The Darkness(52)

‘Thank you,’ she muttered to Magnús, so low as to be almost inaudible.

‘We’ll try to keep this quiet, Hulda, for both our sakes. I haven’t shared any of the details with your colleagues. It would be a shame for you to end your career in disgrace, though it’ll almost certainly come out later if you face charges. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll pass the matter on to the State Prosecutor on Monday and, after that, it’ll be out of my hands. I can’t make it disappear, Hulda, you must understand that. But we’ll try to limit the damage.’

She nodded in humble gratitude. It didn’t cross her mind to deny it, to go on lying. The game was up.

‘Of course, you’ll have to quit your duties immediately – there’ll be no more latitude. Have you cleared your office?’

She shook her head dumbly.

‘Then I’ll get someone to do it for you and send the stuff round to your flat, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘By the way, what happened about the Russian asylum-seeker?’

Hulda was fighting to stop herself breaking down. She couldn’t end her career like this: sixty-four years old, in floods of tears on her last day at work. Clearing her throat, she said hoarsely: ‘I’m still working on it. There were two of them.’

‘Yes, you mentioned that on the phone earlier. What did you mean?’

‘There was a Russian girl called Katja who went missing over a year ago. Then Elena died. The two girls were best friends. I doubt Alexander made the connection.’

‘Are they connected?’

‘I don’t know, but it needs checking out.’

‘You’re right.’ He thought for a bit then said: ‘Could you write a report and email it to me when you get a moment? I’ll take a look at it myself as soon as I have time.’

His tone of voice betrayed him. She didn’t believe him for a minute, but she appreciated the gesture.

‘Yes, sure, I’ll do that.’

He rose to his feet, holding out his hand, and she shook it without a word.

‘It was a privilege working with you, Hulda. You were an outstanding cop.’ He paused, then added: ‘It’s a pity it had to end like this.’





XIII


She woke again with a start, sensing that it was still the middle of the night.

At first, she thought it was the cold that had woken her, and it was true that she was freezing, not just her head but her whole body. Only then did it dawn on her that her sleeping bag was unzipped.

Her companion had moved down from the top bunk and climbed into hers, and was now lying beside her, one hand burrowing inside her underwear.

Frantic with terror, she tried to shove him off, but she was so cold that her limbs wouldn’t obey. He pulled her against him, kissing her, while she struggled with all the strength she could muster to push him away.

‘Cut it out,’ he snarled. ‘We both knew what would happen – what I meant by inviting you away for the weekend. I’ve seen how you look at me. Don’t start acting all coy, for fuck’s sake.’

She heard him in stunned disbelief.

Next moment, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, louder than she had ever screamed in her life.

He didn’t even bother to clamp a hand over her mouth.





XIV


Hulda stood outside the police station on Hverfisgata, frozen into immobility. A few colleagues said hello as they walked past, but she was incapable of returning their greetings. She just stood there, staring unseeingly into space.

It was as if her life had been brought to a full stop: she couldn’t look forward, couldn’t picture what tomorrow might bring. Her greatest need now was to talk to Pétur, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him. Not yet.

Eventually finding the will to move, she set off slowly round the corner of the building and kept walking in the direction of the sea. Although the sun had broken free of the clouds, she was met by a stiff breeze when she reached the coast road. She crossed it, heedless of the traffic, and took a seat on a bench, gazing out across the bay towards the panorama of mountains. She never tired of this view. All those summits she had conquered in her time: Esja, Skardsheidi, Akrafjall. The breathtaking beauty had a calming effect, soothing her, taking her back to some of her happiest moments. But it also brought back images of Elena washed up in the cove. The sea giveth and the sea taketh away.

Once again, Hulda felt the crushing weight of her loneliness.

She had so much on her conscience.

Her thoughts returned to Elena. Could she be the key? The way by which she could earn a kind of absolution? Restore her honour, to some degree? Could she salvage something from the wreckage of her life by solving this case? If nothing else, to feel more reconciled to herself?

The restless waters of Faxaflói bay supplied no answers, but perhaps they brought a tiny glint of hope. She had assured Magnús she was abandoning her inquiry, but what were the chances of his finding out if she continued working on it for the rest of the day? Made full use of her last few hours on the job? There were two leads she still had to follow up. Who would it hurt if she went ahead? It would mean having to lie, pretend she was still in the police, but it was unlikely anyone would question the fact.

Yes, she had to do it. Just for today. It was her last chance. It would provide the necessary distraction until she could summon up the courage to face Pétur this evening.