Karin Fossum - Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

"The first few days?"

"Don't forget to breathe. Don't give them anything, Gøran, play your cards calmly and with dignity. If you lose control, he'll attack you at once. He looks kind and mild-mannered, but he's out to get you. He believes you killed this woman. That you smashed her head out of pure fury because something else in your life, something she wasn't a part of, had gone wrong. You don't like being rejected, do you?"

"Well, I don't suppose you'd bloody like it either," Gøran flared up. Then he closed his eyes. "I spent loads of money on Ulla. Went wherever she wanted to go, bought her presents. Paid for everything, the cinema and the café, though she earns her own money. And then all of a sudden she can't be bothered any more."

"Well, we don't send bills to our ex-lovers, do we?"

"I would if I could!" he said angrily.

"Were you fond of her?"

Gøran remembered to count to three. "You get used to people. After such a long time."

Friis looked out of the window as though hoping that someone there might be able to help him.

"Yes. Used to. You were used to her being there for you. When she left, you felt deserted. Am I right?"

"I still had Lillian."

"Did you want to hit someone?"

"I've never hit Ulla," he shouted. "Not ever. Has she said so?"

"No. But the police will claim that you hit someone else in an attempt to relieve your aggression. That you happened to meet Poona and that you destroyed her. Alone in a foreign country. Small and delicate." Friis took out his notebook and his pen. "Let's go through that day, the 20th, from when you got up in the morning till you went to bed that night. Every hour of the day. I need a full account. Take your time, and don't leave anything out."

"I thought this was what the police did?"

"They'll do that as well. And let me add: it is essential that the two stories add up. Do you understand me?"

"I was with Lillian," Gøran said.

Is it my fault? Linda thought. It didn't trouble her too much. They could lock up Gøran, or Nudel or Mode, or anyone, she didn't care. She went to bed saying she had a bad migraine, her mum couldn't make her go to college. She lay staring at the spider in the ceiling and had practically stopped eating. She felt wonderfully light and weak, almost dreamy. Her mum got in her truck and left. She didn't know that Linda got up then and cycled to Gunwald's shop to buy the papers. They still wrote about the case, especially since Gøran's arrest. But Gøran had not done it. The man in the outhouse was much taller. His voice was different, too. So they would have to let him go. Perhaps he wanted to take revenge on her for what she had said about the car. But she didn't even have the strength to be afraid. She fantasised during the long hours she spent in bed. In her mind she had been kidnapped by a cruel and cynical criminal. She was kept hostage in a sinister house, while Jacob crept in through the back door with a loaded gun and freed her, risking his own life in the process. There were several variations of this fantasy. Sometimes Jacob was shot and then she would put his head in her lap and wipe the blood from his temple. Sometimes she herself was shot. Then he would call out her name over and over. Cradle her. Put his hand on her heart and call out, trying to reach her. The variations were endless and she never tired of it. She wondered if Jacob had his own gun or whether they were all kept at the station and had to be signed in and out. If it was possible to get a weapon for self-defence. You could never be too careful. And when Gøran came out… She closed her eyes. Her neck ached. Her back, too, she had been lying down too long. She almost enjoyed this aching, liked being tormented by something. She lay very still and suffered for her great love.

There's a way through to every human being. That's what I'm looking for, Sejer thought. The vulnerable soul hiding beyond the steely body. He couldn't go wading in. It was a case of reaching a point where Gøran would invite him in himself. That would take time.

As he approached the room where Gøran was waiting, he thought of Kollberg. The operation finished and coming round from the anaesthetic. He wouldn't be able to stand up yet.

Gøran sat behind the table, looking tense.

"Now it's our turn," Sejer said, smiling. He rarely smiled, but Gøran was not to know that. There were bottles of Farris mineral water and Coca-Cola on the table. It was actually a nice room, with cosy lighting and comfortable chairs.

"Before we begin you need to know the following…" Sejer looked at him. "You have the right to have someone present throughout the interrogation. Such as Friis. You have the right to rest whenever you're tired. Food and drink when you're hungry. If you want to break off the interrogation, you can leave the room at any time and return to your cell. Is what I'm saying quite clear?"

"Yes," Gøran said, surprised at all the things he was entitled to.

"Did you get on well with Friis?" Sejer asked. Friendly, Gøran thought, almost paternal. Trying to build trust. He is the enemy. Breathe, he thought. One, two, three.

"I don't have much to compare with. I've never needed a lawyer before."

"Friis is good, just so you know. You're a young man full of energy, so you'll get the best. It won't even cost you anything. Others will be picking up the bill."

"You mean taxpayers?" Gøran said with sudden irony. He forgot to breathe.

"Correct," Sejer said. "That's what it means to live in a democracy."

"If this really is a democracy, then I'll be out before the day is over," Gøran said. "Just because I had something to hide from you doesn't mean that I killed this woman."

"Tell me what it means," Sejer said.

Gøran thought of Lillian. "I was stupid trying to protect a married woman," he said bitterly. "I should have told you straightaway that I was with Lillian."

"Lillian says you weren't," Sejer said.

"Lillian is a cunt!" He got halfway up from the chair, but slumped down again. "I don't understand why women won't own up to what they do in bed," he said, exasperated. "They get horny too. They just won't admit it."

"It's harder for a woman," Sejer said. "For all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it's used against them. However, as you're a man then it's quite all right."

He poured drinks into two glasses and pushed one towards him.

"Let it go, Gøran. Let's talk about something else. We've got plenty of time. The house you live in, it's a lovely place. Have you lived there all your life?"

"Yes."

"How was it to grow up in Elvestad?"

"Well, it's not exactly Las Vegas." Gøran smiled without meaning to. Friis had told him to answer the questions, and nothing beyond that, but chatting was easier.

"Perhaps you dreamed of being somewhere else?"

"Sometimes," he said. "A flat in Oslo, maybe. But the rent would eat up my wages."

"But you're good at finding things to do. You're busy, aren't you? You've got your job and you work out a lot. You spend time with your friends. Have you always been doing that well?"

Gøran was not used to being told that he was successful. Now that he thought about it, it was entirely justified. "I've been working out since I was fifteen."

"I do a fair bit of running myself," Sejer told him. "So my stamina's good. But I'm probably not very strong."

"That's interesting," Gøran said. "Most people live in complete ignorance of their own strength. Because they never use it. If I was to ask you: how much can you lift? I'd bet you wouldn't know."

"You're right," Sejer said, and smiled shamefacedly. "I have no idea. Should I know?"

"Hell, yes! It's important to know what you're capable of."

"You're saying that it's important to know yourself."