Arnaldur Indridason - Outrage

‘I see. The car’s been here for a while. It was parked in front of the church gate so we had to move it, but we haven’t been able to trace the driver. I mean, it’s all right, but I felt I should check, since it was left there — by the churchyard.’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you at all.’

‘No, well, never mind. Thank you.’

‘Goodbye.’

Elínborg switched on the lights in the kitchen, living room and bedroom of Runólfur’s flat. She thought about the phone call from Eskifjördur but did not know what to make of it.

The crime scene had not been disturbed. Now Elínborg knew exactly what had taken place that night: how Nína had been brought there; how Valdimar, on his quest for revenge, had disturbed Runólfur during the rape; how Konrád had arrived on the scene to find his daughter in a state of confusion and despair. Elínborg could not make up her mind: had Runólfur got what he deserved? She did not really believe in poetic justice.

Elínborg had only a vague idea of what she was looking for; although she did not expect to find anything, she felt it was worth a try. Forensics had already combed through Runólfur’s home but Elínborg was looking for evidence of a different nature.

Starting in the kitchen, she opened every drawer and cupboard, examining pots and pans, bowls and cutlery. She searched the fridge and the freezer, stirred through an old tub of vanilla ice cream, went through the contents of a small wardrobe by the entrance, checked under the fuse-box cover and tapped at the parquet floor, looking for a secret hiding place. She ransacked the living room, turned an armchair upside down, removed all the cushions, took every item from the shelves. She examined the collectible superhero figures and gave them an experimental shake.

In the bedroom she lifted up the mattress, searched the two bedside tables, then opened the wardrobe and took out the clothes, examining each garment before laying it on the bed. She placed the shoes on the floor, stepped inside the wardrobe, and tapped at the sides and floor. She envisaged the dead man and the evil which flowed through him like a river of darkness — deep and cold and merciless.

Elínborg took her time, searching every inch of the flat. By the time she had finished it was the middle of the night.

She had not found what she was looking for.

No clue to the fate of the missing Akranes girl.

Elínborg lay down in bed next to Teddi and tried to sleep. Her mind craved peace but all she found was suffering and sadness.

‘Can’t sleep?’ whispered Teddi beside her in the dark.

‘Are you awake?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Good to have you home,’ said Teddi.

Elínborg kissed him and curled up against him. She knew she had a short, restless night ahead of her.

She thought of Theodóra.

‘ What is your job, Mum? ’

That innocent question entailed another, more important one: her little girl was gradually becoming aware of a world that was overwhelming and frightening. She might as well have asked her mother: ‘What kind of a world am I living in?’

Elínborg closed her eyes.

She saw Addý stumbling up out of the hollow by the river, looking around in terror in case the rapist returned to attack her again. In the community centre the dance went on. All she could think of was getting home without meeting anyone. She didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want anyone to know. She couldn’t tell anyone what he had done. When she reached home she locked all the doors and closed the windows, and in the kitchen she rocked back and forth, back and forth, trying to erase the horror from her mind. She wept and shook, and wept, and wept.

Elínborg buried her head in the pillow.

Far away, she heard a quiet knock at a door, saw a small fist raised to knock again, harder. She saw Lilja standing on Edvard’s doorstep. Runólfur appeared in the doorway.

‘Oh,’ said Lilja. ‘Isn’t this Edvard’s house?’

Runólfur smiled at her. He glanced around to check whether she was alone, whether there was anyone on the street to see them.

‘Yes, he’ll be home any time. Won’t you come in and wait?’

She hesitated. ‘I was going to …’

‘I’m expecting him back any minute.’

Lilja looked out to sea. She could see Akranes across the bay. Lilja was in the habit of trusting people. She was a well-brought-up, polite girl.

‘Do come in,’ said Runólfur.

‘All right. Thank you,’ she said.

Elínborg watched the door close behind them, and fell asleep, certain in the knowledge that it would never open again.