The Snowman: A Harry Hole Novel by Jo Nesbo

Author:Jo Nesbo [Nesbo, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780307599575
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2011-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

Harry found Beate Lønn in the House of Pain, the room where she had spent most of her time when she had been working in the Robberies Unit. The House of Pain was a windowless office packed with equipment for watching and editing closed-circuit TV footage, blowing up images and identifying people in grainy shots or voices on fuzzy telephone recordings. But now she was head of the Forensics Unit, in Brynsalléen, and furthermore just back from maternity leave.

The machines were buzzing, and the dry heat had put roses in her almost transparent, pale cheeks.

“Hi,” Harry said, letting the iron door close behind him.

The small, agile woman got up and they hugged, both feeling a bit awkward.

“You’re thin,” she said.

Harry shrugged. “How’s … everything going?”

“Greger sleeps when he has to, eats what he has to and hardly ever cries.” She smiled. “And for me that’s everything now.”

He thought he should say something about Halvorsen. Something to show that he hadn’t forgotten. But the right words wouldn’t come. And instead, seeming to understand, she asked how he was.

“Fine,” he said, dropping into a chair. “Not bad. Absolutely dreadful. Depends on when you ask.”

“And today?” She turned to the TV monitor and pressed a button, and people on the screen started running backward into the Storo Mall.

“I’m paranoid,” Harry said. “I have the feeling I’m hunting someone who is manipulating me, that everything is chaotic and he is making me do exactly what he wants. Do you know the feeling?”

“Yes,” Beate said. “I call him Greger.” She stopped rewinding. “Do you want to see what I’ve found?”

Harry pushed his chair closer. It was no myth that Beate Lønn had special gifts, that her fusiform gyrus, the part of the brain that stores and identifies human faces, was so highly developed and sensitive that she was a walking index file of criminals.

“I went through the shots you have of those involved in the case,” she said. “Husbands, children, witnesses and so on. I know what our old friends look like, of course.”

She moved the images frame by frame. “There,” she said, stopping.

The image was frozen and jumped on the screen, showing a selection of people in grainy black and white, out of focus.

“Where?” Harry said, feeling as witless as he usually did when he was studying pictures with Beate Lønn.

“There. It’s the same person in this picture.” She took out one of the photos from her file.

“Could this be the person who is tailing you, Harry?”

Harry stared at the photo in astonishment. Then he nodded slowly and grabbed his phone. Katrine Bratt answered after two seconds.

“Get your coat and meet me down in the garage,” Harry said. “We’re going for a drive.”

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