Mia Krüger desperately wished she had got more sleep because then she might have felt a little stronger, handled this a little more professionally. The moment Anders Finstad opened the door to the stable, she suddenly felt sixteen again.
The place reminded her of Sigrid.
Mia stopped in the doorway, unable to move.
‘Oh, I forgot the locker keys. I’m so sorry,’ the owner of the equestrian centre said.
‘No problem.’ Mia smiled.
‘Do you mind waiting here? I’ll be back in a sec.’
‘I’m in no hurry,’ Mia nodded and stepped back from the doorway as Finstad rushed back across the yard.
Twice a week. Sitting in the back of her dad’s Volvo. Going to a riding school near Horten. They had watched her, the whole family, Sigrid, smiling, sitting on the black horse, her blonde hair poking out from under the helmet. The smells of the stables brought back happy memories for Mia, but for some reason they also made her feel nauseous. She could not keep it in. She leaned against a wall and just made it round the corner before it came up. She vomited what little she had in her stomach, yet still she continued to gag. She stood bent double, gasping for air.
What on earth?
Her vision blurred. She had not eaten much recently. Only drunk alcohol. Swallowed pills. Not taken care of herself.
‘Are you still here?’
Mia managed to pull herself together, put on a smile and walk back around the corner.
‘There you are,’ the man said, holding up a set of keys. ‘I have …’
‘If I could just use your bathroom for a moment?’ Mia mumbled, pressing her lips together.
‘Of course,’ Finstad said. ‘It’s the first right inside the front door. Please, let me show you …’
‘I’ll be OK. I’ll find it on my own,’ she said, walking back across the yard as fast as she could. She let herself into the small lavatory and knelt in front of the toilet bowl and hyperventilated.
Hell.
Eventually, she managed to stand up again. She rinsed her mouth, splashed water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was deathly pale. It was rare for Mia Krüger to feel scared, but her body had reacted so strongly. The memories of Sigrid in the stable had been enough.
We ought to talk about Sigrid, don’t you think?
For the first time, it crossed her mind: perhaps he was right after all. Her therapist. He had sent her a text message. You missed your last appointment. Shall I make you another one? But she had not replied. She was back at work. That had been her original reason for going. Not to share her private life. Mia remained in front of the mirror until she felt some kind of normality return. Might it help, opening up? About her grief. Her misery. Her losses. Her mother, her father, her grandmother. Sigrid. She found a bottle of mouthwash in the bathroom cabinet and gargled with it. No way. She looked at her reflection in the mirror again and shook her head.
No. There was no way she could pour out her soul to a shrink. She washed her face.
Like hell.
This had nothing to do with her mental health. It was just a combination of not enough sleep, too much pressure, this case, and then that idiot Curry, to top it all. She was in total control. Mia nodded to her reflection in the mirror.
Total control.
She continued to stand in front of it for a few more minutes, until the colour returned to her face, then she walked back across the yard.
‘Is everything all right?’ Anders Finstad asked. He looked concerned.
‘Pardon?’ Mia smiled, and followed him into the stable. ‘Yes, of course. Which one was her locker?’
She was a police officer again.
‘This one,’ Finstad said. ‘Would you like me to open it?’
‘Well, there’s not much point in just looking at the door from the outside, is there?’ she joked.
Finstad smiled. Fiddled briefly with the keys on the bunch in his hand, before finding the right one, while Mia took out a pair of latex gloves from the inside pocket of her jacket.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ Finstad asked when he had unlocked the door for her.
She could see that he was curious about the contents of the locker.
‘I’ll give you a shout if I need your help.’ Mia smiled, and waited until he had left the stable before she opened the door to the locker.
A red riding jacket. A pair of knee-high black boots, a beige blouse on a hanger. A small piece of paper was stuck to the inside of the locker door. A hand-written note.
I like you.
There was a drawing underneath.
A bird.
It had been at the back of her mind, though she hadn’t had time to process it since bumping into Curry. Munch’s words from last night. The feathers at the crime scene.
Owl feathers.
Mia took out her mobile from her jacket and rang Munch. There was no reply, so she texted him a quick message instead: Call me now.
I like you.
A drawing.
A bird.
An owl.