Karin Fossum - The Water's Edge

'Please can we go to Pris?' he asked.

'Not this weekend,' his mother said. 'Now charge your mobile,' she added. 'Do it right now. You're always forgetting to charge it.'

Edwin planted his hands on the armrests and pushed himself into an upright position. It was heavy going. He could feel Ingemar's eyes on his back as he went out into the kitchen. He was going to fetch his mobile from the bottom of his school bag, but he was distracted by the lollies in the freezer. The couple in the living room had already forgotten about him. He was acting on a mixture of grief and defiance as he gobbled down the lolly, standing by the kitchen window.

His massive body was clearly reflected in the glass.

September 10th.

Edwin Åsalid was reported missing at seven o'clock in the evening exactly. By then Tulla Åsalid had been waiting for four hours, she had looked for him everywhere and she had wept. She had thought about Jonas August, and she was about to lose her mind.

'Paedophiles often follow a pattern,' Sejer said. 'They roam around, they carry out an assault and then they flee. I know what you fear, but this could be something else. There are many other explanations.'

Tulla Åsalid had been standing by the window. Now she turned around and looked at him.

'He's not able to move very quickly,' she said anxiously. 'I mean, if anyone's chasing him.'

Sejer and Skarre tried to understand what she was telling them. She went over to a chest of drawers to fetch a photograph. Sejer noticed that her hand was trembling.

'Take a look at this picture,' she said, 'and you'll know what I mean.'

They leaned forward to see. It was a full-length photo of Edwin with a small cottage in the background, and his reluctance to be photographed was obvious from his evasive eyes. He was without a doubt the largest ten-year-old they had ever seen. Yet there was something remarkable about him; he had inherited his mother's looks, his skin was pale like marzipan, his eyes large and dark. Despite his obesity, he was a handsome lad with big brown curls.

'Where does he tend to go?' Sejer asked. 'In his spare time.'

'They often go down to Loch Bonna,' she said, 'to Guttestranda. That was the first place I looked. I looked for them on the beach and on the jetty.'

'Is he able to swim?'

'No.'

'Has he ever been late before?'

'Never.'

She fell silent. They could hear how she swallowed.

'He tires easily,' she went on. 'If anyone offered him a lift, he would probably accept it because he's very unfit. He only moves when he has to, and he spends most of his time indoors, in front of his computer, munching something or other. So when he finally decided to go outside and get some fresh air I was overjoyed, despite what's happened, despite this business with Jonas, but he was meeting some friends and so I felt safe. I can't keep him locked up in here for ever. He sometimes sees Sindre or Sverre and Isak and I've tried calling them, but no one's at home at Sverre's or Sindre's, and Isak's parents are ex-directory. And, of course, I've been trying his mobile, but it was at the bottom of his school bag, I've told him time and time again that he must always take it with him, but he's so forgetful.'

She stopped to catch her breath.

Sejer stayed calm. They had speculated that this might happen, that another boy might go missing, but it had only been a police hypothesis, a scenario they had never really thought possible because it represented a type of offending which only happened elsewhere, in other countries. Under corrupt regimes, places marred by poverty and desperation like Russia, where the kidnapping of young boys was large-scale.

'We need to take this step by step,' Sejer said, 'and it's possible that Edwin might come home while we sit here talking. We've seen it so many times and I'm sure he'll have a good explanation when he finally shows up.'

He could tell she was trying hard to believe him, that she needed a strong voice, an assurance which could stem this tide of fear.

'He hasn't had anything to eat for several hours,' she burst out, 'and he can't manage without food for very long!'

Sejer started wandering around the room. There were several photographs of Edwin on the walls, but they were not recent, and he could see clearly how his weight had increased year by year. One of the photographs showed Edwin as a toddler sitting on a man's lap, and he asked Tulla Åsalid about Edwin's father.

'He lives in Germany,' she replied. 'In Munich, he has a new family.'

It had to have been Tulla Åsalid who had ended the relationship, Sejer thought. She appealed to all of his senses and despite the circumstances she retained a sensuality which could not be ignored. He continued wandering around. The living room was elegantly furnished. She had several paintings on the walls, good ones too. There were oriental rugs on the floor, cream-coloured curtains, and a scarlet blanket had been casually thrown across the sofa. Behind all of this lay only one clear thought: everything was irrelevant now. They were nothing but inanimate objects. Out of the corner of his eye Sejer could see Skarre making notes. Tulla listed names and addresses, she ran off to find more telephone numbers. She told them about Ingemar, her boyfriend. She had been trying to get through to him for hours and finally succeeded. When she heard his voice, she broke down completely.

Sejer looked outside in case Edwin appeared on the road, massive with his dark, curly hair. He had experienced it before, he had seen the passionate reunion between a mother and her child when all dark nightmares had been slain. That was how he wanted it to turn out, he beseeched fate for a happy ending. For one horrifying moment he imagined child number three going missing and how the pressure from the public and the media would make his world collapse. He imagined criticism and being incapable of making decisions, endless press conferences with barrages of questions and condemnation and sleepless nights. He looked at a shelf with books, his eyes scanned their spines. Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence, The Conquerors by Roy Jacobsen, the Koran. On another shelf was a silver-plated infant's shoe and a piggy bank. His mobile started vibrating in his pocket and he answered it, still standing by the window.

'Yes,' he said, 'that's correct. No, he's still missing, we'll stay here until her boyfriend arrives, he's on his way and he'll stay the night. We're calling Edwin's friends at regular intervals, we're having trouble getting hold of them. We've got two cars out looking, but we haven't heard from them yet. Yes, we'll pop in. That's fine.'

He put the mobile back in his pocket. Thirty minutes later they greeted Ingemar Brenner. Tulla collapsed sobbing in his arms. They said goodbye for the time being and headed back to the station. Five kilometres later they drove through the centre of Huseby. Skarre had a map in his lap and was trying to familiarise himself with the area.

'There's a new development to the west of Loch Bonna,' he said, 'and the roads there have quite unusual names. Someone from the council must have a vivid imagination. Listen to this. Detour and Shortcut. Sideline. First Exit. Last Exit. And this is the winner,' he said. 'There's a tiny little lane here called Naughty Corner.'

'I've heard of that one,' Sejer said.

'Where do you live?' Skarre joked. 'I live in the Naughty Corner and have done so all my life.' He folded up the map. 'I can't believe I just said that,' he said, embarrassed.

'Why not?'

'We might be dealing with an incredibly dangerous man and here I am making stupid jokes.'

'It's all right to have a bit of fun at work,' Sejer said. 'We don't need to feel bad about that.'

'Thank you.'