The traffic ahead of him veered to one side when Blix turned on the sirens and blue light. He wound his way from the city centre up on to the motorway. Exit signs with the names of the various towns around the capital whizzed by: Kolbotn, Ski, Ås, Vestby, Moss and Rygge. As he approached Fredrikstad, he phoned Gard Fosse.
‘Are you far away?’ Fosse asked.
‘Maybe twenty minutes or so,’ he answered. ‘Is there any news?’
‘Only that the media have got wind of us finding Nordstrøm’s phone,’ Fosse snorted. ‘Call me as soon as you know any more.’
Blix flicked off the blue light and dropped his speed as he opened his phone browser and clicked into news.no.
‘Nordstrøm’s Phone Found in Open Grave’.
He scanned the phone screen as he drove, reading a sentence or two at a time. According to what news.no had learned, Sonja Nordstrøm’s phone had been used on Sunday evening. A police source indicated it had been located in an open grave.
He tossed his phone on to the seat beside him and picked up speed again. Of course she’d published it, he thought, pounding the steering wheel with his fist.
The first sign for Hvaler appeared. Ten minutes later, Blix was drawing up behind a row of police patrol cars. No reporters seemed to be on the scene yet, but that wouldn’t last long.
As he stepped out of his car, he was met by a biting blast of sea air. The sky had clouded over. If they were unlucky, it might start raining during the afternoon. Blix hoped the Hvaler police had made good progress with their crime-scene work.70
He greeted a uniformed policewoman and skirted around to the rear of Sonja Nordstrøm’s cottage. He introduced himself to another officer and asked for directions.
‘Just follow that path,’ the officer told him.
Blix made his way along a narrow footpath lined with low bushes and sparse trees, which sheltered him from the worst of the squalls. He was careful where he put his feet: roots and twigs protruded here and there. Soon he reached a smooth expanse of rock. A number of police officers were huddled several metres from a rowing boat, which was moored beside the rock, bobbing lethargically on the waves. One of the crime-scene technicians was holding on to a rope that was attached to the boat, while another took photographs.
Blix nodded to them all and introduced himself to the local officer in charge. He seemed flustered, somehow, as if he’d made a mistake that Blix hadn’t yet discovered.
‘We were here yesterday,’ he explained. ‘At your request. The boathouse was locked then, and the boat was safely inside.’
‘So it’s Sonja Nordstrøm’s boat?’
‘Yes.’
Blix took a step closer to the craft and peered down. The body lay on its stomach, with the face turned sideways towards Blix.
‘A man?’ he said, looking back at the local officer, who responded with a nod.
Blix crouched down. There was something familiar about the dead man’s ashen face. He had short, fair hair and blue eyes.
‘Do you have any idea who it is?’ Blix asked, turning to face the local officer.
‘My lad at home’s a fan,’ he said, sighing, as he pointed at the corpse. The man was wearing a football top with the number seven on the back.
‘It’s Jeppe Sørensen,’ he went on. ‘The Danish football player, from the national team. I think he’s been missing for a week or so.’
Blix wasn’t particularly interested in football, but he’d heard that Sørensen was AWOL.
‘He was supposed to sign a professional contract with Borussia 71Dortmund a while back,’ the officer added. ‘But then he suffered a knee injury. It destroyed his career. There’s been speculation that he fell into a depression because of it. And when he disappeared people even suggested he’d taken his own life, but … we can knock that theory on the head now at least.’
Blix watched the crime-scene officers continuing their work for a moment. On a rocky foreland fifty metres away, a man appeared, holding a camera. The first journalist, Blix thought, turning his back on him slightly.
‘He’s cold,’ one of the technicians shouted from the boat.
‘What do you mean?’ the local officer asked.
‘This isn’t normal rigor mortis,’ the technician explained. ‘He’s frozen, and has just begun to thaw out.’
Blix took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
One of the crime-scene officers supervised as the local police officers lifted Jeppe Sørensen on to a body bag. They zipped it up and then brought him on to the rock before four men carried him away from the scene.
Blix dipped his head and followed in their wake, a gust of wind sweeping in from the sea, propelling him forwards.