Karin Fossum - Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

Karlsen paused. "Snorrason is on his way," he repeated.

"Who lives in the house over there?" Sejer nodded towards the wood.

"Ole Gunwald. Shopkeeper in Elvestad, he owns the one-stop shop in the middle of the village. He's closed today on account of a migraine. We've already spoken to him. He was home yesterday evening and last night. Around 9 p.m. he heard muted cries and later a car revving its engine. By the time he got up it had driven off. A while later the same thing happened again. Faint cries and the slamming of a car door. He also remembers that the dog barked. It's tied up in the yard."

Sejer looked again at the woman in the grass. This time the shock was less and in the pulp of shattered bones and muscles he could discern a screaming face. The skin on her neck was almost intact and he saw that it was golden brown. The black plait, as thick as her wrists, was apparently untouched. Intact and beautiful. Held together with a red band.

"And the woman who phoned?" He looked at Karlsen.

"She's waiting in one of our cars."

"What state is she in?"

"She's OK," he said and once more swept his hand across his mouth, the moustache now in a very sorry state. There was a silence for a moment while they all waited.

"We need to set up a hotline," Sejer said decisively. "At once. Door-to-door enquiries must begin immediately. Also talk to all the onlookers down there, including the kids. Skarre: put on some shoe protectors and walk every metre of the meadow. Walk in a tight spiral. Start down by the road. Take Philip and Siw with you. They can follow you. Anything you miss they'll spot. If you're in doubt as to whether something should be bagged, then bag it. Don't forget to wear gloves. Afterwards you'll set markers wherever you see blood traces and flattened grass. We need two people on duty for the rest of today and the next twenty-four hours. To begin with. Karlsen! Call the station and ask them to get a map of the area. A large-scale one and as detailed as possible. If you can, get hold of someone local who knows about any paths that might not be on the map. Soot! There is a cart track going into the wood at the opposite side of the road. Find out where it leads to. Keep your eyes peeled."

Everyone in the group nodded. Sejer turned once more to the body. Squatted down and stared at her. Let his gaze wander slowly over the remains of her face. He tried to make everything stay fixed. He tried not to breathe. She was dressed in something foreign, turquoise. A flimsy, long-sleeved dress over flimsy, billowing trousers. The fabric looked to be silk. But the thing he was most preoccupied with was a beautiful piece of jewellery. A filigree brooch. It surprised him. A Norwegian national costume brooch. So familiar and yet so strange on this exotic clothing. It was difficult to speculate where she came from because the face was so damaged and he could not make out her features. She could be born and brought up in Norway, or it could be her first visit. One gold sandal had slipped off her foot. He found a stick in the grass and flipped it over. There was blood on the sole, but he could detect three letters. NDI. The clothing made him think of India or Pakistan. He took his mobile from his pocket and phoned the station. No women were reported missing. Yet. A few metres from the body lay a yellow bag. An odd, furry thing shaped like a banana. It had a zip and was to be worn around the waist. Astonishingly, it was perfectly clean. He speared the bag to the ground with the stick and using two fingers unzipped it. Lipstick. Mirror. Paper tissues. Coins. Nothing else. No purse or papers. Nothing about who she was. Her nails were painted blood red. She wore two silver rings, not very valuable ones. There were no pockets in the dress, but perhaps there were labels on her clothes. But for the time being he could touch nothing. She is the unidentified victim, he thought. Until someone calls and asks about her. On the air, on the radio and television and all the newspapers she will just be "the unidentified victim".

As he went back down the pathway between the plastic strips he glanced at the three officers walking up and down the meadow. They looked like children playing follow-my-leader. Each time Skarre stopped and knelt down so did the others. He could see Skarre's transparent plastic bag and that there was already something in it. Then he made for the police car. The woman who had found the body was waiting for him. He greeted her, got into the car and drove a hundred metres or so further down the road and then stopped. The people standing by the road stared at them. He opened the window so that fresh air could circulate in the car.

"Tell me how it was," he said calmly.

The firm voice helped her. She nodded and put a hand over her mouth. The fear of the words she had to find and say out loud shone from her eyes.

"Do you want me to start right from the beginning?'' she said.

"Yes, please," he said steadily.

"I came here to pick mushrooms. There are many brittlegills around Gunwald's house. He doesn't mind me picking them, he can't be bothered himself. He's often ill," she explained. "I had a basket on my arm. I came just after nine in the evening." She paused for a moment, then she said, "I came from that side." She pointed towards the road. "I turned off the road and walked along the edge of the wood. Everything was quiet. Then I noticed something dark in the grass some distance out in the meadow. It worried me a little. But I went on and began picking mushrooms. Gunwald's dog barked, as it always does when it hears someone. I thought of this dark thing, whatever it was. It made me feel uncomfortable and when I moved I kept my back to it. It's strange when you think about it. As if I knew everything all at once, but refused to believe it. I found many brittlegills – by the way, where's my basket?" She gave Sejer a perplexed look, before pulling herself together and carrying on. "Not that I care about the mushrooms. That wasn't what I meant. I was just thinking of the basket-"

"We'll find the basket," he said.

"I found quite a few chanterelles, too. Saw that there were plenty of blueberries. I thought that I would come and pick those another day. I was there for half an hour. When I was ready to leave, for some reason I didn't want to walk past the dark thing in the grass. So I kept to the edge…"

"Yes?" he said.

"But I couldn't help looking at it anyway. It looked like a big bag of rubbish, one of those black bin bags. I wanted to go on, but stopped again. It looked as if some of the rubbish was spilling out. Or, it crossed my mind, perhaps it was a large dead animal. I took a few steps back. I don't know how far away I was when I noticed her long plait. Then I saw her hair band. It was then that I knew what it was." She stopped talking and shook her head incredulously. Sejer did not want to interrupt her.

"A hair band. And then I ran," she said. "Straight to Gunwald's house. Banged on his door. Screamed that we had to phone. That there was a body in the meadow. Gunwald got so frightened. He's not young any more. So I waited on his sofa. He's sitting there still, all on his own. It isn't far from his house. Surely she must have screamed?"

"He only heard faint cries."

"I suppose his TV was on," she said, fearful herself.

"Perhaps. Where is your house?"

"Closer to the middle of Elvestad."

He nodded and handed her his mobile phone.

"Perhaps there's someone you'd like to call?"

"No."

"You need to come down to the station. It could take a while. But we'll give you a lift home."

"I've got plenty of time."

He looked at her and cleared his throat carefully.

"Have you looked under your shoes?"

She gave him a baffled look, unsure of what he meant. Bent down and slipped them off; they were light summer shoes with a white rubber sole. "There's blood on them," she said fearfully. "I don't understand. I was so far away."