The Water's Edge - By Karin Fossum Page 0,16

these things out into the open,' he said. 'It's important to talk about them to get them out of your system.'

'But you don't want them out of your system.'

Reinhardt tossed his head. 'Listen,' he said sternly, 'I can talk about whatever I like. Do you have a problem with that?'

Irmelin and Kjell exchanged glances and Kristine fell silent. Then she got up and went out into the kitchen to make coffee. Irmelin followed her.

'I can't bear to hear him go on about it any longer, I'm trying to forget,' she whispered. She was making filter coffee, but had forgotten to count the measures of ground coffee. Irmelin looked at her with compassion; she, too, was appalled at the murder. This was not merely something they had read about in the paper, this was real to them.

'Do you know what he did?' Kristine whispered. 'He took pictures up there with his mobile.'

'What?' Irmelin's jaw dropped.

'He squatted down and took a load of pictures.'

'Not of the boy, surely?'

'Yes. And I bet he's showing them to Kjell.'

They listened towards the living room. The men had lowered their voices, but they could hear Kjell's deep bass and Reinhardt's tenor.

'I'm really scared he'll show them at work, too, that he'll sit in the canteen with his mobile showing them to all and sundry. You know what he's like.'

Irmelin fixed her with a stare.

'You never draw the line. You have to start putting your foot down, Kristine, he has far too much power over you.'

'I know.'

The coffee gurgled into the pot. Outside it was clouding over and the light in the kitchen grew dim.

'Everything's hopeless,' Kristine whispered. She shrugged forlornly. 'Some days I just want to pack my bags and leave. But I don't know where to go.'

'How long has this been going on?' Irmelin whispered back. 'It's been a long time since I last saw you looking really happy.'

Kristine thought about this.

'To tell you the truth, it's been going on for years. I can barely get through the days or the nights. Him lying next to me, breathing.'

She looked furtively at her friend, unsure how honest she should be. 'I don't even like the smell of him any more, I don't like his voice. He takes up so much space. I want him to sleep somewhere else. What I really want is to be on my own.'

'You're not frightened of him, are you?' Irmelin said. 'That's not what we're talking about, is it?'

'No, I'm not scared of him. But when he goes on and on about something, it just wears me down.'

'You don't assert yourself.'

'I'm afraid to,' she said, ashamed. 'Because I don't know what's going to happen if I contradict him.'

Irmelin squeezed her hand.

'Try it once,' she said. 'Try it once and see what happens. He's not going to hit you, is he?'

'Oh, no, he would never hit me. But he breaks me in other ways. I'm such a coward.'

'You've got to stand up to him once and for all and tell him what you think,' Irmelin stated. 'He'll be able to handle it, you keep telling me how strong he is.'

'I'm scared that something will break,' she said, 'if I tell it like it is. If I start being completely honest with him, then nothing will be like it was before.'

'But you don't want it to be. Try something different, stand up for yourself and tell him what you think. Perhaps it'll turn out better than you imagine.'

Kristine fetched mugs from a cupboard and poured coffee.

'Most of all I want to leave,' she said, 'but I can't leave without taking something with me. If I don't have something to take with me, then all these years will have been for nothing.'

'Take something with you? What do you mean?'

'A child,' she said.

'But do you want a child with him? When you can't stand him?'

'Well, who else is there?' She shrugged despondently. 'I'm thirty-seven years old.'

Then she pulled herself together and started to defend him.

'Perhaps he's just clueless,' she said. 'Perhaps he's as shocked as I am, and he can't think of any other way to express it. I mean, he's a man, after all. They're hopeless when it comes to showing their feelings.'

Irmelin shook her head. 'You always try to defend him,' she said. She got up and went over to the door to the living room; she hid behind it and spied on the men through the crack between the door and the frame.

'You were right,' she whispered. 'They're looking at the pictures