Карин Фоссум - The Whisperer

He immediately wrote something on his notepad. She could see that it was more than a keyword this time, was in fact several sentences. She did not want to ask what he was writing, she was not really bothered anyway, all she cared about was the letter waiting for her, maybe even in the inspector’s desk. But she held her tongue. She had some rights, and he had not said that they would hold the letter back.

He put the pen down and scrutinised her face. More closely than before, Ragna felt, they were obviously no longer going to be friends. It was serious now. For some reason he had decided to be mean. The room felt different, the light was sharper. He was willing to throw the trust she had built up overboard, she was now going to be pressed into a corner. Time was running out, perhaps; he wanted to close the case, to move it on through the system. She had never for a moment believed she would get away with it. And she did not want to either, she just wanted to explain herself properly.

She could not bear the silence any longer.

‘Do you think Rikard Josef could get a temporary release?’ she whispered hopefully. ‘So he could come and visit me?’

‘I doubt it very much,’ was Sejer’s short reply. ‘Be happy with the fact that you’ve been allowed to receive a letter and read it, despite correspondence and visitation restrictions. We’ve done a lot for you. And I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the rules for leave from Plötzensee Prison.’

‘So now you don’t want to do any more for me.’

When he did not answer, she made another attempt.

‘Why are you looking at me like that? What is it?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to find out myself,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to understand what actually happened.’

‘Who have you been talking to?’ she asked nervously. ‘What did they say?’

She pulled down the sleeves of her sweater to hide her hands.

‘What are you frightened they’ve said?’ Sejer asked. ‘An uncomfortable truth?’

Ragna put a hand over her throat, as though the scar might give her away, and she had to avoid that at all costs. She did not like the direction this conversation had taken. She had told the truth, she had laid her cards on the table from day one. She had a feeling there was something she had forgotten, and that her desire to cooperate was no longer appreciated. What was the point in continuing? Maybe she should stop talking for good now, and let him work it out himself. Lots of people did, they said nothing, on the advice of their lawyers. She had been given the same advice too, but ignored it. She crossed her arms and sent him an injured look. They were clearly in a new phase now and were going to fight with different weapons. It struck her that they had not fought at all, never used any weapons, the words had just flowed, from her to him and back again. She thought about her son and felt anxious. Maybe they wanted to punish her, for whatever it was she had done, by not letting her see his letter. Only Rikard was important now, and everything they were going to say or write to each other. She felt effervescent joy at the knowledge that he was thinking about his mother, and that he called her ‘ Liebe Mutti ’. She wanted to know more.

‘I can see that things have changed,’ she whispered.

He nodded in reply.

‘I’ve spoken to the people who know you,’ he explained. ‘It’s routine to question them, people who have been in contact with you for some time and know something about you.’

‘The people who know me? That can’t have taken much time.’

‘There’s more of them than you think,’ Sejer said.

She reached for the water jug, but he was quicker and poured a glass, pushed it over the table towards her, seemed kinder again. She left the glass standing there, her hands were shaking too much and she did not want him to see.

‘They can’t have had much to say,’ she said faintly. ‘I’ve never been particularly chatty, for obvious reasons.’

‘Our eyes provide us with a lot of information. I’m sure you know what I mean. And as you don’t say much, I’m sure you keep your eyes open when you’re with other people.’

‘So what have they seen then?’ she asked truculently.

Because she was annoyed, she had stopped shaking. She picked up the glass and drank down the water in great gulps, then banged the glass back down on the table.

‘What are you frightened of hearing, Ragna?’

‘No one knows anything,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s all guesswork and assumptions. Everything we think we know about each other is wrong. I don’t know what you want, I don’t know what you’re after — I’ve put all my cards on the table. I’ve not held anything back. It’s you who is keeping things back.’

‘Sometimes we have to.’

‘We?’ She looked around the room. ‘There’s only you and me in the room. So from now on, you’re going to be tactical, is that it?’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ he replied calmly.

‘I’m going to get that letter from Rikard,’ she whispered with determination. ‘I’m not going to say another word until I get my letter, it’s my right.’

‘Strictly speaking, it’s not,’ he said.

They looked at each other for a long time, and in the end, she had to look away.

He stood up and went over to a shelf where Ragna’s letter was lying, pushed it over the table to her.

‘You opened it with your fingers,’ she complained, ‘as though it were just advertising.’

She held the torn envelope up to show him.

‘You could at least have used a letter opener,’ she said. ‘This is a valuable document.’

She could not sit still; she waved the envelope in anger and had trouble expressing how she felt.

‘Yes, we should have,’ Sejer conceded. ‘You’re right.’

‘We?’ Ragna said again. She sounded bitter.

‘I,’ Sejer corrected himself. ‘It was me who opened the letter, and I opened it with my finger. I am very sorry that I did not show greater respect.’

He looked her in the eyes when he said this.

‘I want to read it in my cell,’ she demanded. ‘I want to read it now. I want to go back.’

Liebe Mutti ,

All I see through my window is the prison wall. It is eight metres high. On top there are great rolls of barbed wire, which remind me of nests that no bird wants to live in. And I can see the tower, of course, where the guards are on patrol 24/7. The top is made of glass and is a bit like a diamond cut with six surfaces. They walk slowly, their eagle eyes looking out over the enormous prison grounds. I often sit here watching them, while I try to imagine what they think as they trudge their set round, always in a circle, as though they were in a running wheel. I can also see a small patch of sky, it’s not very big, really too small to get any sense of the weather. I have to go out into the exercise yard to do that, but I’m out there every day, as a rule in the afternoons. But I’m not that bothered about the weather, as I’m neither a farmer nor a fisherman .

Yes, of course we are serving our sentences under the same sky, even though sometimes, as a child, I wondered if we actually lived in the same world. We now have something in common, something that unites us, which might be a good thing and lead to a better understanding. A new openness. But I don’t expect much, I’ve learned not to, I was worn out by everything that went on at home, that I escaped from. But it feels good to write to you, it’s new to me. When Helmut passes down the corridor with the post, I go out and call after him, as there might be something from you in the big pile. The others get letters, and now I’m no different from them .