Free Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5) by Quentin Bates

voice and huddled deeper into the crook of Magni’s arm.
     
    Ívar Laxdal was in the car park about to disappear into the dark recesses of his Volvo when Gunna parked the unmarked Golf next to him.
    ‘Finished for the day?’
    ‘I am, and so should you be,’ he replied. ‘What’s the story with your disappeared women?’
    ‘No sign of them,’ Gunna said, shutting the car door and shivering in the cold wind. ‘I have alerts out all over the country, checked flights, passed the word to the taxi companies for their drivers to look out for Erna Björg Brandsen’s car, and I’ve had patrols scour the roads around Thingvellir and beyond in case they’ve just broken down somewhere or are stuck in a ditch.’
    ‘Everything short of a full-scale search, you mean?’
    ‘Yep, ads on TV and radio, and a missing persons announcement on Facebook.’
    Gunna nodded and zipped up her coat. She looked upwards at the low cloud that appeared to be lurking just beyond rooftop height.
    ‘I’d have an air search if I could.’
    ‘Not in this visibility, I’m afraid.’
    ‘And I’m not convinced by the Thingvellir location,’ she said and watched Ívar Laxdal think over her remark.
    ‘Really?’
    ‘It’s too neat. I get the feeling we might be being lead astray. My feeling is to concentrate on the family for the moment.’
    ‘Something close to home?’ Ívar Laxdal asked. ‘Domestic violence, possibly?’
    ‘I’m not sure. I need to push the husband a little harder, and I’m meeting another of Erna’s acquaintances in the morning, as well as some of the daughter’s friends. I need to get a better picture of them and their relationship. If there’s nothing that rings alarm bells, then I’ll be more inclined to look harder up-country.’
    Ívar Laxdal rolled his shoulders, lifting his collar higher around his neck as he settled deeper into his coat.
    ‘Up to you, Gunnhildur. I’ll leave it to your discretion,’ he said, getting into his car. ‘Let me know tomorrow, will you?’
     
    She shivered and had to force her teeth to stop chattering with fear. Every step was an ordeal. The floor creaked and she tried to step as slowly and lightly as possible, placing her feet toes first, then heel, then moving her weight forward as gradually as she could. She could hear the indistinct burble of noise from the television in the room and a band of light slashed across the wall at the end of the corridor.
    Erna inched closer, fists clenched, breath held as long as she could as she took each step, exhaling and taking a few deep, slow breaths before taking the next step. The television became louder the closer she got to the half-open door. Finally close enough to peer inside, she fought back the urge to walk smartly back down the corridor to the room she had taken as hers and bury herself under the duvet. Erna told herself that whatever happened, sooner or later she would have to confront these men and make sure that something happened, while Tinna Lind seemed happy enough to go with the flow, apparently unafraid of the two thugs. The beefy young man with the muscles and the reddish hair was all right, she had decided, probably a decent enough lad and not too proud to make himself busy in the kitchen. But the skinny man with the eyes that never stayed still was another matter. There was something about him that sent shivers of fear coursing up and down her spine every time he opened his mouth. He was a man with no values and no morals other than making a quick buck and unconcerned at whatever the cost might be to anyone else.
    She eased her head around the door frame and looked inside, then breathed a sigh of relief. The television was blaring out some foreign music programme in a language she didn’t recognize, with pneumatic young women bouncing to a band playing some smooth seventies-style rock, punctuated by squealing guitar solos. Össur was spreadeagled across the bed, his chin pointing at the ceiling. She could see the