Free Nightblind by Ragnar Jónasson Page B

indoors for a few more days, or so I’m told. All the same, I’d have liked to have gone outside in the warm weather. It’s hot, stuffy – airless in here. There’s a balcony, a smart little one, at the end of the corridor. I’d love to be able to go out there, breathe the fresh air and enjoy the sunshine for a little while, but the doors are kept locked. That balcony is like a mirage in the desert.
    The meeting became almost amusing this morning, when the other inmates started complaining about each other. One asked to be moved to another room as the man he was sharing with is bad-tempered and borderline violent. The other guy answered right back, so forcefully that it confirmed the first one’s point. They carried on for a while without reaching any conclusion. The staff didn’t seem concerned about chasing the inmates’ minor complaints, but an argument like that must serve some purpose. It clears the air, gives people an opportunity to air pent-up grievances without coming to blows. The blows come later.

11
     
     
    Ari Thór slept badly that night. He woke up more than once, finding it hard to fall asleep again with the heavy rain beating on the roof of the old house. His home was usually warm and cosy, a safe haven, but now it just felt cold and menacing.
    The flu was to blame as much as the assault on Herjólfur. The incident had been a shock, but the thought of how narrowly he had avoided being the target … If he hadn’t been ill…
    It wasn’t just his concern about Herjólfur that kept him awake. If he was honest with himself, he had not been able to create any real relationship with his new superior. Of course he hoped that the inspector would make a full recovery, and at the very least survive. It was unthinkable that any police officer should lose his life under such circumstances, and it didn’t matter who the victim was. And now that he had met Herjólfur’s wife and son, Ari Thór felt a bewildering set of new sympathies for his colleague’s family.
    He and Tómas had sat in stifling silence on the short drive home, the rain outside a premonition of the arrival of winter. Ever since that first winter in Siglufjördur, Ari Thór always felt slightly claustrophobic when the snow started falling heavily, even though the new tunnel meant that it was almost impossible to be snowbound in the town any longer. Kristín was already asleep by the time he returned home, and he didn’t try to wake her.
    The next morning they both woke around six, as usual, when Stefnir began to make his presence felt by crying. At first the sounds he made were soft, and there was still a chance that he might fall back asleep if they left him alone, but eventually he was fully awakeand demanding attention. They were both due at work, so Stefnir would be cared for by a childminder who lived nearby, an amiable older lady approved by Kristín. It was never easy to leave the boy with a stranger, but there was no choice in the matter.
    Kristín was unusually reserved that morning, although it was something Ari Thór had become used to over the last few weeks. Exhaustion clouding his usual, uneasy acceptance, he looked out at the relentless downpour, frost tickling the edges of the windows, a smog of condensation veiling their centres and, somehow, he felt, his own relationship.
    ‘Is everything all right, Kristín?’
    ‘Of course, yes,’ she replied, without meeting his eyes.
    He waited a moment for a plausible explanation, glanced at her and looked away. He stirred the cereal in his bowl and pushed this exchange to the back of his mind, as he’d become accustomed to doing.

     
    Tómas collected Ari Thór and they drove out to the old house by the tunnel.
    ‘I’ve been in touch with the technical division,’ Tómas said as he parked close to where Herjólfur’s car had been found. ‘They have nothing yet to indicate who might be behind the attack.’
    ‘That figures,’ said Ari Thór. ‘I didn’t expect anything