I Can See in the Dark (Karin Fossum) by Karin Fossum

Author:Karin Fossum
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Europe, Mystery & Detective, Travel, Crime, Fiction, Sweden), General, Norway, Scandinavia (Finland
ISBN: 9781448104642
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2013-07-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 22

A TRAP.

A rotten pit into which I’d fallen headlong. The green Volvo arrived a couple of days later.

Once again, I was well prepared, because they’d announced that they were coming, but it was surreal all the same. The two men stood at the top of the steps, their legs and shoulders wide. In case I should make any attempt at resistance, but I wouldn’t have even toyed with the idea, I’m no fool. And besides, I was innocent, and someone who’s innocent is strong, yes, almost indecently strong, chock-full of self-assurance and right on top of the situation. I really was, right on top of the situation. Randers stated his official errand firmly and concisely, his younger colleague tramped boldly past me and went into the house. Peered about everywhere, rummaged through my things. He checked the view from the windows, cast his eye over the contents of the rooms, the furniture, the desk and computer, brushed his hand across shelves and tables as if searching for dust. And dust is all he found. He smiled as he caught sight of my Advent Star in the window, just as Arnfinn had done. What’s wrong with having a star in the window in summertime? Then he put his hands on his hips and pretended to be important. I concentrated on what Randers was saying, even though it was inexplicable. That I was suspected of aggravated murder. I held my hands out to him, palms upwards, a symbolic act to show that I was innocent of the crime. It made no impression. Now at last I understood about all the suspicion at the nursing home. The evasive looks, the personal questions, about how I was doing, and if I was sleeping at night; and no, I wasn’t sleeping at night, I wasn’t sleeping a wink. I lay tossing in torment and misery.

Then we went to the car. Randers and his young henchman sat in the front, I sat behind them. I took nothing with me, after all I’d soon be back, of that much I was sure. There’d never been such a miscarriage of justice as this. I mean, the murder of Nelly Friis. The car rolled down the road. The police radio crackled a bit. After a few moments, Randers broke the silence.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, and squinted at me over his shoulder. His voice was friendly now, quite bereft of derision or triumph.

‘What am I thinking about?’ I gazed at the scene outside the window. ‘I’m thinking about the park near Lake Mester. I often go there. Have you ever been to it?’

He nodded.

‘Yup, I’ve been there,’ he said. ‘A long time ago. Pretty little park.’

‘Then you must have seen the statue at the entrance to the park,’ I said. ‘Right by the paved pathway. The one that’s called Woman Weeping.’

‘I have seen it,’ Randers replied. ‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ He nodded in agreement.

‘But there’s another statue,’ I explained. ‘Which stands at the other end of the park.

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