Emilie Isaksen could not believe her eyes when she stepped inside the small house. The hallway was dark and so full of junk that she had trouble navigating it. The rest of the house wasn’t much better. Rotting food scraps, ashtrays, bags of trash that no one had disposed of. It was all she could do not to hold her nose. Even so, she tried putting on a brave face. She didn’t want to make things any harder for the little boy than what he’d already been through. All alone for a whole week in this dump of a home, without food or anyone to look after him. Emilie Isaksen was outraged, but she managed a smile.
“Would you like to see our secret hiding place?” Torben asked her.
He seemed overjoyed to have a visitor. He had looked almost startled when he opened the door to her, scared and with large, tearful eyes, but now he was starting to liven up.
“Yes, please.” Emilie followed the little boy up the stairs to the first floor.
The first floor was just as bad as the ground floor. Emilie struggled to make sense of it all. It was almost too much for her. Poverty was one thing, but this? It wasn’t until they reached what was clearly the two boys’ bedroom that the house began to resemble a home. It smelled clean inside, and the room was tidy and light.
“We hide things inside the mattress in case the baddies come,” Torben explained, kneeling in front of the bed.
He unzipped the thin mattress and pulled it apart so that Emilie could see it.
“Is that the note from Tobias?” Emilie pointed at it.
“Yes.” Torben nodded eagerly.
“Please, may I see it?”
“Of course.”
He stuck a filthy hand into the secret hiding place and gave her the note.
“I’m going to spy on the Christian girls, I will be back soon. Tobias.”
“Do you know when he wrote it?”
The little boy thought hard. “No. But it must have been before I came home, because it was here when I got back.”
Emilie couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sure you’re right. So when did you get back?”
“After the soccer match.”
“Which soccer match was that? Do you remember?”
“Liverpool against Norwich. I watched it at my friend Clas’s house. They get the soccer games on their TV—not just the Norwegian Cup Final but all kinds of games. Clas and I support Liverpool. They won.”
“Would that have been last Saturday?”
“Probably, I guess.” Torben nodded, scratching his hair.
The boy was covered in grime, and he didn’t smell too good either. He needed a bath, clean clothes, food, fresh bedlinen. Today was Friday. He had been home alone since last Saturday evening. Emilie sat on the floor in the boys’ bedroom somewhat at a loss. What was she going to do? She couldn’t leave the boy here alone. Then again, she couldn’t take him home either. Or could she?
“Do you want to see what else we keep in the secret hiding place?” Torben offered.
He acted almost as if he were scared that she would leave him now that she’d gotten what she came for.
“Yes, I would like to, but listen, Torben.”
“Yes?”
“Are you saying that Tobias hasn’t been back home since you found the note?”
“No, no one has been here.”
“Hasn’t anyone called you?”
The boy shook his head. “The landline doesn’t work. There’s no noise when I pick up the handset, and cell phones are really expensive, did you know that?”
Emilie nodded and stroked the boy’s hair. “They are quite expensive, that’s true, and you don’t need to have one either.”
“No, that’s what Tobias says.”
“Who are the Christian girls?”
“We don’t know, we’re just guessing,” the little boy said. “Some say they eat people, though that’s not true, but we know they don’t go to our school—they have their own school.”
Emilie Isaksen knew as much as everybody else did about the new residents up in the forest. Which was practically nothing. The teachers had discussed them in the staff room, but it had mostly been gossip after all. None of the children were registered with the school, so they were not the teachers’ responsibility.
“So he went there last Saturday and no one has seen him since?”
“I don’t know if he went there on Saturday. Liverpool won three to nothing. Luis Suárez scored a hat trick, do you know what that is? Why don’t all televisions show soccer? Did you bring me any food? I really like pizza.”
“Do you want to have some pizza?”
“Yeah, I really do,” Torben said. “But you have to see this first.”
“Okay.” Emilie smiled.
“This is a piece of rock that fell from the moon,” Torben said, showing her a black stone with holes in it. “We kept it because the aliens might want it back. Cool, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that really is cool,” Emilie said, feeling herself start to grow a little impatient.
Tobias Iversen had been missing for seven days, and no one had sounded the alarm. She dreaded to think what could have happened to the handsome boy she’d come to like so much over the last year.
“And this is the secret number for a police officer that Tobias and I know. We can phone him whenever we need anything, or if we’re in Oslo. Because we’re heroes, did you know that?”
“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Emilie said, stroking Torben’s hair again.
She could only just get her fingers through it. He really needed a bath. And some food. And, not least, someone to talk to. The two brothers had found the second murder victim in the grotesque series of child murders that was all over the media. At school an assembly had been held the day after the discovery, with several psychologists present so the children could discuss the events with someone if they wanted to.
“This man is named Kim. It says so here.” Torben pointed proudly. He handed her the business card and pointed at it again. “K-i-m, Kim, isn’t that right?”
“Well done, Torben, I didn’t know you could read!”
“Oh, I can.” The boy grinned.
Emilie looked at the business card.
Kim Kolsø
Violent Crimes Section, Special Unit
“Do you know something, Torben?” Emilie said, getting up.
“What?”
“I think we should go get a pizza.”
“Yes!” The little boy punched the air.
“But first I think you should have a shower and put on some clean clothes. Do you think you can manage that yourself, or do you want me to help you?”
“Sheesh, I can do it myself,” he said, walking over to a wardrobe. “These are my clothes,” he said, pointing to the three bottom shelves.
“Great.” Emilie smiled. “You find what you need and then take a shower. Afterward we’ll go get some pizza.”
“Neat!” Torben said, kneeling down in front of the wardrobe to pick out the items he needed.
“I’m stepping outside to make a phone call, is that okay?”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” The little boy looked at her with anxious eyes.
“No, no,” Emilie said.
“Promise?”
“I promise, Torben.” She stroked his hair again. “Now, you go shower, okay?”
“I will,” Torben said, skipping out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.
Emilie did not want to know the state of the bathroom. She could barely conceal her despair any longer over these two brothers who had to live in these conditions without anyone taking care of them.
She waited until she heard the shower being turned on before she went downstairs and outside to make the call.
“Ringerike Police.”
“Yes, hi, my name is Emilie Isaksen, I’m a teacher at Hønefoss School, and I would like to report a child missing.”
“Hold on,” the voice said. “I’m connecting you.”
Emilie waited nervously while she was transferred through the system.
“Holm speaking.”
Emilie introduced herself again and explained the situation.
“And where are his parents?” said the man on the phone.
“I don’t know. I found his younger brother home alone. He’s been on his own for a week.”
“And the boy we’re talking about—Tobias, was that his name?”
“Iversen. Tobias Iversen.”
“When was he last seen?”
“I’m not sure, but he left behind a note that was found last Saturday. The note said he had gone into the woods to look for . . . well, it’s a religious group that has bought the old rehab center up there. Perhaps you’ve heard about them?”
“We have,” the police officer said.
He fell silent for a moment. It sounded as if he was covering the mouthpiece on his phone. Perhaps he was consulting some of his colleagues.
“So we’re talking about the boy who you say is missing, and his parents are gone as well—is that what you’re telling me?”
Emilie could feel that she was starting to dislike him. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” she said curtly.
“So how do you know that he’s not with his parents?”
“I don’t.”
“So he could be with his parents?”
“No, he’s up in the woods!”
“Says who?” the voice said.
“He left behind a note for his brother.”
The man on the telephone heaved a sigh.
“Listen,” Emilie said, losing her patience now. “I’m here with a seven-year-old boy who has been home alone for one week. His brother is gone. His parents are gone. And you’re telling me that you can’t . . . ?”
She could feel the rage surging now; she had to breathe deeply to keep the conversation going.
“I’ll make a note of it, and we’ll see what we can do about it tomorrow. Would it be possible for you to drop by the station sometime later today?”
“Tomorrow?” Emilie shouted. “Are you going to let a boy who’s been in the woods for a whole week spend yet another night outside? What if something has happened to him?”
“I understand, but I can’t just . . . I mean, what if the parents have gone on holiday and taken the boy with them?”
“And left his seven-year-old brother home alone?”
“Worse things have happened,” the police officer said. “I’ll make a note of your number. I’ll look into it, and someone will call you back.”
“You do that,” Emilie snarled.
She gave him her number and hung up.