‘I don’t want to go to the cabin. I want to go home.’
‘But we’ve driven all the way here. It’s over two hours back to Oslo, and—’
‘Please, Dad.’
Emil is likely taken aback by the stream of tears rushing down Storm’s face because he doesn’t protest further, just turns back around in the direction they’d come. They don’t speak for a long while, Emil’s eyes are trained on the road, and Storm’s are closed as he tries to make sense of his chaotic thoughts.
‘I went to the Blueberry Patch, Dad,’ Storm says when they’re nearing the capital, moving slowly through a slow stretch of traffic. ‘I met Lone. She told me that I used to say strange things at nursery after… After what happened to Mum.’ Emil keeps his eyes on the road, but Storm can tell by the pulsating clench and unclench of his jaw that he is affected by this information. ‘I drew stuff.’
‘I know. I’ve seen. You were terribly traumatized, unsurprisingly.’
‘I don’t know why I drew Bianka, though.’
‘I think you felt loved and taken care of by her in the aftermath of Mia’s accident.’
‘Lone says I kept mentioning a baddy.’
‘There was no baddy, Storm.’
‘How do you know? I… I actually remember some stuff, though I feel as though there’s this haze covering the memories. But the other day, in my dream, I was running on a path, and it was that path, the path we were on earlier, and someone ran behind me and—’
‘Storm. Stop. Please.’ Emil indicates and pulls off the motorway, bringing the car to a stop in the forecourt of a gas station. ‘There is something I have to tell you.’
Thirty-Eight
Bianka
It was the shoulder squeeze that did it. The humiliation of being used and simply discarded burns so fiercely in Bianka’s stomach that she knows that now, all bets are off. She watches Charlotte walk confidently down her driveway to the car parked on the curb, a self-satisfied spring in her step, Bianka imagines, as though she’s entirely convinced that everyone around her will perform to her narrative if only she awards them with the occasional empty promise. Or shoulder squeeze.
Now it’s time for Bianka to take control of the narrative. Over the years she’s learned that people don’t always know what’s good for them, even when the option of a better life is right there in front of them. But Bianka knew, from the very first time she laid eyes on Charlotte Vinge, that they were meant to be together, and that everything that had happened in her life up until meeting her had just been a dress rehearsal. Even Mia. As they’ve gotten to know each other, Bianka has come to realize that Charlotte is a victim of her own obsessively controlled world and her empty marriage, and won’t allow herself to be happy. So Bianka needs to help her along a little. It’s time to raise the stakes.
*
‘Thank you for getting back to us, Mrs Langeland,’ Inspector Juanes Fuentes says, an attractive, bearded guy in his late forties with soft hooded eyes. Bianka had expected him to wear a uniform, but he isn’t – he’s dressed casually in a denim shirt. She angles the screen and glances at her own reflection in the smaller frame on the side bar. A second man is in the room with Fuentes, behind him by the door.
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I’m happy to help in any way I can.’
‘Firstly, can you please confirm the dates you spent in Ibiza this month?’
‘Yes, it was from the seventeenth until the twenty-sixth of June.’
‘And can you confirm that your place of residence while on Ibiza was Can Xara, near Port San Miquel, the property owned by Charlotte and Andreas Vinge?’ Fuentes pronounces Vinge as Binge and Bianka has to suppress a smile.
‘Yes,’ she says.
‘Also, can you confirm when you last spoke to Mrs Vinge prior to this conversation?’
‘It was the day before yesterday,’ Bianka lies.
‘I see. And how would you describe your relationship with Mrs Vinge?’
‘Very close.’
‘Have you known each other long?’
‘No. Less than two months.’
‘But you’re very close.’
‘Yes. At least we were.’
‘Were?’
‘Well. Yes. I suspect Mrs Vinge is angry with me.’
‘Why would she be angry with you?’
Bianka knows that if she is to stand any chance of her plan working, she needs to do what she said she would and make sure they really get away with Maxime’s murder. And she needs to ensure Charlotte has no convenient marriage to fall back on at the end of all of this…
‘I… Because something happened between us in Ibiza. Our relationship became sexual.’
‘I see. And for what reason is she upset with you?’
‘Well, the truth is that I wanted to end our sexual relationship when we returned to London, but it’s my impression that Charlotte, uh, Mrs Vinge, wanted to continue it.’
‘Right. Tell me. What did you do in Ibiza? Did you party a lot?’
‘Quite a lot.’
