‘Just … well, has she been acting oddly? Frightened or nervous?’

  Sigurlaug shook her head and frowned.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean by that. She can hardly have been aware herself that she was about to be kidnapped?’

  Flosi was lost, not knowing how Daníel wanted him to respond, but instead he stepped in.

  ‘We were wondering if there was anything in Guðrún’s life that you might know about, but which Flosi wouldn’t,’ Daníel said. His voice was soft and deep, and it seemed to have a calming effect on Sigurlaug. Flosi heard her sigh heavily.

  ‘Such as what?’ she asked, staring at Daníel, who returned her glare steadily.

  ‘I don’t know. A lover, maybe?’

  Flosi snorted in disbelief, and so did Sigurlaug.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said and levelled a glance at Flosi that he felt contained an element of accusation. ‘Guðrún isn’t wired to be unfaithful.’

  Flosi’s imagination was running at full speed. Did Sigurlaug know about his relationship with Bergrós? Was that what she was implying? Because if Sigurlaug knew, then there was a good chance Guðrún did too. And how did that fit into all this? And what the hell was Daníel doing asking if she had a lover? Despite everything that had coursed through his mind since Monday, that was one thing that hadn’t occurred to him. Sigurlaug was quite right that Guðrún would never cheat on him. Or would she?

  Flosi stood up and felt faint. He was confused and upset, and most of all he longed to burst into tears, but he wasn’t going to do that in front of Sigurlaug, so he rushed out to the hall and paced back and forth with quick steps. All the while he took deep breaths, right down into his belly to help gain control of his emotions before going back to face Daníel and Sigurlaug in the kitchen. He could hear their voices, speaking in low tones.

  He was startled by the doorbell ringing. He rushed to the door, somehow expecting Guðrún to be standing there, in person, telling him that it had all been a misunderstanding, just a terrible nightmare, and that in a few moments he would wake up and discover that the worst days of his whole life had just been a couple of hours of bad dreams, and everything would go back to where it had been before. But it wasn’t Guðrún at the door, it was Karen. She was carrying shopping bags and smiling at him, and the familiarity of her smile and her concern, and the fact that she appeared to have come to cook him a meal were somehow all too much for him, and he fell into her arms and wept.

  At that moment Sigurlaug appeared in the hallway and squeezed past them on her way out.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful, having a spare to fall back on?’ she hissed and her heels clicked as she strutted out to her car.

  Flosi looked up and wiped his face, Karen’s hands still on his shoulders, and wondered whether or not Daníel, who was now also standing in the hall, had heard Sigurlaug’s parting remark.

  41

  ‘How did you say you knew her, this Sigurlaug?’ Daníel asked.

  Helena looked uncomfortable, standing in Flosi’s back garden. Through the windows they could see Flosi pacing back and forth, in conversation with his former wife, who was busy in the kitchen.

  ‘Uh, we’ve dated. Sort of.’

  Helena buried her hands deep in her pockets and stared at something in the distance, beyond next door’s garden. Daníel followed her gaze but there was nothing to be seen. She was staring into the distance so as not to have to look at him.

  ‘So what do you know about her?’

  Helena’s expression became even more perplexing.

  ‘Look, when I say we dated, that’s maybe an exaggeration,’ she said. ‘I know very little about her. We haven’t talked all that much.’

  ‘Where did you meet?’ Daníel asked, and Helena glanced at him quickly, and then down at the waterlogged lawn, pushing the toe of one shoe into the soft earth.

  ‘Through an app,’ she said, still looking at the ground, before drawing a long breath, clearing her throat and looking up. ‘Fuck it. I’ll be straight with you. I don’t know her at all, but we’ve fucked loads of times. We have a mutual hook-up arrangement. I didn’t even know her name was Sigurlaug. On the app she calls herself Sirra and there’s no name on the doorbell at her house.’

  ‘It didn’t ring any alarm bells when you saw her address on the system?’ Daníel asked.

  ‘No. I hadn’t read Kristján’s report on Sigurlaug. Sorry.’

  Daníel wanted to break into his usual lecture on the importance of every member of the team staying constantly abreast of every item of information that was uploaded onto the system. But of all people, Helena was the last one who deserved that kind of dressing down. Although things had gone wrong this time, she was normally the most reliable of them all, if still a little inexperienced and not as intuitive as she might be.

  ‘So when you saw her coming, you decided to make yourself scarce so she wouldn’t see you?’

  ‘That’s right. She knows I’m a cop.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Daníel said. ‘That’s clear. I’ll put it in writing and make sure that Oddsteinn knows, so that all the formalities are in order.’

  Their eyes met, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing. If this Sirra was linked to the abduction and had also been watching the house, then the attempt to disguise Helena in a vehicle belonging to Flosi’s company wasn’t going to be convincing. Sigurlaug could have recognised her from a distance and become aware that Flosi had gone to the police.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Helena said, as if responding to his unspoken thoughts. ‘I don’t see her as a kidnapper.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ Daníel said, although both of them knew that a feeling for people wasn’t of much value in a police investigation. They needed things to be proved, or in this case, disproved.

  ‘How about,’ she began, ‘I drop by her place this evening and look around?’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘A quick look round for signs of anything out of the ordinary, that someone might have stayed there. Anything unusual.’

  ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘You have to keep away from her now, until we can be sure she doesn’t have a connection to the investigation.’

  Helena looked at him, hesitating.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just that … the one evening Sirra and I arranged to meet recently, which was actually on Tuesday night, she wanted to come to me. That’s unusual, because she always prefers us to be at her place.’ Helena fumbled in her pocket for a moment. ‘Look, here are the messages from Tuesday when I suggested we meet up. “Happy to hook up but it’ll have to be at your place”.’

  This was certainly interesting. Could Sigurlaug have been blackmailing Guðrún in some way? That would explain the payments from Guðrún’s account, which Sigurlaug had just now explained as money Guðrún had let her have so it could be prudently invested on her behalf. Guðrún wanted some money of her own, independent of her husband’s wealth. It had sounded plausible the way Sigurlaug had explained it. But maybe it wasn’t true. Perhaps Sigurlaug had been squeezing money out of her, and once Guðrún’s account had been emptied, she had abducted her so that she could extort money from Flosi. Daníel thought the options over for a moment while Helena watched him. This was how it sometimes was between them, when she could almost hear him thinking.

  ‘What if Guðrún is bound, gagged and drugged in Sirra’s spare bedroom?’ she said.

  ‘Sirra certainly encouraged Flosi to pay the ransom, and she was a touch too emphatic about it,’ he said, and they stared at each other. He was ahead of her in dismissing the thought. ‘Nah,’ he said, and Helena said the same thing a second later.

  ‘Nah.’

  It was too far-fetched to imagine that Guðrún’s friend could have forced her out of the house and into her own place, keeping her there against her will. On the other hand, everything about Sigurlaug was beginning to lend weight to another theory that was gradually taking shape in his mind, and when the phone in his pocket rang and he saw Palli’s number on the screen, he knew before answering the call that what he would tell him would support his line of thinking.

  ‘Fucking hell, Daníel,’ Palli said. ‘You’re a genius. Just try and guess what I’ve just seen on one of the traffic cam recordings?’

  42

  Áróra re-arranged the blanket so that it hid the chain snaking from the steel bracelet on her wrist to the briefcase on the business class seat at her side. These days, when she travelled with money, she always booked a seat for the cash as well, as it was difficult to sit with someone beside you when the briefcase had to be on your knees for the whole flight. The spare seat at her side also meant that she escaped the usual questions from people who were invariably curious about the contents of the case shackled firmly to her hand.

  Once they had collected the cash from the safety deposit box at the bank and driven to the airport, accompanied by a security guard Michael had brought along, airport security had taken over and led her through the fast-track route. She handed over the documentation that accompanied the money, and the briefcase had been X-rayed in a special machine so the chain didn’t have to be released from her wrist. In fact, the chain couldn’t be released. Only Michael knew the code to the lock built into the steel bracelet, and he would give Flosi the numbers over the phone that evening, when Áróra had reached her destination.

  One of the cabin crew brought her a drink and leaned over, asking if there was anything else she could bring her, an extra cushion, or anything to make her more comfortable – she had noticed the briefcase, because the blanket had slipped once again and it was visible to anyone passing along the aisle. Áróra courteously declined, and draped the blanket back over the case. It would be a relief to arrive at Flosi’s house and be rid of it. But there was something else that was making her uncomfortable. The large amounts passing through Flosi’s account were highly suspicious, and she wondered whether to tell Daníel about them right away, or to do some of her own digging first.

  Michael had given her viewing access to the accounts on the condition that she kept anything she saw totally confidential. The fact that he had allowed her access to a client’s account was a real concern for Áróra, as this alone indicated just how serious he judged the situation to be. Although Michael was an expert in helping people keep their money out the taxman’s sight, frequently breaking laws in the process, he normally fiercely defended the interests and confidentiality of his clients. But these were unusual circumstances, and it could well be in Flosi’s own interests for them to identify the source of the cash that had flowed through his account in Panama; there might be something there that could link to his wife. It was clear that Flosi had more secrets than he had let on about.

  At Keflavík airport a security guard met her at the airbridge and accompanied her to customs, where she registered the money entering the country and provided copies of her identification documents. Flosi could expect a hefty bill from the taxman next year, as well as some tough questions about the origins of this money, and why he hadn’t declared it before as income.

  She looked around the arrivals hall. Daníel had told her that he would send a plain-clothes police officer to fetch her. She scanned the waiting faces, and her heart took an extra beat when she saw Daníel himself standing near the front of the crowd, his eyes already on her before she had seen him. He smiled quickly as their eyes met, and a smile immediately crossed her face as a little rush of warmth went through her.

  43

  The moment Sirra opened the door, Helena regretted going against Daníel’s instructions. Sirra was surprised to see Helena, and clearly less than delighted. The sizzling look that Helena usually got from her was noticeably absent, while her eyes were dull and puffy, as if she had been weeping.

  ‘What..?’ She looked Helena up and down, as if she had somehow forgotten they had arranged to meet. ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she said.

  Helena did her best to put on a cheerful, carefree front, as if she had casually decided to drop in – which was, however, something completely at odds with the agreement between them.

  ‘Thought I’d check on you,’ she said with a broad smile.

  Sirra’s smile in response was faint.

  ‘But you always text.’

  ‘Yeah, but I was in the area and thought I’d stop by. A spur-of-the-moment thing. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘I’m not exactly in the mood for company right now,’ Sirra said, but stepped aside to allow Helena to enter.

  The apartment was almost dark, apart from a small lamp that glowed next to the large living-room window overlooking Laugardalur valley. If Helena had been inclined to guess what Sirra had been doing just before she knocked, she would have imagined her sitting under the dim lamp, looking out into the autumn gloom with the melancholy expression that seemed to have settled on her face.

  ‘Anything wrong?’ Helena asked, taking her arm.

  Sirra placed her hand over Helena’s.

  ‘Nothing in particular,’ she said, forcing another smile. ‘Just feeling down somehow.’

  ‘OK,’ Helena said. ‘I’m here if you need to talk.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like a beer now that you’re here? You’re not on call, are you?’

  ‘No,’ Helena said quickly. ‘A beer would go down well.’

  Sirra disappeared and began bustling around the kitchen. Helena heard the fridge open and the clink of glasses, and took the chance to check out the corridor and the rooms leading off it. There was a double bed in one, with a rolled-up duvet on it, but not in a duvet cover, as if a guest might be expected. Helena didn’t know if this was normal, as she had never looked into this room before. Normally they went straight to Sirra’s bedroom, and sometimes they hadn’t got further than the sofa in the living room.

  Helena went quickly into the little bathroom off the corridor, quietly shut the door and opened the cupboards. They were mostly empty, with no toothbrushes or gels to be seen. Sirra kept her own cosmetics in the en-suite bathroom leading off her bedroom, but guests staying over could be expected to use this one. But there were no signs of any guests. Helena flushed the toilet and let water run from the tap into the basin for a moment before returning to the living room.

  Sirra had switched on more lights and sat on the sofa with a glass of white wine in her hand, and in front of her stood a tall glass of beer with nuts in a little dish next to it. Sirra did everything in style. She would never serve a drink other than as if in a bar. And she would never dream of asking anyone to drink beer straight from the bottle, as Helena habitually did at home to keep washing up to a minimum.

  ‘How are things?’ Helena said as she sat next to Sirra. ‘What’s bugging you?’

  Sirra smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. She seemed to be returning to her normal self. Maybe a visit was what had been needed to cheer her up.

  ‘Ach, I don’t know,’ Sirra said. ‘Probably this autumn weather. The trees turning that rusty colour. Maybe I ought to take myself south to the sun sometime soon.’

  ‘Not a bad idea,’ Helena agreed, and an image came unbidden to her mind of her and Sirra side by side on sun loungers, cocktails in hand, Sirra’s body glistening with sun-tan lotion.

  They finished their drinks in silence, clinking glasses twice, but Sirra seemed to have no desire to talk. Daníel’s trick clearly didn’t work every time. It wasn’t always enough to sit quietly, waiting for the other person to fill the void. For that the silence needed to be awkward, even uncomfortable. But there was nothing uncomfortable about sitting and enjoying a drink without saying anything.

  When Sirra broke the silence, it was to give Helena an oblique hint that it was time to go, saying she wasn’t in the mood, that she needed to be by herself. Helena got to her feet and Sirra stood up to see her to the door. In the hallway Helena noticed a huge, brightly coloured bunch of flowers that had been placed against the mirror on the sideboard. She hadn’t noticed it on the way in. Sirra’s discomfort had taken all her attention.

  ‘Fabulous flowers,’ she said, and Sirra smiled at the sight of the red-gold lilies arranged above a sea of green.

  ‘Yes, a friend brought them for me,’ Sirra said, picking up a leaf that had fallen from the bouquet onto the sideboard.

  ‘Friend?’ Helena said, lifting an eyebrow.

  ‘No, not like that. Just a friend,’ Sirra said, and a shadow crossed her face, as if the sadness that had been banished for a moment had returned to her eyes. Helena hugged her. Sirra pressed her close, quickly, and just as quickly let go.

  ‘You know where I am,’ Helena said. ‘Just to talk if that’s what you need. About whatever.’

  Now Sirra laughed, although there was no joy in her laughter, and there was even a sharpness in her eyes.

  ‘I remember you saying at the beginning that you didn’t go in for drama. That you didn’t want any emotional entanglements.’

  ‘Yeah. But all the same,’ Helena said. ‘You know where to find me.’

  She could hear how empty her own words sounded, and as she walked to her car, she could feel a flush of self-reproach that made her throat and cheeks burn. This hadn’t been a good day for female relationships. First there had been Beta’s rejection, and now Sirra’s strange demeanour, which, much as she would have liked to ignore her detective’s instincts, Helena found rather suspicious.

  44

  ‘I had a massive sense of hopelessness this morning when the plane took off over Reykjanes,’ Áróra said as she sat at Daníel’s side and looked out of the window. There was nothing but darkness out there on this stretch of the road where the lights seemed to have stopped working and only the reflectors near the verge lit up as the headlights caught them. ‘I’ve searched so many tracks, and there are so many more. All that wild land. All that jagged lava. The sea all around.’

  ‘True,’ he said. There wasn’t much more he could say. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Early in the summer she had told him that she had bought a drone to search areas alongside these tracks around the city.