‘How are you feeling?’ The therapist had come up behind him without his realizing it. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts. They seemed to be spinning in an endless circle from which it was impossible to break free. ‘It’s time to make the decision we discussed. I don’t want to push you, but you’ll be released shortly and there’s no reason to leave it until the last minute. It’s never a good idea to do it that way.’ The man was kind, he would give him that, but it irritated Arnar that he spoke to him like a child.

‘I know.’ Arnar sat stock-still. He hated wearing dressing gown and pyjamas in the middle of the day, and if he stood up his absurd outfit was even more noticeable. ‘I guess I’ll just go home.’

‘Do you think that’s wise?’ The man smiled warmly at Arnar, who had to look away. ‘Many people think that they can utilize the experience from previous follow-up treatments and skip it, but it rarely works that way.’

An exit from the vicious circle suddenly opened up and Arnar made his choice. ‘I’m going home. That’s my final decision. It’ll be fine.’

The therapist sat down opposite him. He made a point of looking deep into Arnar’s eyes, as if to make contact with his innermost self. ‘A phone call came for you today.’

Arnar’s heart skipped a beat. The man said this so cautiously that it couldn’t be anything good. What had he thought? That none of this would come to the surface and that life would continue on its merry way? Arnar blinked as he regained his composure, then stared back at the therapist as if he had just got something in his eye. ‘And?’ He took care not to show any sign of the tension that clutched at him.

‘Nothing, really. The decision was made to wait a bit before letting you know, since there seems to be something serious going on. It’s never good to tackle things like this when one is recovering.’ The man cleared his throat nervously. ‘I just wanted to tell you in the hope that it would get you to change your mind. You will need support and we can’t give it to you if you go home. Nobody copes well with dramatic events post-treatment.’

More than anything Arnar wanted to prise more information out of the therapist by remaining silent, but he didn’t want to take that chance. He had to know more. ‘What phone call are you talking about? Who called?’

‘A police officer in Greenland. And then an Icelandic lawyer called and said that she was also in Greenland and was extremely eager to speak to you. We generally block these kinds of calls, but it’s different when the police are involved.’ The man appeared to be trying to read Arnar’s expression, without success. ‘If the Icelandic authorities want to speak to our patients we have to permit it, even though it goes against our policy. This is the first time a foreign police force has wanted to speak to one of our patients, and we’re exploring what options are available to us. We suggested that they contact their Icelandic colleagues if they deemed the case to be serious, but the officer who called didn’t say whether they would try that. I didn’t speak to the man personally, so I’m simply telling you what I’ve heard.’

‘What was this woman’s name and what did she want?’ Arnar knew exactly what the police wanted but he had no idea what business the lawyer could have with him. Maybe times were so hard that this is what lawyers were having to resort to: identifying people in deep shit and offering them their assistance. ‘She said it was related to your work. In Greenland. She wasn’t with the police, neither the Greenlandic nor the Icelandic force.’ The man looked at him, unable to hide his curiosity. ‘Weren’t you working there?’

‘Yes.’ Arnar would never discuss his problems here, but he needed to find out more about the woman. ‘Did she leave her name and phone number?’

‘As a matter of fact she did.’ The therapist did not appear to be about to give him this information. ‘I feel it inadvisable for you to make contact with anyone. Let these people figure things out for themselves and who knows, maybe it will turn out to be nothing and they’ll solve it without you needing to get involved.’ The man rocked in his chair slightly. ‘If you want to talk about it, I’m sworn to confidentiality.’

‘No. But thanks anyway.’ Arnar didn’t want to appear ungrateful. The man did not mean him any harm; he was just curious, like everyone else. No doubt it made a change to have a patient who was entangled in a police investigation and had something to discuss apart from tragic drunken binges. ‘This is probably some sort of misunderstanding on the part of the police. However, the woman might have something to do with work, so I’ve got to talk to her.’ He would have bet his right arm that she was only connected with his job indirectly, and then solely through events at the work site. ‘So I need to have that phone number.’

The therapist opened his mouth slightly and the pink tip of his tongue glistened. He seemed on the verge of pressing Arnar for more information, but then appeared to decide against it. ‘It’s on a slip of paper in reception. If you want to walk there with me, I’ll get it.’ They went together to the second floor. Arnar had to wait while the other man left the detox ward but he reappeared in a flash with a yellow Post-it note. He handed it to Arnar reluctantly. ‘I strongly advise you to enrol in the follow-up treatment and let this wait. Remember that you’re not well yet, by a long way.’

Arnar took the piece of paper wordlessly. Then he said goodbye and went back downstairs. He had some coins in his pocket from the time when he’d pretended to make a phone call to buy himself some space from his sponsor. He stuck a fifty-krónur piece into the coin slot and dialled the number of Thóra Gudmundsdóttir’s mobile phone. Although he had never heard of her, he thought it would be worthwhile to ask her what was happening. It could help him out to know if the police were now involved, as he would benefit from a little head start to think over his position before they questioned him. In order to gain it he would have to know what was up.

A familiar recorded message announced to him that the phone was out of range. Now it all depended on his making the phone call he had feared so much and hoped never to have to make.

‘I don’t understand this.’ Eyjólfur sounded like a scratched record. He had repeated himself so often that Thóra had stopped counting. ‘Arnar wasn’t here. He went home with the others.’

‘Couldn’t he have come back to chop his co-workers into little pieces?’ Bella exhaled gustily, and Thóra felt her warm breath on her ear. ‘Weren’t they the guys who harassed him?’

Eyjólfur seemed surprised that someone had been listening to what he said. ‘No. I mean, yes, but it doesn’t fit.’

‘Maybe this is someone else,’ suggested Alvar. ‘He’s lying on his stomach, so you can’t see much. I don’t get how you can be so sure who it is.’

‘It couldn’t be anyone else. He was the only one here who had a hat and boots like that.’ Eyjólfur pointed at the furry knee-length moon boots the corpse was wearing. Presumably out of respect for the dead he said nothing, but everyone thought the same; the boots literally cried out to be made fun of. The matching hat was just as flamboyant.

The photographer squatted next to the body and a policeman hunched down beside him. He took off his thick gloves and put on latex ones, then used tongs to lift the bottom of the hat from the body’s neck. The camera’s flash blinded the audience in the window for a moment but they recovered quickly and saw what it covered.

‘No disease killed that man.’ The doctor was the only one who did not gasp when the large cut on the back of the corpse’s neck was revealed. The hat’s white fur lining was blackened by a large stain, and it was as if the rabbit hair had stuck or frozen fast to the wound, which lifted slightly along with the hat. It was difficult to determine whether the bits pulled between the head and the hat were human hair or fur from the lining, but Thóra prayed they were one of the two and not something even more disgusting.

Thóra heard Friðrikka’s rapid breathing and cursed herself – and Matthew for good measure – for not having told her to wait at the table. Of course, Matthew had the excuse that he was woken with the news of the corpse behind the house, and thus hadn’t realized what was going on. Thóra, however, should have known better. She looked at Friðrikka, but couldn’t see her face through the red hair that had fallen over her cheeks. Her head hung on her chest, but from the way she was shuddering it looked as if she had finally lost it. ‘Friðrikka? Are you feeling OK? Maybe you should move away from the window and sit down. This could get even . . . worse.’

Suddenly Friðrikka’s heavy sobs filled the office. She grabbed the curtains and tried to pull them shut. The rings on the curtain rod were stuck and only one of them gave in to her efforts, since she was pulling more downwards than to the side. ‘Close the curtains. Close the curtains,’ begged Friðrikka hoarsely. ‘I can’t watch this.’

‘Then do as Thóra says and get away from the window. We want to watch,’ said Bella, spying her chance to move to a better spot. Eyjólfur, who had leaned closer to the window, was now muttering repeatedly: ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Matthew grabbed the young man’s shoulder and pulled him away from the window. ‘It’s not Arnar. His hair isn’t that long, and it’s blond.’ Eyjólfur exhaled heavily – he seemed to have an endless supply of air in his lungs. Thóra remembered that the Greenlandic policeman had been very surprised when Thóra and Matthew had informed him that Arnar lay dead behind the office building, asking her to repeat the name and enquiring whether Berg might have two employees named Arnar Jóhannesson. When Thóra said no, the officer had replied that it seemed unlikely the body was Arnar’s, since he had received information that the engineer was undergoing treatment for alcoholism in Iceland, as Thóra had mentioned. He said he hadn’t actually managed to talk to the man but had been assured nevertheless that he was there. Thóra had received a similar response when she’d called him from the hotel, after concluding her conversation with the final employee on her list, although the answer she’d received was more vague and did not actually confirm that Arnar was at Vogur Hospital.

Friðrikka gave a short scream, then sounded oddly calm when she whispered, ‘It’s Oddný Hildur,’ before breaking into uncontrollable sobs.

‘When can we leave?’ Friðrikka had stopped crying now that several hours had passed since she had recognized the corpse in the snow. In the meantime they had been given food and drink, although Friðrikka hadn’t been able to swallow a single morsel. The doctor had urged her to drink as much as she could since she was draining her body’s water supply with her floods of tears, and fortunately she had heeded him, since she would be shedding more tears by the end of the meal. ‘I can’t bear to be here any longer.’

‘I understand,’ said the police officer almost gently, before continuing in an entirely more commanding tone. ‘Unfortunately the helicopter can’t fly in the dark, so you can’t leave before dawn tomorrow. But the helicopter is here, and as soon as conditions are favourable you can leave.’

‘Do you have any idea what happened? I mean, to the woman you just found. Oddný Hildur.’ Eyjólfur was subdued and lethargic, and appeared distracted. It was as if this peculiar case had finally become too much for him. ‘It looked to us as if she’d been in an accident.’

‘I can’t tell for certain at the moment but it appears that the woman received a head injury, perhaps more than one. Hopefully we’ll figure it out.’

‘Where was she?’ asked Alvar. ‘I mean, it’s been several months since she disappeared and there’s no way she was behind the building the whole time.’ As usual, he blushed as he spoke. ‘I’m a rescuer and I know a bit about these things.’

At first the police officer refrained from speaking, as if he were trying to contain his desire to say something inappropriate. Then he said, with a hint of sarcasm, ‘I’ll tell you. At first glance it appeared the woman had been dead for quite some time. You can stop worrying about the search you conducted for her. It’s my understanding that although you did all you could to find her, things wouldn’t have turned out any differently even if you had searched for longer or in larger groups.’

‘So we could have saved her if we hadn’t given up?’ Friðrikka appeared to be completely disconnected from everything that was happening around her. ‘I knew it. I always said that.’ Eyjólfur started to say something in reply, but then decided against it. Even he felt sorry for her in this puffy-eyed, broken-down state. He pressed his lips shut and closed his eyes.

‘You’ve misunderstood me, madam. You could not have done anything to save the life of your friend. I just wanted to point that out to you in the hope that maybe you would feel a little bit better. As difficult as it is.’

‘Where did she come from?’ Matthew acted as if he didn’t notice when Thóra pinched him on the thigh. She had told him in private how the body had come to be behind the building and he had promised to keep quiet about it. ‘I’m wondering where her body has been all this time.’ Thóra felt relieved – the plan was working.

‘We don’t know,’ replied the policeman. ‘Probably outdoors, but somewhere sheltered from animals. She wasn’t out on the island; we searched there today and it’s out of the question that we missed her.’

‘The most pressing question is obviously who you believe is responsible for the woman’s death, if we presume that it wasn’t an accident.’ Like all of them, Finnbogi was looking tired, with bags starting to show beneath his eyes.

‘It isn’t possible to presume any such thing. But for the body to suddenly appear like this does raise certain suspicions.’

‘It seems pretty unlikely that a person could receive a gash like that to their neck by falling, especially on level ground; and if she had stumbled on a mountainside or a steep slope you would think more injuries would be visible on her body, even in a snow-suit. It looked to me as if all her limbs were as they should be, at least.’ Thóra found the doctor’s reasoning convincing.

‘As I said, all of this will be revealed, and it’s useless to be making guesses. If something unnatural occurred, we’ll get to the bottom of it, and there’s no need for you to spend time speculating about it.’

‘Changing the subject, I have a question.’ Thóra had to honour her promise about Usinna’s remains. ‘Will the bones that were found in the office definitely be returned to the family? It would be so sad if the woman were not allowed a permanent resting place.’

The police officer seemed not to find the question all that odd. ‘Yes, that’s almost certain. We have to confirm that the body is that particular woman and once that’s done there’ll be no reason to hold on to the bones. It shouldn’t take very long to do, since I expect we’ll be able to find her dentist, and then the x-rays should be sufficient to identify her. Things will be different if it turns out not to be her, however.’

‘Let’s hope that’s not the case. We’ve had enough dead people.’ Thóra leaned back in her chair.

‘I would examine the bones thoroughly. I’m certain that this woman was killed, just like Oddný Hildur. And that the villagers are the culprits. I’ve always said that and I’ve always known it.’ Friðrikka spoke without looking the policeman in the eye – perhaps because of his race. The officer did not seem to take it personally.

‘We’ve already started questioning people from this area, especially those Arnar was in touch with, and we’ll see what comes out of that. We’ll find the guilty party; it will just take some time to clarify who he is and what he did. Maybe he was just guilty of moving bodies from one place to another.’

‘And of cutting them up,’ added Matthew. ‘Somebody took it upon himself to do that and I think it’s fairly clear that none of us was involved.’

The policeman shrugged. ‘It will all be explained. We have a lot of evidence, partly due to your initiative, and although much of it appears incomprehensible, these cases are usually solved when everything is put together and people start talking.’ He didn’t specify which people he meant. Instead, he clapped his hands and tried to smile good-naturedly, though the result looked more like a facial cramp. ‘I’ll have more mattresses brought over and you can decide whether you’ll all sleep here in the meeting room or in different places, but I have locked the offices. If you want something to eat or drink it would be good for me to know about that now, but otherwise one of my men will be posted here tonight and he can help you if anything comes up.’

‘What could come up?’ As ever, it didn’t take much to upset Friðrikka. She would doubtless worry about this until she fell asleep and unfortunately everyone near her would hear all about it.

The police officer spoke soothingly. ‘Hopefully nothing, but in the unlikely event that it does, the officer will be on guard.’

‘Are you implying that the person who did this will return?’ Friðrikka would not be persuaded. She clutched at her chest and stared, terrified, at the police officer.

‘Will you just shut up for once,’ hissed Eyjólfur. Whether it was down to his words or to the policeman’s obvious exhaustion, Friðrikka fell silent and wiped away the tears that still streamed down her cheeks.

When Thóra finally fell asleep Friðrikka was still weeping and her soft sobs, which had bothered Thóra for so long, had now started to have a soothing effect. It had been decided that Thóra and Matthew would move from the meeting room along with Friðrikka and sleep in the records storage room that was a bit further down the corridor. They thought it might be a bad idea to leave Friðrikka and Eyjólfur in the same room overnight.

When the sound of cars driving into the camp and the glare of the floodlights filled the room a short time later, Matthew was the only one still awake. Only the sound of heavy breathing came from Friðrikka’s mattress. Matthew did not have the heart to wake Thóra and get her to come with him to see what was happening. Thus he was the only witness to the police dragging Naruana, the hunter’s son, out of the car and over to the cafeteria.