Free Only One Life by Sara Blædel

school.”
    He briefly said that he had to be at the lumberyard down by the harbor at six-thirty himself, and his eldest son had a job at the same location three mornings a week before his business-school classes started.
    “He and I are already gone when Samra gets up.”
    “Has your daughter disappeared from home and stayed away for a whole night before?” Mik asked.
    At first Ibrahim shook his head, but after thinking for a while he said, “Sometimes the other young people she hangs out with infect her, like a rotten apple in a basket,” he said, looking accusingly at Louise for a moment as if she bore part of the blame. “So it can be hard to figure out exactly what she’s up to.”
    “What other kinds of things does your daughter do?” Louise asked, seizing the opening.
    She could see how torn he felt as he contemplated what to say.
    “She doesn’t always listen to what we tell her,” he said finally. “Then she comes home when it suits her.”
    “Does she often come home late?” Mik wanted to know.
    “A few times it’s been several hours past what we agreed on,” said Ibrahim.
    “But right now we’re talking about almost thirty-six hours—has she ever been gone so long before?” Louise asked.
    “No, which is why I think something must have happened. She wouldn’t dare,” the girl’s father replied, and Louise noted that Samra apparently had reason to fear her father’s reaction.
    “Does your daughter have a boyfriend she might be staying with?” Louise asked, following every movement in his face.
    His expression suddenly seemed less open and he shook his head.
    “She’s too young for that sort of thing. She’s fifteen,” he said, looking Louise straight in the eye when he replied. Louise felt as though she were gazing directly into the abyss of a father’s deep worry.
    If he thought a fifteen-year-old girl was too young to have a boyfriend, then he also probably thought the girl was too young to marry off , thought Louise, making it fairly unlikely that it was an “honor” killing triggered by a conflict in that area.
    Louise excused herself for a moment and went to ask one of her colleagues to check on whether there were any past reports of violence in the family. But when she entered the command center, Ruth Lange had already foreseen Louise’s request and had a printout of the information ready for her.
    “We’ve got one report against the father for domestic violence. His wife filed it a year and a half ago. Apparently he beat both her and her daughter, and subsequently the wife stayed at a women’s shelter in Nykøbing Sjælland. Other than that, we don’t have anything on him or the elder brother. The father came to Denmark in 1998, while the rest of the family did not arrive until 2002. At that point, the youngest hadn’t been born yet, and the little sister was still an infant. They come from a town fifty miles south of Amman, Jordan, called Rabba. Since early 2001 he has been working at Stark, a lumberyard down by the harbor,” said Ruth.
    Louise hurried back to her office and sat down quietly so she wouldn’t interrupt the interview.
    “Do you have a picture of her?” Mik asked.
    Samra’s father gently pulled a photo out of his jacket pocket. He set it on the table. It must have been taken on Midsummer’s Eve; Samra was wearing a light-colored summer dress and you could see the bonfire in the background. Her long, dark hair fell onto her shoulders, and she was holding her little sister’s hand. Both of them were smiling widely for the photographer. It struck Louise that she actually hadn’t known whether Samra wore a headscarf, but apparently she hadn’t.
    “Is she the one you found?”
    Louise glanced quickly at Mik, who nodded to her, and she turned to the father and said she was deeply sorry to have to tell him that it was his daughter whom a fisherman had found in the water out by Hønsehalsen in Udby Cove.
    All the color drained out of his face. His