beat.
"What did you just say?" He leaned his elbows on the table.
"One of the children she took care of died in an accident. His name was Eskil."
"Did it happen while Annie was baby-sitting for him?"
"No, no!" Holland gave him a frightened look. "No, are you crazy! Annie was extremely careful when she was caring for children. Didn't let them out of her sight for an instant."
"How did it happen?"
"At his house. He was only about two years old. Annie took it really badly. Well, we all did, of course, since we knew them."
"And when did this happen?"
"Last autumn, I told you. About the time that she withdrew from everything. In fact, a lot was going on then, it wasn't a good period for us. Halvor kept calling and Jensvoll did too. Bj酶rk was putting on the pressure about S酶lvi, and Ada was almost impossible to live with."
He fell silent, suddenly looking as if he were ashamed.
"When exactly did this death occur, Eddie?"
"I think it was in November. I don't remember the exact date."
"Did it happen before or after she left the team?"
"I don't remember."
"Then we'll keep going until you do. What kind of accident was it?"
"He got something caught in his throat and they couldn't get it out. He was in the kitchen alone, eating."
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"
Holland gave him an unhappy look. "Because it's Annie's death you're supposed to solve," he whispered.
"And that's what I'm doing. It's important to eliminate certain things."
There was a long silence. There was sweat on Holland's high forehead, and he was constantly kneading his fingers, as if he had lost all sensation in them. Several idiotic pictures kept appearing in his mind, pictures of Annie wearing a red snowsuit and Russian cap, Annie wearing a wedding dress. Annie with an infant on her lap. Pictures that he would never take.
"Tell me about Annie, about how she reacted."
Holland straightened up in his chair and paused to think. "I don't remember the date, but I remember the day because we overslept. I had the day off. Annie was late for her bus, but she came home early from school because she wasn't feeling well. I didn't dare tell her right away. She went to her room to lie down, said she was going to have a sleep."
"She was sick?"
"Yes, well, no, she was never sick. It was just something temporary. She woke up later in the day, and I sat in the living room, dreading having to tell her. Finally I went to her room and sat down on the edge of her bed."
"Go on."
"She was stunned," he said thoughtfully. "Stunned and frightened. Turned away and pulled the covers over her head. I mean, what can you say to that? Afterwards she didn't show much of her feelings; she grieved in silence. Ada wanted her to take some flowers over to the house, but she refused. She didn't want to go to the funeral either."
"Did you and your wife go?"
"Yes, yes, we did. Ada was upset because Annie wouldn't go, but I tried to explain that's it's hard for a child to go to a funeral. Annie was only 14. They don't know what they're supposed to say, do they?"
"Did she visit his grave later?"
"Oh yes, she did. Several times. But she never went to their house again."
"But she must have talked to them, didn't she? Since she had baby-sat for the boy?"
"I'm sure she did. She had spent a lot of time with them. Mostly with the mother. She moved, by the way; they were separated after a while. Of course it's difficult to find each other again after a tragedy like that. You have to start over with a new relationship. And none of us will ever be the way we once were."
He seemed to have disengaged from the conversation and was sitting there talking to himself, as if the other man didn't exist. "S酶lvi is the only one who's the same. I'm actually surprised that she can be the same after what's happened. But then she's not like other people. We have to take the children we've been given, though, don't we?"
"And ... Annie?" Sejer said.
"Yes, Annie," he murmured. "Annie was never the same. I think she realised that we're all going to die. I remember the same feeling when I was a boy, when my mother died; that was the worst thing. Not that she was dead and gone. But that I was going to die too. And