Mia Krüger was sitting at a table by the window in a Kaffebrenneriet café, trying to force herself to wake up. She had passed out on the bed in her hotel room, having set the alarm first as she felt too guilty to allow herself more than a few hours’ sleep. But her body disagreed; it wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, crawl under the duvet, keep on dreaming.
She strangled a yawn and called Kim Kolsø.
“Yes? Kim speaking.”
“Did we get anything from the nursing-home staff?”
“No.” He sighed. “No one knew her very well. Malin Stoltz would appear to have kept mostly to herself.”
“Are you still up there?”
“No, we’re coming back to town now. We need to contact any members of staff who weren’t at work today. See if we can get anything from them.”
“Keep me informed, will you?”
“Will do.”
Mia strangled another yawn and went up to order another coffee. It was the only way she could jump-start herself. Coffee. And plenty of it. To get her head in gear again. Her body going. She had dreamed about a maze of mirrors and been unable to find her way out; she had felt utterly confused and trapped, and the feeling still weighed her down. She ordered a double espresso and was about to carry it back to her seat by the window when she suddenly noticed two women absorbed in an intimate but rather loud conversation at a table close to the counter.
She couldn’t avoid overhearing what they were talking about.
“So we tried everything, but it didn’t work,” one of them said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was it you or your husband who couldn’t have them?” the other one said.
“They never found out,” the first woman said.
“How awful for you,” the second woman said.
“Yes, if it hadn’t been for the support group, I never would’ve gotten over it. As for him, he just refused to talk about it,” the first woman said.
“Have you thought about adoption?” the second woman said.
“I really want to, but he . . . well, I don’t think he does. I can’t make him talk about that either.”
“How stupid. Surely helping a child with no parents benefits everyone? It’s a win-win.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I said, but he—”
“I’m sorry,” Mia said, walking up to them. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”
The two women stared at her.
“A support group?” Mia asked. “What kind of support group were you talking about?”
The first woman looked a little offended, but she replied nevertheless.
“A support group for women who can’t have children. Why do you want to know?”
“I have a friend . . .” Mia began, but changed her mind. “I . . . I can’t have children, sadly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the first woman said, her attitude changing. She was no longer offended. Mia was a fellow club member—they were playing for the same team.
“Was that here in Oslo?” Mia continued.
“Yes.” The woman nodded. “In Bøler.”
“Are there many of them around?” Mia wanted to know.
“Yes, they’re everywhere. Where do you live?”
“Thank you so much,” Mia said. “I’ll look for one.”
“You’re welcome,” the woman said. “Have you thought about adoption?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Mia said, picking up her coffee from the counter. “Thank you so much.”
“We need to stick together.” The woman gently squeezed Mia’s arm.
“Yes, we do.”
Mia carefully carried her coffee back to her table, just as her phone rang.
“Yes? Mia speaking.”
“It’s Ludvig, are you busy?”
“No.”
“I’ve got something. On the church.”
“What is it?”
“We investigated them some years ago. Hvelven Care Center in Hønefoss made a complaint.”
“Go on.”
“Looks like the church has done this before. Persuaded old people to leave them their money.”
“In Hønefoss?”
“Yes, three cases. None of them went to court. They were resolved through mediation.”
A nursing home in Hønefoss. The nursing home in Høvik. There had to be a link.
“Can you get me the names of all staff working there during the time frame we’re talking about?”
“It’s on its way,” Ludvig said.
“Can you check another thing for me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can you check if there was a support group for childless people in Hønefoss in the period before the baby disappeared?”
“Of course I can. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning when everything opens again.”
“Super. Any news about Malin Stoltz?”
“Still missing without a trace.”
“We’ll find her.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Ludvig said.
“Thank you, Ludvig.”
“You’re welcome.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Mia ended the call, knocked back her coffee in one gulp, put on her leather jacket, and left the café with a smile on her lips.