The Killing Forest (15 page)

His hands were folded in front of him as he stared down at the table and shrugged. “We didn't want to get mixed up in anything. We figured it'd be better to make it look like he did it himself.”

It was as if a fog had lifted inside Louise's head. As if she were on top of a mountain on a crystal-clear winter day, frozen to the bone, watching René cry like a baby. Instantly she realized the entire group had kept a secret that could have patched her life back together. She felt split in two, one part of her dissolving, the other part rising like a black thundercloud.

She straightened up. The bastards had kept their mouths shut about an accident that no one would have blamed them for anyway. Had they lived up to their promise to protect each other, they might even have saved his life, she thought. They could've called an ambulance instead of just getting drunker. But they didn't. They punished Klaus for choosing her instead of them. And they punished her by letting her believe that Klaus had abandoned her, that she wasn't worthy of his love.

“You said nothing, even though you knew he didn't kill himself.”

“It was an accident.”

“What about the janitor and Gudrun? Were they accidents—killing them?”

“We didn't kill nobody!”

“You should've said something.”

“You don't break a promise.”

“You just have!” she pointed out.

“It's different now.” He stared at her defiantly.

“You knew that Jane's son was scared, that he didn't dare come home, but you said nothing. Not until now, now that it's in your interest to give us Thomsen. What kind of a person are you?”

She leaned forward. “You know very well what they might do. The boy is fifteen! If anything happens to Sune, I'm going to hold you personally responsible!” she shouted.

“I don't know what you expect me to do,” he said.

“I expect you to tell me everything you know about Thomsen, and whatever else you and your fucking friends are hiding. I want you to tell the police everything. About Klaus and all the rest of the shit you've done.”

Louise's patience was at an end. The truth needed to come out, all of it. She knew she'd gone too far, though, and cursed herself for it. You should never shout, never lose control. But it appeared that René hadn't even noticed.

“I can't give you the others. You know what would happen to me if I did?”

“Like hell you can't! You're a grown man; act like it!”

He was whining now. “You don't think I have enough going on in my life already?”

“You don't have shit going on!” Louise shouted. She felt Eik's eyes on her. “You've lost everything. Your wife. Your daughter. Your freedom. You've been caught in your own shit and your brotherhood's ridiculous vows. You're going down, no matter what. And if I were you I'd take Thomsen with me. I want to help. The only condition is, you have to promise to testify against him in court.”

René sat for a while, thinking it over. Then he dried his tears, nodded slowly, and spoke in a half whisper. “I'll do it.”

All at once she couldn't stand the sight of him. There wasn't enough air in the room; she felt dizzy. She turned to Eik. He stood up and called the guard. Totally drained now, she followed as he led her past the guard room and out into the twilight, away from the jail. He pulled her close and put his arms around her as she cried.

She felt his hand stroking her hair, holding her back gently. Finally Louise dried her eyes, kissed him on the cheek, and backed off half a step. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Thanks for staying in there with me.”

S
une had a stomachache, but for once it wasn't from hunger. The thought of meeting his father at the sacrificial oak had plagued him all day long, but he still didn't know what he would say.

He began to cry. He felt all alone, and he missed his mother so much that he felt powerless to act, unable to work up the will to keep going.

The sun had disappeared, leaving the forest in the dim of the Danish summer night as he approached the oak tree. His father sat with his back against the trunk, his big hands folded around his knees. He didn't seem angry. Just sad. A terrifying thought hit Sune: His mother was dead. He walked over to his father in dread.

“Has anything happened?” he whispered. “To Mom?”

His father shook his head.

“How is she?”

“She's bad, but she's fighting. All that's keeping her alive is the hope that she'll see you again.”

Sune felt a horrible sorrow, a black, leaden weight around his heart.

“The police have been by again,” his father said. He sounded tired. “Will you please come home?”

Sune didn't answer. The only sound was the wind swishing through the trees.

“They found the girl,” Sune finally said.

“I know. That's also why I'm asking you to come home now. You're born into this, there's nothing we can do about that.”

“But…” The words nearly stuck in Sune's throat. “She was murdered! The police will figure it out!”

“That's another reason why you have to get out of here. People will think you did it.”

“But I didn't!”

“People will think you did.”

A deep voice spoke from behind Sune. “If you don't hold the ring and take your oath with the rest of us, you
are
the one who killed her.”

Terrified, Sune whirled around and saw the gothi step out of the darkness. His father got to his feet and held him from behind to protect him.

“We can't cover for you if you're not one of us,” the gothi said. He walked over to them. “We'll have to say you're responsible for what happened out here.”

“But I'm telling the police what you did to her.”

The gothi reached out to grab Sune. His father desperately held on to him. “Leave my son alone,” he yelled. “I'll take care of this.”

Sune saw the chunk of firewood in the gothi's hand, saw him raise it, and heard it crack against his father's head. He fell along with his father, and before he knew it he was grabbed roughly and hauled out of the clearing. “This boy belongs to the gods, whether he likes it or not.”

“Stop!” his father shouted, or tried to; his voice was thick and groggy.

W
hat was that?” Camilla asked, grabbing Frederik's arm.

He tried to figure out where the shrill screams were coming from, then he vanished into the forest. Camilla tossed away the sack they'd brought for the boy and humped after him.

Moments later, she saw that Frederik had stopped; a large figure in a dark-green hunting jacket was dragging someone—the boy! He was still screaming, and her heart constricted when she saw the terror in his face.

“What the hell's going on here?” Frederik yelled. He sprinted over and reached for the boy, but was slammed to the ground as if he'd been hit by a bear. The man began tottering; Camilla guessed that Frederik had grabbed on to his legs, but all she could see was a broad back and a leg kicking at Frederik. When the man leaned over, the boy wrestled free and ran to Camilla, hiding behind her back, as if he were safe there.

Through the trees she glimpsed Frederik, back on his feet now, but swaying. He steadied himself up against a tree, then he took off after the man, who had disappeared down the forest road.

“Frederik!” she yelled. “Stop!”

Suddenly the forest was completely still. All she heard was her own rapid breathing and the boy's quiet sobbing. His shoulders shook, and he pulled away from her as if he were embarrassed to have hidden behind her. He was skinny and shabby; his hands and clothes were filthy. Camilla reached for him.

“It's all over,” she said, comforting him, but she was interrupted by more shouting. She recognized Frederik's voice. Then she heard a car door slam, an engine racing furiously. The car's tires squealed as it took off.

“My dad,” the boy whispered. “I have to find my dad.”

“Where is he?” Camilla asked. For a moment she was in doubt; should she follow the boy or rush over and find Frederik? She humped after the boy through the forest, past a stack of firewood and a clump of ferns. They fought their way through bushes, trampling down some wild raspberries.

“Dad!” The boy started to run. Camilla tried to keep up. They both stopped when they reached the sacrificial oak. The boy had made a small camp behind a thicket, in between some low bushes and a few logs. He'd cleared a space for a campfire, and on the ground beside it was her son's blue jacket. Apart from that the camp looked deserted.

“He's gone!” the boy wailed.

“But weren't you running away from him?” Camilla asked, and looked around. Nothing was moving.

“No, Dad came here to get me. He was trying to help me.”

He fell to the ground and hid his face in his hands. His thin shoulders began shaking again. Camilla eased down beside him and put her hand on his back. “We'll find your father,” she said. “I can drive you home.”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I can't go home,” he whispered, almost in a panic. “They've turned against Dad.”

“I'm sure everything will be all right now,” Camilla said.

“You don't understand. They'll kill me.”

“No one's going to kill a child,” Camilla exclaimed. Then she thought about the bodies in the girls' graves less than half a kilometer away.

A man's voice cried out, “Hello!” The boy gave a start.

“Easy, it's my husband,” Camilla said. “Over here!” she shouted.

Frederik appeared in the clearing and walked toward them. “What on earth happened?” she said, shocked at the sight of him. His clothes were covered in mud, and he was bleeding at the temple.

“He tried to run me down. I had to jump in the ditch.”

“Maybe he's the one who hit me,” Camilla said, her fist clenched in anger. “He's a total maniac.”

They both turned to the boy.

“They won't stop until they find me,” he said, crying again. “And I don't know where to go.”

Camilla stood and helped him up. “Come with us. We'll find a way out of this. The police are going to be very happy to hear that you're all right.”

But the boy still resisted, and for a moment she feared he would run away again.

“Dad might still be out here,” he said.

“Then let's wait a while,” Camilla suggested. “You could also try to call him.”

She handed him her phone, but he didn't take it. His stomach was growling, and she could see that he was freezing. “Honestly, you could stand a bath.” She smiled at him. “And you look like you could eat a decent meal. Sometimes things look different after a good night's sleep. Okay?”

He seemed more at ease now, but he kept peering into the forest. “I want to go with you, but you have to promise not to call anyone. I think Dad will come back for me tomorrow.”

“We promise,” Frederik said. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

I
f they're responsible for Klaus's death, they're going to pay for it,” Louise said. She took a sip of the bitter, black morning coffee that Eik had set on the desk in front of her. “Even if it was an accident. They should have called for help instead of covering up, like they've done so many times. This has to end, now.”

She'd tossed and turned all night. At one point, she had gone out into the kitchen and made a cup of chamomile tea. More than once she had regretted turning down Eik's offer to sleep at his place in Sydhavnen. He started every day with a morning swim and a shot of Gammel Dansk.

That would've helped calm her down, she thought. But she had politely declined and instead brought home takeaway to eat with Jonas. He'd been sitting in his room wearing his big earphones. He'd lost all track of time and forgotten about dinner, and suddenly he was hungry as a bear, so hungry that after eating Chicken Tikka Masala she had warmed up some soup. Then they made popcorn. And then Melvin was at the door with two cartons of Danish strawberries and half a liter of cream he'd bought on the way home from the allotment.

“I just stopped by to pick up the mail and for some clean clothes,” he told them, as an excuse. Before Louise knew it, he was sitting in the living room drinking coffee and a shot of something he'd gone down to pick up.

Soon she realized that their neighbor in the flat below had missed them. Which warmed her heart. While she and Jonas sat on the sofa, with Melvin sitting across from them and Dina resting her head on his feet, some of her pain faded away. Everything seemed a bit more manageable.

Until an hour later. It had all come back the second she turned her bedside light off. Everything René Gamst had said about Klaus's final night in the house.

Eik broke into her thoughts. “I hope you're not getting these two cases mixed up.” He set his cup down. “All this about Klaus is Roskilde's case, if there even is a case. You and I are still looking for a boy who ran away from home.”

She wasn't sure, but he sounded a bit jealous. Louise studied him for a moment. She was in love. She'd acknowledged it sometime that night. It was his awkward charm, the personality that behind his scrubby leather jacket was mild, full of warmth and empathy. He was both darkness and light. He'd gotten inside her in a way that made her long for him whenever he wasn't there.

Klaus was no longer the great love of her life. He was missed, and he was a sorrow she'd never moved on from. And now she knew it was all because of a gang of boys who even as adults had never revealed the truth. It angered her, and she had to do something about that anger before it devoured her. She couldn't care less if she was mixing things up; her gut ached at the thought that these blood brothers were forcing a fifteen-year-old boy to become part of their sick brotherhood.

“The two cases are connected.” She looked over at Eik. “Can't you see it? They're all covering each other's ass, and if we ever hope to break through we have to gather every possible shred of evidence against them. We also need to take a good look at the cases concerning Gudrun and the janitor, now that René is willing to testify against the others.”

Eik still looked dubious.

“Before I came in, I spoke with Klaus's parents,” she said, ignoring his skepticism. “Nymand is trying to get authorization to dig up his coffin and have Forensics examine him. There was no autopsy back then because of the suicide note, but if he died of the injuries from the fall, there's a good chance we can prove he was dead before they hung him up. That would support René's statement and make him more credible.”

That morning, Nymand had told her he'd interrogated René Gamst the evening before.

“They're preparing warrants, but before they arrest anyone for the murder of Lisa Maria Nielsen, he wants to have compelling evidence against the entire group, so they don't end up detaining only one of them. He wants to make a case against all of them.”

Louise agreed 100 percent with Nymand. The case resembled the latest instance of honor killing, in which a family picked someone to carry out the deed—a seventeen-year-old son, whom they reasoned would receive a mild sentence. It had sent a message when the entire family received sentences of various lengths for murder and attempted murder. But the case had required massive preparation. Nymand had set into motion similar preparations, and it involved her and Eik.

Her partner shook his head. He didn't say anything at first, though it wasn't difficult for Louise to see what he was thinking.

It finally came out. “You don't
know
if the cases are connected. You don't
know
if they killed the prostitute, or if the boy ran away because of them!”

“No,” Louise admitted. “I don't know that, but I have a strong suspicion. And if I'm wrong, it'll be my ass. I'll deal with that if it happens.”

“Take my advice.” He rested his elbows on his desk. “Be careful. Don't be unprofessional just because you're emotionally involved. I made that mistake back when Sofie disappeared. All I got out of it was that no one took my case seriously.”

Louise didn't like knowing the name of Eik's former lover. Up until now, she had only been a vague presence in Louise's mind.

“I was so focused on what happened to her,” he said, “that I ignored the drowning of the two others in the boat. And when people suggested she might have had something to do with their deaths, I had blinders on; I refused to take it seriously. I just knew that she'd drowned at sea with them that night.”

“But strictly speaking, you can't be sure that she's not out there somewhere, right?” Louise ignored a call from Camilla.

Eik shook his head. “I never heard from her, even though she knew my phone number and where I lived.”

He was trying to stay calm, Louise noticed, but his eyes weren't playing along. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I can see what you're saying. And I'm grateful that you're spelling it out for me. But this isn't just about Klaus. You're also right that we don't know what's happened to the boy. But we know that the same men who had a hand in Klaus's death, who probably have killed a young prostitute, whose methods we now have a good picture of—these men won't stop at anything to stay out of prison. And I can't let that happen. Lisa Maria was a single mother to a three-year-old boy. Thomsen paid her to show up in the forest, and a month later we dig her body up in the same forest. If I can't bring them to justice for that, I might just as well hand in my badge.”

“That's Roskilde's case. Not ours. Weren't they the ones who investigated the death of your old boyfriend?”

“But there was no investigation! Thomsen and his gang got away with making everyone believe it was a suicide.”

“But it's still within their jurisdiction.”

“Exactly. That's why Nymand gets to dig him up. It's Roskilde's case, from start to finish. But if we're going to get these men, I have to help them. The only reason René will play along is because I can put the screws to him. Anyway, Nymand doesn't know anything about these old cases. Why should he? He wasn't even at Roskilde back then. Everything has to be considered; the old cases have to be opened again. When I've gathered all the evidence I can, it all goes over to his desk.”

Eik considered this for a moment. Then he nodded, first thoughtfully, then more decisively. “I'm with you. Of course we can't let those assholes get away with murdering a single mother. By the way, have we heard anything about the two others they dug up out there?”

Louise shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her phone began blinking again, and she answered. “Camilla, I'll call you back in just a bit.” She was about to hang up, when she realized that something was very wrong.

“You have to come.” Her friend was crying. “I've already called Roskilde Police, but they told me the boy is your case. Someone's taken him and declared war on us.”