Hell Fire by Karin Fossum

there’ll be an uproar, and Ansgar will call the police and the local paper.
    â€œHi,” Ansgar said merrily. “You walking the dog? I guess it’s good to have something to do; the days must drag when you don’t work.”
    Eddie didn’t answer. He started to pull at Shiba’s leash, but she’d sat down and wouldn’t budge.
    â€œThere was a job advertised in the paper yesterday,” Ansgar continued. “I don’t know whether you saw it. A maintenance company was looking for people. And I thought of you, you know, because you don’t really need a degree to change a light bulb.”
    â€œThey do more than just changing light bulbs,” Eddie muttered. “Anyway, I’m not fit for work; the doctor says so.”
    Ansgar grinned. His teeth were small and sharp and rather yellow. “But most people can do something. You clear the snow like a professional. You could clear snow for me as well, if you like,” he added. “I’d pay you.”
    Eddie jerked the leash violently, pulling Shiba to her feet, and tramped off down the road without saying a word. When he got back inside, he undid the leash and took off his jacket. Then he went into the kitchen and put the two envelopes down on the table. Mass looked at them despondently and turned back to what she was doing. Eddie sank down onto a chair and Shiba collapsed in the corner and fell asleep.
    â€œShe can hardly walk,” Eddie stated. “There’s something wrong with her back legs.”
    Mass turned to her son. “I know. I keep meaning to take her to the vet and then I put it off.”
    â€œWell, I think I know what’s going to happen,” Eddie said and put his great hands down on the table.
    Now it was Mass’s turn not to answer. She wearily brushed the hair back from her forehead. Eddie got up and went over to Shiba. He lay down on the floor beside her, despite his size. The dog moved uneasily and wanted to get away, but she didn’t have the energy. Eddie edged his hand in under her chest. He could feel her little dog heart beating softly.

10
July 2005
    â€œ TAKE ALL CALLS SERIOUSLY ,” Konrad Sejer said. “Write down all the details: names, places, times, cars, and people. And, for that matter, any random suspicions. People who are simply curious or who have a fertile imagination. Divide them up among yourselves and be vigilant. I want to know every little thing. And if you’re in doubt, talk to Skarre; we can’t afford to overlook anything. Put everything else to one side.”
    He went over to the map on the wall and pointed. “We are assuming that he got there via one of the three following routes. One: from the parking lot in Geirastadir, down over the fields, presumably along the edge of the woods. Jacob and I will walk that route. It takes fifteen minutes. Route two: he came from Haugane. Again, he might have parked a bit farther away—we’re assuming that he got there by car, even though we probably shouldn’t. It’s a shorter distance and perhaps more likely. The third alternative is, of course, that he walked through Skarven Farm, but that’s unlikely. What’s more, he was carrying a knife. He may have hidden this on his person, but the chances of being seen were greater, considering that eleven people live there.”
    He left the map and sat back down at the table. “One of the Polish farm workers said he saw an old red car some way down the road to the farm. On the fourth of July. He had never seen the car before, but it stopped there for a few minutes before it disappeared. He thought that perhaps they’d taken a wrong turn. But the car is clearly of interest. He may have been watching Bonnie and Simon for a few days before he killed them. At some point, he must have seen them disappear into the trailer. God only knows what he thought.”
    He looked at the people around him; there were ten of them,