Don't Look Back (18 page)

"Are drugs available in that little village of yours?"

"Jesus, yes. Have been for years. You guys show up at regular intervals and raid the pub in the middle of town. But this
can't have anything to do with that. Annie never set foot in there. She scarcely even bought anything at the shop next door."

"Halvor," Sejer said, "Annie was a quiet, reserved girl who liked to be in control of her life. But think carefully: did she also seem scared of something?"

"Not exactly scared. More ... closed down. Sometimes almost angry, sometimes resigned. But I
have
seen Annie really scared. Not that it has anything to do with this, but I remember it clearly."

He was suddenly eager to talk. "Her mother and father and Sølvi were in Trondheim, where her aunt lives. Annie and I were home alone. I was going to stay over. It was last spring. First we took a ride on our bikes, then we stayed up late, listening to music. It was really warm, so we decided to sleep in a tent in the yard. We set everything up and then went inside to brush our teeth. I went back to the tent first. When Annie came, I knelt down and opened the sleeping bag. And there was a snake inside. A big black snake, coiled up inside the sleeping bag. We rushed out of the tent, and I went to get one of the neighbors who lives across the road. He thought it must have crawled into the sleeping bag to get warm. The neighbor managed to kill it. Annie was so scared that she threw up. And from then on I had to shake out her sleeping bag when we went camping."

"A snake in her sleeping bag?" Sejer shivered, remembering his own camping trips in his distant youth.

"Fagerlund ridge is crawling with snakes; it's a rocky slope. We put butter out and catch a lot of them."

"Butter? Why butter?"

"They eat it until they're practically in a stupor. Then all you have to do is pick them up."

"I hear you also have a sea serpent at the bottom of the fjord."

"That's right," Halvor said. "I've seen it myself. It only shows itself once in a while, when the wind is blowing in a certain way. It's actually a rock in the lake, just below the surface of the water, and when the wind changes from an onshore to an offshore, there's a loud roaring, three or four times. Then it's quiet again. It's really odd. Everyone knows what it is, but if you're out there all alone, you don't doubt for a minute that something is rising up from the deep. The first time, I rowed away like crazy without turning around even once."

"But you can't think of a single person who knew Annie and might have wanted to harm her?"

"Not one," he said. "I've thought over and over about everything that happened, and I can't make sense of it. It must have been a madman."

Yes, Sejer thought, it could have been a madman. He drove Halvor home, maneuvering the car right up to the front steps.

"I suppose you have to get up early," he said kindly. "It's late."

"I usually don't have any trouble getting up."

Halvor liked him and didn't like him. It was confusing.

He climbed out, opened the door cautiously, hoping his grandmother was asleep. To make sure, he peeked through a crack in the door and heard her snoring. Then he sat down in front of the monitor again and continued where he had left off. He kept on thinking of new things. Suddenly he remembered that she once had a cat that they found in a snowdrift, as flat as a pizza. He typed in the name Baghera. Nothing happened, but he hadn't really expected it to. He thought of this as a long-term project, and besides, there were other ways. In the back of his mind an idea for a simple solution to the problem was forming. But he hadn't lost hope yet. Besides, that would be cheating. If he managed to find the password on his own, he felt the breach of his promise to Annie would not be as great.
He scratched the back of his neck and typed in "Top Secret." Just in case. And then he typed "Annie Holland," both backward and forward, because it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't tried the simplest possibility, the most obvious, which of course she wouldn't have used, and yet might have used after all. "Access denied." He shoved his chair back a little from the desk, stretched, and put his hand on the back of his neck again. It prickled, as if something on his neck was annoying him. There was nothing there, but the feeling continued. Surprised, he turned around and stared out the window. A sudden impulse made him stand up and draw the curtains. He had a strong sense that someone was watching him, and the feeling made his hair stand on end. Swiftly he turned off the light. Outside he heard retreating footsteps, as though someone were running away. He peered through a crack in the curtains but couldn't see anyone. Nonetheless, he was positive that someone had been standing there; all his senses told him this was so, with an undeniable, physical certainty. He switched off the Mac, tore off his clothes, and climbed under the covers. He lay in bed, quiet as a mouse, and listened. Now there was total silence, he couldn't even hear the swaying of the trees in the wind outside. Then, after several minutes, he heard a car start up.

Knut Jensvoll didn't hear the car because he was working with an electric drill, trying to put up a shelf where he could leave his damp sneakers to dry after exercising. When he stopped for a moment, he heard the doorbell. He peered out the window and saw Sejer looming on the top step. He'd had a feeling they might come. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, smoothed down his clothes and his hair. He had already anticipated several questions. He felt prepared.

One thought was uppermost in Jensvoll's mind: Had they found out about the rape? That had to be the reason why they were here. Once a criminal, always a criminal; that was a maxim he knew well. He assumed a strained expression, but then realized that this might make them suspicious; so he pulled himself together and tried a smile instead. Then he remembered that Annie was dead, and went back to the strained mask.

"Police. Can we come in?"

Jensvoll nodded. "I just have to close the door to the laundry room." He waved them inside, disappeared for a moment, and returned at once. He cast a worried glance at Skarre, who was fishing a notebook out of his jacket. Jensvoll was older than they had expected, maybe even close to fifty, and thickset. But his weight was well distributed; his body was firm and
muscular, healthy and well-nourished, with good color in his face, a thick mane of red hair, and an elegant, neatly trimmed mustache.

"I take it this has something to do with Annie?" he said. Sejer nodded.

"I have never been so shocked in my life. I knew her well, so I think I have good reason to say that. But it's been a while since she left the team. That was a tragedy, by the way, because no one could replace her. Now we've got a real dunce out there who tends to duck when the ball comes toward her. But at least she fills up half the width of the goal."

He stopped his babbling and blushed a little.

"Yes, it's a real tragedy," Sejer said, somewhat more acidly than he had intended. "Has it been a long time since you last saw her?"

"As I said, she left the team. That was last autumn. In November, I think." He looked Sejer in the eye.

"Excuse me, but that sounds a little odd. She lived only a few hundred yards up the hill, didn't she?"

"Yes, no. Well, I probably drove past her now and then. I thought you meant since I last had anything to do with her. In a proper sense, at practice. But I've seen her since then, of course. Downtown, maybe at the grocery shop."

"Then let me put the question this way: When did you last see Annie?"

Jensvoll had to think about it. "I don't know if I can remember. It must have been a while ago."

"We have plenty of time."

"Two or three weeks ago, maybe. At the post office, I think."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Just said hello. She wasn't particularly talkative of late."

"Why did Annie stop being goalkeeper?"

"If only I knew." He shrugged. "I'm afraid I pressured her
hard to change her mind, but it didn't do any good. She was fed up with it. Well, I don't really believe that, but that's what she said. Wanted to run instead, she said. And that's what she did, all right—day and night. I often drove past her on the plateau. Running full speed, long legs, good sneakers. Holland spared no expense when it came to that girl."

He was still waiting for them to drag the skeleton out of the closet; he had no hope that it would be avoided.

"Do you live alone here?"

"I was divorced a while ago. My wife took the children and left, so now I'm on my own, and I like it this way. Don't have a lot of time to spare after I finish my job and sports practice. I coach a boys' team too, and I play on the Old Boys team. I'm in and out of the shower half the day."

"You didn't believe her when she said she was tired of it—So what do you think the real reason was?"

"I have no idea. But she had a boyfriend, and those kinds of things take up time. He wasn't especially athletic, by the way, a pipe cleaner with skinny legs. Pale and slight, like a bean. He came to the matches once in a while, sat like a lump on the bench and never said a word. Just watched the ball going back and forth, back and forth. When they left, he wasn't even allowed to carry her bag. He wasn't the right type for her; she was a lot tougher than that."

"They were still together."

"Is that right? Well, to each his own."

Sejer nodded and kept his thoughts to himself. "I'm required to ask you this question: Where were you last Monday between 11:00
A.M.
and 2:00
P.M.?
"

"On Monday? You mean ... on that day? At work, of course."

"And this can be confirmed by the warehouse?"

"I'm out driving a lot. We have home delivery, you see."

"So you were in your vehicle? Alone?"

"Part of the time I was in my truck. I delivered two wardrobes to a house on Rødtangen. That much, at least, they can confirm."

"When were you there?"

"Between 1:00
P.M.
and 2:00
P.M.,
I think."

"Be a little more precise, Jensvoll."

"Hmmm ... I suppose it was closer to 2:00
P.M.
"

Sejer did the calculation in his head. "And the hours before that?"

"Well, I was in and out. I overslept. And I grabbed a half hour at the tanning salon. We manage our own time, pretty much. Some days I have to put in overtime, which I don't get paid for. So I don't feel guilty. Even my boss has a tendency to..."

"Where were you, Jensvoll?"

"I got a late start that day," he said, clearing his throat. "A couple of us were out on the town on Sunday night. It's ridiculous, of course, to go out on a Sunday when you know you have to get up and go to work, but that's how it was. I didn't get home until 1:30
A.M.
"

"Who were you with?"

"A friend. Erik Fritzner."

"Fritzner? Annie's neighbor?"

"Yes."

"So..." Sejer nodded to himself and stared at the coach, at his wavy shock of hair and his tanned face. "Do you think Annie was an attractive girl?"

Jensvoll knew what he was getting at. "What kind of question is that?"

"Answer it, please."

"Of course. You've seen her photo."

"Yes, I have," Sejer said. "She wasn't just nice to look at. She was quite grown up for her age. Mature, in a way, more than most teenage girls. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Although I was more concerned with her expertise in the goal."

"Of course. That makes sense. Otherwise? Did you ever have any conflicts with the girls?"

"What type of conflicts?"

"Any kind," Sejer said deliberately, "regardless of type."

"Naturally I did. Teenage girls are quite volatile. But it was just the normal issues. No one wanted to replace Annie in goal, no one wanted to sit on the bench. Periods of unstoppable giggling. Boyfriends in the stands."

"What about Annie?"

"What about her?"

"Did you ever have a disagreement with Annie?"

He crossed his arms and nodded. "Well, yes, I did. On the day she called me and wanted to quit the team. I said a few desperate words that I should have held back. Maybe she took it as a compliment—who knows? She ended the conversation, hung up on me, and handed in her team uniform the next day. Done with it."

"And that's the only time the two of you had a falling out?"

"Yes, that's right. The only time."

Sejer nodded to Skarre. The conversation was over. They walked to the door, Jensvoll following. A good deal of suppressed frustration was about to get the better of him.

"Come on, be honest," he said, annoyed, as Sejer was opening the door. "Why are you pretending that you haven't looked at my record? Don't you think I have enough imagination to know that's the first thing you would do? That's why you're here, isn't it? I know what you're thinking."

Sejer turned around and stared at him.

"Do you have any idea what would happen to my team if that story got out around here? The girls would be locked in their rooms. The whole athletic program would collapse like a house of cards, and years of work would come to nothing!" His
voice grew louder as he talked. "And if there's one thing this place needs, it's a good sports program. The ones who aren't involved sit in pubs and buy dope. That's the only alternative. Just so you're aware what you'll be starting if you publicize what you know. And besides, it was eleven years ago!"

"I haven't said a word about it," Sejer said quietly. "And if you keep your voice down, maybe we can prevent it from getting out."

Jensvoll shut up at once and blushed bright red. He retreated back to the hall, and Skarre shut the door behind them. "Jesus," he said. "A land mine with hair and a mustache."

"If we had enough personnel," Sejer said, "I'd put a tail on him."

Skarre gave him an astonished look. "Why's that?"

"Probably just to be unpleasant."

Fritzner lay on his back in the dinghy, sipping a Hansa Premium. After each sip he took a drag on his cigarette. His concentration was completely absorbed by the book on his lap, propped against his knees. A steady stream of beer and nicotine seeped into his bloodstream. After a while he put down the beer and went to the living-room window. From there he could look down into Annie's bedroom. The curtains were drawn, even though it was only early afternoon, as if it were no longer an ordinary room but almost a shrine into which no one must look. There was a faint glow from a single lamp, maybe the one on the desk.