Dolores Redondo - The Invisible Guardian

Harper An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperCollins Publishers 2015

Copyright © Dolores Redondo 2013

Translation copyright © Isabelle Kaufeler 2015

Dolores Redondo asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Originally published in 2013 by Ediciones Destino, Spain, as El guardián invisible

Cover design by Holly Macdonald © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2018

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This is entirely a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007525355

Ebook Edition © APRIL 2015 ISBN: 9780007525348

Version: 2018-03-16

‘Forceful and brutal. Don’t miss it’

El Periódico

‘Terrifying’

Sydney Morning Herald

‘Utterly compelling’

Publishing Perspectives

‘One of the biggest literary surprises of recent times’

Mía

‘Man vs the bestiality of crime, ancestral legends vs modern investigation techniques, family traumas vs dark beliefs’

L’Express

‘A landscape thriller. And what a landscape it is’

Page des Libraires

‘A novel about the fear of returning to fear’

La Vanguardia

‘Seductive Spanish magical realism … solid and well-forged language, with surprising and impressive elements and formulations. With a richness and variety rare in its genre’

VG, Norway’s biggest newspaper

‘I was very surprised by it, I really loved it. I strongly recommend it’

María Dueñas, author of The Time in Between

‘Dolores Redondo has broken the traditional mould of the publishing industry’

David Morán, ABC

For Eduardo, who asked me to write this book, and for Ricard Domingo, who saw it when it was invisible.

For Rubén and Esther, for making me cry with laughter.

‘Forgetting is an involuntary act. The more you want to leave something behind you, the more it follows you.’

William Jonas Barkley

‘This is no ordinary apple; it’s a magic wishing apple.’

Walt Disney’s Snow White

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Glossary

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

Ainhoa Elizasu was the second victim of the basajaun , although the press were yet to coin that name for him. That came later, when it emerged that animal hairs, scraps of skin and unidentifiable tracks had been found around the bodies, along with evidence of some kind of macabre purification rite. With their torn clothes, their private parts shaved and their upturned hands, the bodies of those girls, almost still children, seemed to have been marked by a malign force, as old as the Earth.

Inspector Amaia Salazar always followed the same routine when she was called to a crime scene in the middle of the night. She would switch off the alarm clock so it wouldn’t disturb James in the morning, pile up her clothes and, with her mobile balanced on top of them, go very slowly downstairs to the kitchen. She would drink a milky coffee while she dressed, leave a note for her husband and get in the car. Then she would drive, her mind blank except for the white noise that always filled her head when she woke up before dawn.

These remnants of an interrupted night of insomnia stayed with her all the way to the crime scene, even though it was over an hour’s drive from Pamplona. She took a curve in the road too sharply and the squealing of the tyres made her realise how distracted she was. After that she made herself pay attention to the motorway as it wound its way upwards, deep into the dense forest surrounding Elizondo. Five minutes later, she pulled over next to a police sign, where she recognised Dr Jorge San Martín’s sports car and Judge Estébanez’s off-roader. Amaia got out, walked round to the back of her car and fished out a pair of wellingtons. She sat on the edge of the boot to pull them on while Deputy Inspector Jonan Etxaide and Inspector Montes joined her.

‘It’s not looking good, chief, the victim’s a young girl,’ Jonan consulted his notes, ‘twelve or thirteen years old. When she didn’t arrive home by eleven last night, her parents contacted the police.’

‘A bit early to report her missing,’ observed Amaia.

‘True. It looks like she rang her older brother on his mobile at about ten past eight to tell him she’d missed the bus from Arizkun.’

‘And her brother waited until eleven before saying anything?’

‘You know how it is, “ Aita and Ama will kill me. Please don’t tell them. I’m going to see if any of my friends’ parents will give me a lift.” So he kept quiet and played on his PlayStation. At eleven, when he realised his sister still hadn’t arrived home and his mother was starting to get hysterical, he told them Ainhoa had called. The parents went down to the station in Elizondo and insisted something must have happened to their daughter. She wasn’t answering her mobile and they’d already spoken to all her friends. A patrol found her. The officers spotted her shoes at the side of the road as they were coming round the bend.’ Jonan shone his torch towards the edge of the tarmac where a pair of black patent high heeled shoes glistened, perfectly aligned. Amaia leaned over to look at them.

‘They look like they’ve been arranged like this. Has anyone touched them?’ she asked. Jonan checked his notes again. The young deputy inspector’s efficiency was a god-send in cases as difficult as this one was shaping up to be.