Karin Fossum - He Who Fears The Wolf

"A little pond. Perfect. I'm sure we can have a swim down there."

He stuck his head out through the broken window and nodded. Errki felt exhausted. He took a few tentative steps towards the bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Morgan looked at him.

Errki opened the door and stared for a moment at the striped mattress, then tore off his jacket and T-shirt and toppled on to the bed.

"Jesus. A bed!" Morgan smiled. "This is fine with me. Go ahead and take a nap. At least I'll know where you are."

Errki didn't reply. He thought it would be best if he went to sleep, because death and misery were the only things accompanying him, and a person asleep can't commit any sins. He took deep, steady breaths.

"You've been a first-class guide. I'll talk to you later."

To be safe, he checked the window in the bedroom to see whether Errki would be able to escape that way. The glass was broken, but the frame was still intact, and the window was jammed shut. If Errki tried to open it, he would hear him.

Morgan left the room. When his footsteps could no longer be heard, Errki opened his eyes. He was lying on something sharp and hard, so he moved over a bit. It was the gun.

The hospital loomed into view between the trees, its presence so forceful that for a moment it took Sejer's breath away. He pulled over on to the shoulder of the road, stopped the car, and got out. He stood there for a while, looking up at the building, letting it sink in, feeling as if it were screaming at him: THIS IS SERIOUS!

It stood on the highest point in the area. This was the way a psychiatric hospital should look, as if to show everyone that the path back to sanity was not an easy one. If they didn't know this before, those who came here in the deepest despair would know it now, as they were led inside this monstrosity of an institution.

The road was poorly maintained, narrow and full of holes. Years had passed since he was last there, and he had thought it would have been improved and widened, but that hadn't happened. He remembered when, as a young officer, he had brought a girl here. They had found her locked in the ladies' room at the bus station, naked. They broke down the door. Her face was contorted with fear. In her hand she held a roll of toilet paper, and she started eating the paper, as if it held something of crucial importance, secret information that she had to protect. His hand had hung in mid-air between them, and she stared at it as if it were a claw. He was holding a blanket that he wanted to put around her shoulders. He talked to her in a soft voice, and although she listened, it was as if she heard him through a terrible noise and was straining hard to catch his words. Her face told its own story. He had come to mete out a vicious punishment. His words, his assurances, his gentle voice, all of these things simply fell away. And so he had to do what he least wanted to do: use force to remove her. He still remembered her screams, and her thin, sharp shoulders.

The Beacon was an impressive building, but up close some of its authority was diminished by its state of disrepair. The red bricks had faded and were with time taking on a greyish shade, like the asphalt below. It was sinking slowly into eternity. And yet it was imposing, maybe only because of the magnificent sunlight. It wasn't hard for him to imagine that in different weather, in the winter when the trees spread out their bare branches and the wind and rain battered the windows, the place would look like Dracula's castle. The roof was topped by a copper tower covered in verdigris. The façade was ornate, but the windows were narrow and high, not matching the style of the rest of the building. The front entrance was an attractive arch with its own staircase. Next to it was a classic hospital entrance with big glass doors that would allow an ambulance to drive up and a stretcher to be rolled in.

Sejer went inside. Without noticing, he walked right past the reception desk.

"Excuse me? Where are you going?" a young woman called after him.

"I'm sorry. Police. I need to talk to Dr Struel."

Sejer showed her his ID.

"You have to go up to the second floor and ask there."

He thanked her and went upstairs. On the second floor he asked again and was shown into a waiting room with a window facing the garden and woods. The ban on garden watering didn't seem to apply to this area because the huge lawns were as dark green velvet. Maybe they should be using that money on other things. He couldn't imagine that the lawns made much difference to those who lived here. As he thought this, he turned around abruptly because he had an uneasy sensation that someone was watching him.

A woman was standing in the open door.

"I'm Dr Struel," she said.

They shook hands.

"Let's go to my office."

He followed her down the corridor and into a spacious room, where she offered him a seat on the sofa. He sat down in a flood of sunlight and at once he began to sweat profusely. The doctor went over to the window and stood there for a moment with her back turned, staring out at the lawn, fiddling a bit with a drooping pot plant that obviously wasn't thriving.

"So," she said as she turned around, "you're the man who's looking for my Errki?"

My Errki. There was something very touching about the way she said it. Without a trace of irony.

"Is that how you see him?"

"No-one else wants him," she said simply. "Yes, he's mine. My responsibility, my job. Whether he killed the old woman or not, he will still be mine."

"Who have you talked to about this?"

"Officer Gurvin called. But I really have a hard time believing it," she said. "I'm telling you this now so you'll know where I stand. Let him stay out there for a while, and he'll come back on his own."

"I don't think he's coming back on his own."

His solemn tone made her realise something was wrong.

"What do you mean? Has anything happened to him?"

"How much did Officer Gurvin tell you?"

"He told me about the murder at Finnemarka, that Errki was seen in the vicinity of the house at what he called a crucial time."

"Not just in the vicinity. He was at her farm. So you can see why we have to find him. It's a pretty isolated place."

"It's typical for Errki to head for the woods. He tries to avoid people. And with good reason."

She was being awfully curt. Sejer felt something rise up inside him. Annoyance.

"Forgive my arrogance," he said slowly, "but I actually do have to take the possibility that he is guilty into consideration. It was a vicious crime and a meaningless one, since it seems as though the only thing missing from her house is a wallet containing a few kroner. Whoever did this is walking around free. People living in the area are frightened."

"Errki is always blamed," she said.

"But he was seen near her house, after all, and she lived in a remote area. It isn't exactly overrun with passers-by. And since he is mentally ill, we can't ignore the fact that he might have something to do with her death."

"Do you mean that he's under greater suspicion because he's ill?"

"Well, I-"

"You're mistaken. The most he does is shoplift. Chocolate and things like that."

"There are lots of stories about him."

"Just that. Stories."

"And there's no basis for them? Is that what you think?"

She didn't reply.

"But this is only half the story," he went on. "This morning there was a robbery. An armed robbery at Fokus Bank."

She burst out laughing. "Honestly, Errki doesn't have enough discipline to carry out anything that requires a lot of effort. You just lost your credibility."

"I'm not finished," he said sharply. He didn't like her last remark.

"The bank was robbed by a young man who might be a little younger than Errki. He was wearing dark clothes and a ski mask, which means, of course, that we haven't yet identified him. But the present problem is that he took a hostage. Someone from inside the bank. Using a gun, he forced the hostage into his car and disappeared. This hostage has been identified as Errki Johrma."