The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jonasson (ap literature book list .txt) 📕

‘Was he an old schoolfriend of yours? That’s what you told me in church.’

‘Yes, that’s right. He was at school with me.’

Una darted a glance at Thór, who lowered his gaze, clearly intending to stay out of it. ‘I saw a photo of him in the paper,’ she said. ‘He’s the man they’re looking for in Reykjavík. He’s been missing for quite some time. Then I heard that he was linked to the Hannes and Hilmar case. As a suspect.’

Hjördís didn’t say anything.

‘Haven’t you seen a picture of him?’ Una persisted.

‘Yes. It’s not the same man. I should know,’ Hjördís said, then added, with an edge to her voice: ‘I expect you were drunk.’

So her drinking was common knowledge now. With a horrible sinking feeling, Una realized that there was a conspiracy in the village to blame the alcohol for her ‘confusion’. They had all turned against her. But she wasn’t giving up; she couldn’t give up now.

Not when it was blatantly obvious from Hjördís’s evasive eyes that she was lying.

XXXIII

‘Did he leave straight away the following morning?’

‘What does that matter?’ Hjördís asked angrily. ‘What does it matter what some old schoolfriend of mine did or didn’t do? I don’t even know what he wanted out here.’

‘I can always ring the police again and tell them to talk to you this time.’

‘Why don’t you go ahead?’ Hjördís fired back, even angrier than before.

‘Did something happen? While he was visiting you? Something that might explain why he disappeared?’

‘What the hell has it got to do with you, Una?’

It was Una’s turn to raise her voice: ‘Everybody’s lying to me! A little girl is dead, a man has vanished. Perhaps the two things are linked – who knows?’

‘Of course they’re not linked!’ Hjördís shouted.

‘Then tell me the truth!’ Una shouted back.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Hjördís said, the heat going out of her voice.

At this point Thór looked up, straight into Una’s eyes, then turned to Hjördís. ‘Just tell her,’ he said in a quiet, level voice. ‘Just tell her.’

‘What? What do you mean? We can’t,’ Hjördís retorted.

‘Of course we can. It’s our secret, for Christ’s sake.’

Hjördís leapt to her feet. ‘Stop it, before you say too much.’

‘It’s our secret and I trust her.’ He looked back at Una, his eyes suddenly bright with despair. ‘I can trust you, Una, can’t I?’ Then he corrected himself: ‘We can trust you?’

Una was momentarily lost for words. She stared at Thór, knowing perfectly well what her answer would be. She was dying to hear more. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said at last.

‘Fuck this,’ Hjördís said. ‘You’ve got to be fucking joking.’

‘It’s all right, Hjördís. Una’s one of us now. The whole village shares our secret and now Una does too. There’s no point keeping it from her any longer. We’ve tried, but it didn’t work. And I have no desire to see the police back here.’

Nineteen eighty-six.

Björg would be thirty this year. When she was younger, she used to dread this landmark, seeing it as the year when she would be properly grown up. But never in her worst nightmares could she have imagined that she would be spending it in a prison cell.

It was five years since she had been convicted.

She had been told that she could probably apply for parole in three years. That wasn’t such a long time in the great scheme of things. She’d missed out on so much already; the best years of her life had passed her by. She had long ago given up the fight to get her case reopened, as it seemed hopeless, so now the most she had to look forward to was getting out of prison in three years or so, burdened with a murder conviction, alone, uneducated and destitute. After that she would have to try somehow to get back on her feet and build a life for herself.

She had long ago stopped believing that she had murdered Hannes and Hilmar. The police’s lies had lost their power of persuasion now that she was no longer locked up in solitary confinement.

It was too late to do anything about that now. And clearly there was no white knight coming to rescue her.

There was nothing to do but count down the days.

For three more long years.

XXXIV

‘You mentioned the Hannes and Hilmar affair,’ Thór began.

‘Yes?’

‘Presumably you’re familiar with what happened?’

Una nodded.

When Thór didn’t continue, she felt compelled to fill the gap: ‘Three young people murdered two men called Hannes and Hilmar. About six or seven years ago. The bodies were never found but they all confessed to the killings.’

‘That’s right,’ Thór said.

‘And, er, the girlfriend of one of them was among the killers, as far as I can remember. It was all very shocking.’

‘Yes, Hannes’s girlfriend,’ Thór said. ‘Her name’s Björg. She confessed, like the others. Hannes and Hilmar were mixed up in a drugs ring – a big-scale operation, with some extremely dangerous men behind it.’

Una couldn’t remember the details, but she did recall the furore surrounding it and the way it had dominated the headlines. Even politicians had been drawn into the debate and had put pressure on the police to solve the case. Nevertheless, it had been some time before the three young people had been arrested and had finally confessed.

‘Una,’ Thór said gravely. ‘Una, you remember your promise. What we tell you now must never, ever, go any further.’

She nodded, doubtfully though.

‘The thing is, Una, I know that the people concerned, Hannes’s girlfriend and the two men … I know that they’re all innocent. And that’s not all. I know who really did it –’

XXXV

Una had a horrible feeling she knew where this conversation was heading.

She braced herself during the pause that followed Thór’s words. I know who really did it … She waited, her body tense, for him to come out and say it, to confess to murder, even double murder. The man she was so attracted to. Could she really have fallen for a killer? Swift