Arctic Chill by Arnaldur Indridason

sigh and closed his eyes. All those endless
    thoughts that cut into his mind like shards of glass on his descent into a
    dreamless sleep.
     
    He thinks about Elínborg snuggling up exhausted against her little daughter, as if to protect her from all harm.
    He sees a worried-looking Sigurdur Óli creeping into his house, taking care not to wake Bergthóra.
    Elías lies in the back garden of the flats in a ripped anorak, his broken eyes watching the snow drifting past.
    Ódinn paces the floor on Snorrabraut.
    Niran lies in his room, his lips trembling in silent anguish.
    Sunee sits alone on the sofa, weeping quietly beneath the yellow dragon.
    The woman he is searching for bobs gently in the lapping waves.
    His eight-year-old brother lies frozen in a blizzard that will last for ever.
    In a sun-drenched dream, a little bird flicks its tail in its new bird-house and sings for its friend.

9
    When Erlendur arrived at the school the following morning with Elínborg and Sigurdur Óli, the bell had just rung for break. The children were walking quietly along the corridors. Teachers and assistants were controlling the flood and all the exits stood wide open. It had snowed towards morning. The younger children intended to use every second of the break to play outside. The older ones were more blasé, huddling by the walls or strolling in small groups down to the shop.
    Erlendur knew that trauma counselling was available for the children in Elías's class and that some of the parents had taken advantage of it. They had accompanied their children to school and told the teachers of their concerns. The principal had decided to gather all the pupils and staff in the assembly hall at lunchtime for a period of quiet reflection in memory of Elías. The local clergyman was going to address the pupils and a representative from the police would ask anyone who knew about Elías's movements, or had any information that might prove useful in the investigation into his death, to notify a teacher, the principal or the police. An emergency telephone number would be given for anonymous callers. All leads would be investigated, however trivial they might seem. Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg were going to ask Elías's classmates about his last day alive, although this process was complicated by the fact that parental permission was required before a child could be questioned. Agnes, Elías's form teacher, had been very helpful and telephoned the parents first thing, and had received permission from most of them to allow the police, in cooperation with the Reykjavík Child Welfare Agency, to gather important information. She emphasised that this would not involve proper questioning, only information collection. Some parents wanted to be present when their children were interviewed and stood in the corridor with anxious expressions on their faces. Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg were already sitting down with the children, one at a time, in an empty classroom they had been allocated for the purpose.
    Erlendur met the principal and asked specifically about the woodwork teacher. He understood that, like the Icelandic teacher, Egill had expressed some antipathy towards Asian women who immigrated to Iceland. The principal, who was rather stressed about preparing for the lunchtime meeting with the police representative, showed Erlendur to the woodwork room. No one was there. Erlendur returned to the staff room and was told that the woodwork teacher was probably sitting in his car out in the car park. This was a long break and he had the habit of going out to his car sometimes to smoke a cigarette or two, Erlendur was told.
    The police investigation was still focusing on the immediate vicinity, the school and the estate. It transpired that a repeat offender lived in a block of flats not far from Elías's. He had been brought in for questioning that night but, paralytic with drink, he had assaulted the officers and was detained in custody. Towards morning a search