Free Farewell to Freedom by Sara Blædel

didn’t have anything to go on.
    Once Camilla finished her article and submitted it to her editor, she packed up her bag. She checked with the police to see if there was any news in the search for the mother, and she had also been trying to get in touch with the coroner who’d been out to Kødbyen Sunday night. In sheer irritation at the lack of interest her proposal had aroused at the editorial meeting, she was going to pick the case of the murdered woman back up again and pursue it until she had enough material to run the story past her boss again. Kvist was staying in a hotel out in Silkeborg and had an interview lined up with one of the well-to-do married couples the art theft ring had targeted.
    â€œDoctor Larsen still isn’t in, and to be quite honest, I don’t think he will be in today. He gave a lecture at National Hospital today and then went straight home from there, I believe,” said the receptionist at the pathology lab, where Camilla had given one last try before heading home. “He’ll be off for the rest of the week.”
    â€œCould you give me his cell number so I can contact him?” Camilla tried.
    â€œUnfortunately, I can’t give that to you,” the woman said.
    â€œWell, could I have you call him and leave a message to contact me?” Camilla tried again.
    Sometimes that worked. Other times it annoyed people, assuming they had time to waste helping her.
    â€œI can’t promise I can get hold of him, but I’d be happy to leave a message,” the woman agreed, and Camilla thanked her profusely.

8
    C AMILLA HAD OFFERED TO PICK UP SOME DINNER AND BRING IT over to the pastor’s residence, but Henrik Holm wouldn’t hear of it. Instead she brought a few bottles of soda along in her bicycle basket.
    â€œThe boys are up in Jonas’s room. They have a visitor,” Henrik told her with a grin as she came in and set her basket on the kitchen table.
    She looked at him in surprise. He was standing at the stove, stirring a pot that smelled of chicken and spices. She asked who the guest was.
    â€œA good friend of yours, I understood. Markus asked very politely if it would be okay if she came over to talk to Jonas and him.”
    The pastor smiled when he saw Camilla’s face stiffen.
    â€œIt’s not a journalist,” he reassured her quickly. “And your son seemed very happy to see her.”
    She relaxed and went upstairs to confirm it was who she suspected.
    Louise was sitting on the thick cushions on the floor with one boy on either side, and when Camilla stuck her head in, Louise was explaining what the police usually did about abandoned babies.
    Louise flashed a smile at Camilla and then continued detailing the procedure the police would use to search for the mother in hospitals.
    â€œWe go through lists of women who are due to give birth around that time. Using the lists, we contact those women. Some of them have already had their babies and are busy taking care of them, while others are still walking around with their big bellies, looking forward to the birth.”
    Markus was holding Louise’s hand as she spoke, and Jonas’s eyes didn’t leave her face.
    â€œAnd then once in a while, we find a woman who no longer has a big belly and who isn’t busy with a new baby—and those are the mothers we’re interested in, of course,” Louise said. “But there can be lots of reasons why they don’t have the child. Usually it’s because the baby died before the birth or maybe right afterward.”
    Both boys’ eyes were wide and they were holding their breath.
    Typical Louise, Camilla thought with a little smile. She was not dumbing it down for the kids. She was telling it like it is. And it usually turned out that that was actually what they liked best, even though the reality sometimes shocked them.
    She went back down to the kitchen to help with dinner, and before she herself was even