"She told me a lot about Halvor's father. About how terribly nice he was as a boy. And how he was an unhappy man."
"I believe it. Since he was capable of beating his own children."
"And she says that Halvor has been holed up in his room. He apparently sits in front of his PC all evening and sometimes well into the night."
"What do you think he's doing?"
"I have no idea. Maybe he's writing a diary."
"In that case, I'd like to read it."
"Are you going to bring him in again?"
"Certainly."
They emptied their glasses and got to their feet. On their way out Skarre caught sight of a photo of Elise, with her dazzling smile.
"Your wife?" he said.
"The last one she had taken."
"She looks like Grace Kelly," Skarre said. "How did an old grouch like you ever capture such a beauty?"
Sejer was so taken aback by this boundless impudence that he actually stuttered as he answered mildly, "I wasn't an old grouch back then."
The car crunched over the gravel road to Lundeby Church. It was floodlit now and stood in the pink-coloured light with solemn self-possession, as if it had stood there forever. In reality it was only 150 years old, a minuscule sigh in the crown of eternity. They shut the car doors without a sound, stood next to the vehicle, and listened for a moment. Skarre looked around, took a few steps towards the chapel, and headed for the rows of graves in the foreground. Ten white headstones, evenly spaced.
"What's this?"
They stopped to read the gravestones.
"Military graves," Sejer said. "British and Canadian soldiers. The Germans shot them here in the woods on the ninth of April 1940. Children put white anemones on the graves every May 17th. My daughter Ingrid told me about it."
"'Pilot Officer, Royal Air Force. A. F. Le Maistre of Canada. Age 26. God gave and God has taken.' A long way to come for such a brief heroic act."
Skarre looked around him. "All the way from Canada, in his new uniform, to fight for those on the side of justice. And then gunfire and death."
They had laid Annie to rest at the edge of the cemetery, down near a large field of barley. The flowers had faded and were beginning to decay. The two officers stared at them, each lost in his own thoughts. Then they began to read the inscriptions on the other headstones. Two rows beyond Annie's grave, Sejer found what he was looking for. A small headstone, rounded on top, with a beautifully etched inscription. Skarre bent down and read what it said. "Our beloved Eskil?"
Sejer nodded. "Eskil Johnas. Born August 4, 1992, died November 17, 1994."
"Johnas? The carpet dealer?"
"The carpet dealer's son. He got something caught in his throat and choked to death. After he died the marriage fell apart. Which isn't so strange; indeed, apparently it's quite common. But Johnas has an older son who lives with his mother."
"He had pictures of the boys on the wall," Skarre said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "What's that little hollow on the top?"
"Someone must have stolen something from the headstone. Maybe there was a bird or an angel. There often is on children's graves."
"Strange that they haven't replaced it. It seems such a fragile little grave. Looks almost neglected. I thought it was only old people who were forgotten like this."
They turned and looked down at the fields surrounding the cemetery on all sides. Lights from the nearby rectory flickered piously in the blue dusk. "I suppose it's not easy to get out here. The mother moved to Oslo and it's a long way from there."
"It would only take Johnas two minutes."
Skarre looked in the other direction, towards Fagerlund Ridge, where the houses glittered below Kollen.
"He can see the church from his living-room window," Sejer said. "I remember seeing it when we were at his house. Maybe he thinks that's enough."
"His dog must have had her pups by now."
Sejer didn't answer.
"Where are we headed next?"
"I don't really know, but this little chap is dead." He glanced down at the grave again and frowned. "And Annie became a different person afterwards. Why would she take it so hard? She was a tough girl with lots of energy. Isn't it true that healthy, normal people get over these things? Isn't it in our nature to accept death and go on living, at least after a certain amount of time has passed?"