enjoying his being there. She had quietly admitted to herself that her dread of his being a ball and chain had proven to be unfounded, and she had slowly forced it out of her mind. She was starting to have a much more relaxed view of their future together.
10
B LOMMEVEJ. L OUISE WAS DRIVING OUT ALONG R OSKILDEVEJ, THE highway from Copenhagen to Roskilde, keeping her eyes peeled for Tårnvej, where she was supposed to take a right. From there, she was supposed to find the road that went down to the neighborhood with all the row houses. She was concentrating on driving and looking for the right address; but although she was close, she was having a hard time seeing any system to the numbering. So she decided to park and search for 211F on foot.
The first conversation she’d had with Karin Hvenegaard two years earlier had been at the Center for Victims of Sexual Assault, the same place she’d taken Susanne. Karin had come in to the police headquarters a couple of times since then, but Louise had never been out to her house before.
She pulled over in front of a small cluster of two-story houses. Number 211F was on the second floor, but there wasn’t any name on the mailbox. Louise was starting to suspect that Karin didn’t live here anymore, or maybe she’d just listed the Blommevej address as her permanent address and lived someplace else that they didn’t have on record. Louise rang the doorbell and leaned against the railing while she waited.
When the door opened, Louise recognized Karin right away, even though she had a totally different air about her now than the way Louise remembered her. She hadn’t shrunk in a physical sense. And yet there wasn’t much left of the woman who, even in the battered and miserable state she had been in two years earlier, had projected so much more vitality than the woman standing in the doorway before her now. She was hunched over, fear in her eyes, which were looking more downward than straight ahead. It was obvious that she remembered Louise, but she did not seem surprised or curious. She just stood there, with a neutral expression, waiting for whatever was going to come.
“Could I come in?” Louise asked after a second.
Karin stepped aside.
It had been a long time since they’d talked to each other. The last time they’d spoken, Louise had told her that she didn’t think they were going to be able to find Kim Jensen, her attacker, and Karin had seemed to accept that. She said something about that being the way things went when you went swimming out where you couldn’t touch the bottom and the current carried you away. She had nodded and thanked them for trying, and then she’d been given a lift home and had disappeared from Louise’s life and thoughts.
Until today, Louise hadn’t even wondered how she was doing, or even whether she was still alive, and that realization stung a little as she stepped into Karin’s apartment.
Karin still hadn’t asked why Louise had suddenly turned up, and Louise couldn’t discern any glimmer of curiosity in Karin’s eyes to suggest that she might ask. Instead, once they’d reached the living room, Karin asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Lunch was sitting in a pan on the table along with two plates and a pitcher of juice. Karin lived alone with her young daughter. Louise did the math and calculated that she must be almost four.
“Yes, please,” Louise replied.
The place had an open floor plan, so the living room and kitchen were one space. Louise said hello to Karin’s daughter, who was playing on the floor of her room, and then joined Karin in the kitchen, taking the two mugs Karin handed her from the cupboard.
“I came to talk to you about Kim Jensen. We’re dealing with a rape case that is sort of similar to what you went through. Obviously we don’t know if it’s him,” Louise hastened to add. “But I’ve read through your police report again, and there are some similarities that indicate it might be
10
B LOMMEVEJ. L OUISE WAS DRIVING OUT ALONG R OSKILDEVEJ, THE highway from Copenhagen to Roskilde, keeping her eyes peeled for Tårnvej, where she was supposed to take a right. From there, she was supposed to find the road that went down to the neighborhood with all the row houses. She was concentrating on driving and looking for the right address; but although she was close, she was having a hard time seeing any system to the numbering. So she decided to park and search for 211F on foot.
The first conversation she’d had with Karin Hvenegaard two years earlier had been at the Center for Victims of Sexual Assault, the same place she’d taken Susanne. Karin had come in to the police headquarters a couple of times since then, but Louise had never been out to her house before.
She pulled over in front of a small cluster of two-story houses. Number 211F was on the second floor, but there wasn’t any name on the mailbox. Louise was starting to suspect that Karin didn’t live here anymore, or maybe she’d just listed the Blommevej address as her permanent address and lived someplace else that they didn’t have on record. Louise rang the doorbell and leaned against the railing while she waited.
When the door opened, Louise recognized Karin right away, even though she had a totally different air about her now than the way Louise remembered her. She hadn’t shrunk in a physical sense. And yet there wasn’t much left of the woman who, even in the battered and miserable state she had been in two years earlier, had projected so much more vitality than the woman standing in the doorway before her now. She was hunched over, fear in her eyes, which were looking more downward than straight ahead. It was obvious that she remembered Louise, but she did not seem surprised or curious. She just stood there, with a neutral expression, waiting for whatever was going to come.
“Could I come in?” Louise asked after a second.
Karin stepped aside.
It had been a long time since they’d talked to each other. The last time they’d spoken, Louise had told her that she didn’t think they were going to be able to find Kim Jensen, her attacker, and Karin had seemed to accept that. She said something about that being the way things went when you went swimming out where you couldn’t touch the bottom and the current carried you away. She had nodded and thanked them for trying, and then she’d been given a lift home and had disappeared from Louise’s life and thoughts.
Until today, Louise hadn’t even wondered how she was doing, or even whether she was still alive, and that realization stung a little as she stepped into Karin’s apartment.
Karin still hadn’t asked why Louise had suddenly turned up, and Louise couldn’t discern any glimmer of curiosity in Karin’s eyes to suggest that she might ask. Instead, once they’d reached the living room, Karin asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Lunch was sitting in a pan on the table along with two plates and a pitcher of juice. Karin lived alone with her young daughter. Louise did the math and calculated that she must be almost four.
“Yes, please,” Louise replied.
The place had an open floor plan, so the living room and kitchen were one space. Louise said hello to Karin’s daughter, who was playing on the floor of her room, and then joined Karin in the kitchen, taking the two mugs Karin handed her from the cupboard.
“I came to talk to you about Kim Jensen. We’re dealing with a rape case that is sort of similar to what you went through. Obviously we don’t know if it’s him,” Louise hastened to add. “But I’ve read through your police report again, and there are some similarities that indicate it might be
Similar Books
