The spoon shook in his hand. His blood sugar was extremely low, and there was a ringing in his ears.
"A black man has started working at the Co-op grocery," his grandmother said out of the blue. "Have you seen him, Halvor?"
"It's called the Kiwi now. The Co-op is gone. Yes, his name is Philip."
"He talks with a Bergen accent," she said. "I don't like it when a fellow looks like that and talks with a Bergen accent."
"But he is from Bergen," said Halvor, slurping milk and sugar from his spoon. "He was born and raised there. His parents are from Tanzania."
"It would have been much better if he spoke his own language."
"The Bergen dialect is his own language. Besides, you wouldn't understand a word if he spoke Swahili."
"But I get such a fright every time he opens his mouth."
"You'll get used to it."
That's the way they talked to each other. Usually they agreed about things. His grandmother would toss out her latest worry, and Halvor would pick it up, swiftly and easily, as if it were a faulty paper aeroplane that needed to be refolded.
The car approached the driveway. From a distance the house didn't look particularly inviting. An aerial view would have revealed just how isolated it was, as if it wanted to hide from the rest of the neighbourhood, set back from the road, partially concealed by shrubs and trees. Little windows high up on the wall. Faded grey clapboard weatherproofing. The courtyard half-overgrown with weeds.
Through the dining-room window Halvor saw a faint light. He heard the car and some of his milk dribbled down his chin. The headlights flickered through the dim light of the room. Moments later, they were standing in the doorway, looking at him.
"We need to have a little talk," said Sejer. "You'll have to come with us, but you can finish eating first."
He wasn't hungry any more, but then he hadn't thought he was going to get off easily. He went calmly out to the kitchen and carefully rinsed the bowl under the tap. He slipped into his room and turned off the monitor, muttered something into his grandmother's ear, and followed them out. He had to sit by himself in the back seat of the car, and he didn't like that. It reminded him of something else.
*
"I'm trying to put together a picture of Annie," Sejer said. "Who she was and how she lived. I want you to tell me everything about what kind of girl she was. What she did and said when the two of you were together, all the thoughts and fantasies you must have had about why she'd withdrawn from everyone she knew, and about what happened up there at Serpent Tarn. Everything, Halvor."
"I have no idea."
"You must have had some thoughts about it."
"I've thought about a lot of things, but nothing makes any sense."
Silence. Halvor studied Sejer's blotting pad, which was a map of the world, and found the approximate location of where he lived.
"You were an important part of Annie's landscape," Sejer said. "That's actually what I'm getting at. I'm trying to map out the area that was hers."
"So that's what you're doing?" said Halvor dryly. "You're drawing a map?"
"Perhaps you have a better idea?"
"No," he said.
"Your father is dead," Sejer said abruptly. He searched the young face in front of him, and Halvor felt Sejer's looming presence like a tension in the room. It sapped his strength, especially when they had eye contact. So he sat with his head bowed.
"He took his own life. But you said that your parents were separated. Is it hard for you to talk about that?"
"I suppose so."
"Is that why you concealed the truth from me?"
"It's not exactly something to boast about."
"I understand. Can you tell me what you wanted from Annie?" he said. "Since you were waiting for her at Horgen's Shop on the day she was murdered."
His surprise seemed genuine.
"I'm sorry, but you're really on the wrong track!"
"A motorcyclist was observed in the vicinity at a crucial moment. You were out riding around. It could have been you."
"You better check that man's eyesight as soon as possible."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes."
"Then I will. Do you want something to drink?"
"No."
More silence. Halvor listened. Someone was laughing nearby; it all seemed so unreal. Annie was dead, and people were making noise and behaving as if nothing had happened.
"Did you get the impression that Annie wasn't well?"
"What?"
"Did you ever hear her complain of pain, for example?"