‘She killed him, Hulda. Then immediately turned herself in. Told us the whole sorry story. That she’d run him down in her car because of what he’d done to her son. She’d meant to kill him then, not just for revenge but to stop him doing the same thing to someone else’s child. You went to interview her at work, didn’t you? And immediately saw through her denials. She said you gave her the third degree and, in the end, she caved in and admitted what she’d done. It was a relief, she said. And she also said …’ He dropped his eyes to the papers in front of him and referred to Emma’s statement: ‘That she was relieved to get it off her chest. There was no way she could live with what she’d done. Following your visit, she expected to be arrested any minute, but later that evening you rang her up and told her you were going to let her off. She was stunned – grateful, of course, but at the same time disappointed. Her guilt was weighing so heavily on her that she decided she had no choice but to confess. So she rang your number.’
Hulda flinched. The late-night phone call.
‘But you didn’t answer.’
Hulda shook her head, shattered. ‘No, I was busy,’ she whispered. Why the hell hadn’t she picked up?
Magnús went on turning the knife. ‘She was in a bad state last night and couldn’t think straight. Felt she had no future, nothing but darkness ahead, so she might as well finish what she’d started. Achieve something worthwhile. You know, you could have stopped her last night, Hulda.’
She nodded, her throat too constricted to make a sound.
‘To say nothing of the gross misconduct you showed by covering up for her. More than misconduct – as you’re perfectly aware, Hulda, you broke the law, obstructed the course of justice.’
But my intentions were good, she thought to herself. The law wasn’t the sole arbiter of right and wrong. Sometimes you had to look at the bigger picture. She had no illusions; she was well aware of how dangerous it was for someone in her position to think like that. After all, she had sworn an oath to uphold the law. But this wasn’t the first time she had broken it on the pretext that, in certain circumstances, such behaviour was justified. The only difference was that, this time, she had been found out. A man was dead, and it was partly her fault. She suddenly felt violently sick, yet she couldn’t summon up any grief for the paedophile’s death. Perhaps saying he had deserved to die would be going too far, but she was certain that the world was a better, safer place without him.
‘Can’t we …?’ She broke off, unable to finish the sentence. For the second time in her life, her world was collapsing around her. First when Dimma had died, now this. Her reputation, her exemplary record at work, all of it about to go up in smoke. And what was worse: she could be facing charges. Could she bear to end up in the dock after her long career in the police? Go to prison …? And what about Pétur, what would he say? She had a horrible fear that the future, which she had belatedly begun to look forward to, was about to slip out of her grasp.
Magnús sat without moving or speaking, his eyes fixed on Hulda. The silence grew so oppressive that she wanted to scream; she was feeling too drained for anything else.
‘You can’t imagine how difficult this is for me, Hulda,’ he said at last. ‘How disappointed I am. I’ve always respected you.’
Sceptical though she was about that, she didn’t contradict him.
‘You’re a role model for so many of us here in CID. And you’ve paved the way for so many others, like Karen. You’ve put me in an impossible position, Hulda.’
Hulda wasn’t sure how to take this. Was Magnús being sincere? She hoped so, but if he was, that would mean she had misread the situation all these years, underestimated the respect she actually commanded among her colleagues.
She bowed her head in defeat; all the fight had gone out of her.
‘I’m furious, make no mistake, but I’m not going to waste time yelling at you: it’s far too serious for that. More than anything, I’m devastated,’ he went on, and to Hulda’s amazement, it sounded as though he meant it. ‘I’ve often stuck up for you when there was talk of replacing you or transferring you to another department. You’re slow but persistent, old school, and not everyone appreciates that. But you get results.’
She wasn’t sure whether to believe this; she had never felt she got any real support from Magnús, not once. But she had certainly achieved results over the years, leading investigations in some high-profile cases. She remembered two of them in particular: a death on a small island off the south coast of Iceland, where four friends had intended to spend a quiet weekend; and the horrible events at an isolated farm in the eastern part of the country, that Christmas in 1987 – the Christmas when Dimma had died. Both cases had been very difficult for her emotionally, and the events often came back to haunt her.
‘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.