“Afterward I visited Jens,” Troels said, casually. “I don’t know how I got there, but suddenly I found myself in front of his building, without my jacket, my trousers soaked. All I could think was that I was about to be arrested. I wanted to talk to Jens first. Just talk to him. So we talked. For hours. I calmed down a little; I thought it possible that Johannes mightn’t have been seriously hurt. Did I even hit him? I started to have doubts. Jens poured me a whiskey, he lent me some clothes. You’ve got great parents, Anna.”
Anna nodded.
“They’re very fond of you, too,” she said, kindly.
“I’m leaving soon and I won’t be coming back. I don’t want to go to jail.” He laughed a brittle laugh. “I’ve been in prison all my life.”
“Why did you text me?” Anna wanted to know.
“Do you know what a big thing it was to me that we had a falling out? Massive. I didn’t want to leave without seeing you first. I wanted to unburden myself, tell you I didn’t mean to do it. Not then, not now. I don’t think you’ll betray me again,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll get up now and betray me again.” He smiled a crooked smile. “I think you’ve changed. Your little girl. I must meet her sometime.”
“I knew you did it.”
“Yes, I’m impressed.” He smiled again. “I thought it would take you longer. What did I write?”
“That you were trying to tell me something,” Anna replied. “It was the way you phrased it. But that’s not why. It was when you mentioned Johannes by name. When we met last Friday. You knew his name. You pretended that Karen had told you.” Anna turned to Troels and her eyes glowed yellow. “But Karen didn’t know his name. So how could you? Suddenly, it all made sense. You waiting for me; you showing up everywhere. Karen met you, Jens met you, and so did Cecilie, apparently. And Johannes’s stalker. . . . At first I thought it was a girl, but when the police told me they were looking for a man . . . YourGuy. That was one coincidence too many.”
Troels gave Anna a rather drowsy look.
“Did he really say that?” he said, dully. “That I was stalking him?”
Anna leaned toward her friend.
“And you’re right. I won’t betray you again,” she said, softly into his ear. Troels turned to face her. His eyes were shiny.
“I’m sorry about Johannes,” he whispered. “I love him. I hope he gets better. I hope he’s not too upset.”
“He’s dead, Troels,” Anna said, gently. “Johannes is dead.”
Troels stared vacantly at her, then he turned away and Anna knew he was about to leave. This was the moment when she mustn’t betray him.
It only took ten seconds. She rested her full weight on his arm, blocking his view with her body, then she slipped the cable tie over his arm, looped it around a slat, and clicked it shut. He grunted, not realizing why she was lying across him. She pulled hard, he yanked back his arm, “What the hell are you doing?” Shit, she was too late, someone screamed. It wasn’t until she found herself on the floor three feet away, dazed and brandishing the screwdriver, that she discovered she was the one who was screaming. Troels thrashed about and tried to stand up. The bench groaned ominously. Anna gasped for air. The loop was tight, but Troels pulled at it. He shouted. Called her names. Threatened her. “I’ll kill you,” he screamed. “I’ll kill your kid.” People came running. The loop started to give. The plastic stretched white. She returned to him. He lashed out at her with his free arm, kicked her. Punched her on the side on her head. She saw stars. She forced herself to focus and slithered under the bench, where she looped the second cable tie around his arm, pulled it through the back of the bench, and tightened it. He lashed out again, stabbing a bent index finger against her temple, a direct hit. His arm started to go red. Anna rolled out of reach. His whole arm was tethered to the bench now. A crowd had gathered. “What’s going on?” someone shouted. Anna got out her cell, her hands were shaking. He answered it immediately.
“Søren,” Anna said. “Help me.”
Anna left the museum before the police arrived and ran down Jagtvejen, where she jumped on a bus. She was incandescent with rage when she rang Hanne Moritzen’s doorbell.
“Why is everyone lying to me?” she yelled when Hanne had let her in. Anna stamped her feet. Then she saw the look on Hanne’s face.
“Why did you lie about having a son?” she continued, somewhat appeased. “With Professor Helland! It makes no sense. Why didn’t you tell me?”