?’

As usual his father’s voice was expressionless and uninterested.

‘No.’

‘No? It’s just that I spoke to his wife and…’

Stubo took a step back. Lukas closed his eyes.

‘I do apologize,’ said the big man down below. ‘I could have phoned, of course. How are you? Is there anything we can-?’

‘I’m fine,’ his father interrupted, then the door slammed shut.

Lukas was already soaked to the skin. He had left his outdoor clothes in the car, and the ice-cold rain was hitting the nape of his neck and running down his back. Instinctively, he leaned forward to protect the photograph. He opened his eyes again.