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    Don't Look Back
    Don't Look Back
    Don't Look Back
    Ebook354 pages5 hours

    Don't Look Back

    By Karin Fossum

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Don't Look Back is the second novel in Los Angeles Times Book Prize–winning author Karin Fossum's Inspector Sejer mystery series.

    "Sejer belongs alongside the likes of Adam Dalgliesh and Inspector Morse—a gifted detective and troubled man."—Boston Globe

    At the foot of the imposing Kollen Mountain lies a small, idyllic village, where neighbors know neighbors and children play happily in the streets. But when the body of a teenage girl is found by the lake at the mountaintop, the town's tranquility is shattered forever.

    Annie was strong, intelligent, and loved by everyone. What went so terribly wrong? Doggedly, yet subtly, Inspector Sejer uncovers layer upon layer of distrust and lies beneath the town's seemingly perfect façade.

    "Psychologically astute, subtly horrifying."—New York Times Book Review

    "Build[s] to a heart-stopping conclusion."—Entertainment Weekly


    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateJan 28, 2011
    ISBN9780547538846
    Author

    Karin Fossum

    KARIN FOSSUM is the author of the internationally successful Inspector Konrad Sejer crime series. Her recent honors include a Gumshoe Award and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for mystery/thriller. She lives in Norway.

    Read more from Karin Fossum

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    Reviews for Don't Look Back

    3.5/5

    434 ratings31 reviews

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    • 5/5
      I've read all of Karin Fossum's Inspector Sejer series and always found that they were nearly perfect physiological suspense. The author paints such a coherent picture of not only the crime but also of her beautiful country, Norway. Inspector Sejer comes across as a secretive...almost reclusive character but a brilliant and relentless investigator...one that won't stop until the crime is solved. The ending of this one is a bit disturbing but it's a throughout enjoyable read for the mystery & suspense enthusiast.
    • 3/5
      A satisfying murder mystery (Inspector Sejer). Full of psychological profiling of mains that also serves to gives you view of contemporary Norway. Good plot pace. As a mystery would have given a 4 or even 4 and a half star rating, but in relation to full literary scope of my library, it's a 3.
    • 4/5
      When a child disappears in a Norwegian village, everyone is worried. Detective Sejer and his new partner Jacob Skarre are called to investigate and then the girls shows up. But that is not the last bad thing that happens in the village - because the child had seen a dead woman near the lake - and the detectives, albeit not really believing it at the start, need to find out what happened to Annie - the girl that everyone seemed to love but is now dead. This is one of the first Sejer mysteries (second in Norwegian, first translated into English) and the partnership of the detectives is just starting. It is somewhat awkward but allows for a lot of backstory. I think I will stick to the Norwegian order for the rest of the series - the characters do change a lot while the mysteries progress. As for the mystery - it is another slow and moody mystery where detectives slowly find clues and stories; the past that keeps its secrets ends up being important for the current case. An old death, a wrong turn in the road and the tragedy was going to happen sooner or later. Although Fossum takes her time to get her detectives to find the bread crumbs that lead them to the solution. Another good entry in the series.
    • 3/5
      This is the second of Karin Fossum's Inspector Sejer mysteries, but I think the first one published in English. Sejer is a typical older male loner detective with some personal issues, which are only hinted at in this book. He is assigned to investigate the death of a teenage girl, found on a beach but with very little evidence of violence. Annie was well-liked at school, and in her small village, but several months earlier there was a noticeable change in her demeanor. This drives Sejer's investigation, but the resolution is anything but straightforward. There are many plausible suspects, which keeps the reader guessing. I found the translation a little clunky, but enjoyed this enough to continue the series.
    • 4/5
      Two thirds through this excellent Scandi Crime Novel , I along with the Inspector Sejer, had no idea who murdered Annie. No forensic clues, no witnesses, no motive and no leads. The only way solve this crime was unravel Annie’s life and in particular what event caused such a dramatic shift in her personality eight months prior to her death.

      Told through various points of view we are drawn into the life of the small village of 20 houses where Annie lived. There are many ‘what if’ theories expounded and followed through until finally things fall into place and what seem to be completely separate events prove to be linked in the oddest way.

      If you are looking for a detective novel that avoids all the clichéd casual violence surrounding the case, where the personality of the Inspector is developed over the course of the novel then this is the one for you.

    • 4/5
      Enjoyable, kept my attention throughout. Enjoyed the attention to characterization which I have generally found to be lacking in the few mysteries I have read, which is also the reason my library is so few in this genre.The ending wasn't overly dramatic which is another issue I have withcrime books. It does seem they all have to end with some sort of violence though. This to me often comes off as unrealistic. I found that to be the case with this book as well. Getting me to suspend disbelief can be a herculean feat though so please keep that in my mind if you are reading this review. This is a well written nicely paced mystery and an author definitely worth reading. I will be looking for the first in the series.
    • 4/5
      First line:~Ragnhild opened the door cautiously and peered out~This is Karin Fossum's second book in her Inspector Sejer series but the first published in English. I can see why she is known as the Norwegian Queen of Crime. I read [Black Seconds] and immediately read three more of her books. She is amazing. I cannot believe the way that she gets into the antagonist's head or, rather, allows us to get into the antagonist's head.I have found that as the reader is privy to the thoughts and feelings of the perpetrator of the crime, we know more than the police which is really very different from other books I have read. The depth of the characters captures my interest. I want to know more about Inspector Sejer and his partner, Jacob Skarre. This story deals with a murder of a teenage girl and the clues unfold carefully and subtly as we learn more about each character. Very disturbing and yet a great read.3.5 stars
    • 4/5
      Inspector Sejer is a likeable enough detective and Karin Fossum writes a tightly plotted detective story that keeps you guessing until near the end.
    • 3/5
      ***Spoilers***I enjoyed [Don't Look Back]. It picks up exactly where the first in the Inspector Sejer series left off. A young girl is missing but she is found shortly thereafter. It is what she sees while she is out that is the real mystery of this tale. A dead teenager is found.Inspector Sejer is meticulous without being fussy. He pours over every detail of the case. Even after his chief encourages him to place the blame on the girls boyfriend, he does not. The boy is found with incriminating evidence but Sejer is unconvinced. The girl is from a small dead end subdivision. There are many people living in the neighborhood. Like most families, they all have secrets. Sejer encounters them all. Slowly he eliminates his suspects and gets to the real culprit.What I like is that the crime is not given to you in extreme detail. It is the motive behind the crime that takes front and center in the story. It is the why, more than the where and how. I liked this book. I will be reading more of this series.
    • 5/5
      Discovered this slim volume at my local library and am truly pleased that I decided to bring it home.Excellent translation of the original because it reads fluidly. I completely lost sight of the fact that the story originated in another language. Normally, I see constant clues of non-English idiomatic phrasing in translated works.The story presents an excellent mystery, with lots of suspects subtly brought forward. Inspector Konrad Sejer, our main protagonist is an engaging character. Fossum has created a whole person who is easy to like, in the way he thinks and works as well as in his life outside of the case.I plan to work my way through the Inspector Sejer series. I have high expectations.
    • 5/5
      In a small Norwegian village the near-naked body of a teenage girl is found at the lake. Once they identify her as Annie Holland Inspector Konrad Sejer and Officer Jacob Skarre learn that everyone liked the athletic young girl who babysat for most of the village’s children although many people mention the change in her behaviour some months before her death. Having precious little in the way of evidence they have to determine whether it was just a normal part of growing up or whether there an event in her life that may have had something to do with her death.

      I’ve had this book in my TBR pile for over a year and it may have continued to languish there among all the others but for a post on a blog this week. What struck me particularly was a quote from Fossum about being interested in “‘the good guy who does something evil’ rather than the bogeyman.” Although I have read my share of rampaging serial killer books I generally don’t find them as satisfying as those that explore the circumstances and motivations behind ordinary people reaching some kind of breaking point and so was keen to get stuck into the first Inspector Sejer book translated into English.

      I knew absolutely nothing about the story when I started reading (I deliberately didn’t look at the blurb) and was hooked by the twist in the opening. As the book started I thought it was going to be about one sort of crime and just as I geared myself up for that it turned into something completely different. From then on the story was pieced together like an intricate jigsaw with many pieces needing to be turned this way and that before slotting into place to help reveal the whole picture. Without car chases or guns blazing the story managed to be suspense-filled and captivating from beginning to end as Sejer and Skarre teased out important details about village life from its inhabitants

      Fossum builds up her characters in a similar way as she does the plot: slowly revealing their secrets, pasts and fears over the course of the book. As you’d expect with the main characters we develop a fairly clear picture of Sejer and Skarre over the course of the novel but the minor characters too are equally well depicted, even if only in one aspect of their lives. Annie’s father’s conversation with the man in charge of the crematorium is one of the most beautiful depictions of a grieving father I have read.

      Don’t Look Back has all the things I love most in crime fiction: interesting, believable characters, a puzzle-like plot, a setting I can get lost in and a tangible credibility that sometime somewhere that exact scenario has played itself out in reality. Or will one day.
    • 3/5
      Yes, it's fine. Spare and minimalist, which is what I, for one, look for in Norwegian literature of any kind, frankly. The protagonist, Inspector Sejer, is clever, thoughtful and enigmatic. Okay, perhaps just a shade TOO enigmatic. I wanted to know him better, but that might come with the next books.I did see the ending coming from quite a ways off and I feel there's one great misstep involving an object being carried that is far too heavy not to tip off anyone at the scene (sorry, trying not to give anything away here).But it kept my interest and made me curious about the next in the series, although probably not enough to make me rush off and start reading it right away.
    • 4/5
      “Not a good reason. But the killer had a reason, which at that moment seemed to him to be the only choice.” (227)A quaint Norwegian village is rocked when Annie Holland’s fifteen year old body is discovered on the lakeshore – naked but unmarked. Annie was athletic, intelligent, and, by all accounts, well-loved by family and neighbours. The village children knew her as their favourite babysitter. Inspector Konrad Sejer and his partner, Jacob Karre, head up the investigation. Sejer is convinced that the killer is a local. Surely, then, in a village of only twenty-one houses, solving the case will be straight forward. Or not. The detectives uncover several leads, and, in the process, discover that the idyllic village is mired in deception and distrust. Karin Fossum is a name I’ve often heard favoured by lovers of Scandinavian crime fiction, but this is my first acquaintance with her. I’m impressed! Don’t Look Back is a well-written, fast paced, solid mystery. Konrad Sejer is a character I want to know better, so I’ll be spending more time with him – and with Fossum. Recommended.
    • 4/5
      The investigation of the disappearance of a young girl in a small Norwegian town results in the discovery of a body. Who killed this seemingly-well-liked girl, and why was she killed? If Inspector Sejer and his partner, Skarre, can unlock the secret of her personality, this might lead them to her killer.I was pleasantly surprised when the story went in some unexpected directions. Its ending was unpredictable until I had read well past the halfway point. Fossum cast suspicion on a number of credible suspects. The problem is that some of the suspects were cleared of suspicion by events or circumstances that weren't fully explained. Still, it's a strong start to a series that's become popular with fans of Scandinavian crime fiction.The relationship between middle-aged Sejer and the younger Skarre reminded me a bit of the relationship between Armand Gamache and Jean-Guy Beauvoir in Louise Penny's Three Pines series. They're not quite as charismatic as Penny's duo, but the dynamic is similar. This might be a good series for Penny's fans to experiment with while waiting for the release of the next Three Pines novel.
    • 4/5
      I like this series by a Norwegian crime novelist. Great atmosphere and characters that you want to visit again.
    • 4/5
      This book opens with what appears to be a case of child abduction. Inspector Sejer is called to investigate. The reader will soon discover, however, that the book is more about what the child saw during the hours she was gone. This book is not quite as tense of an atmosphere as many Scandinavian crime novels, but there are some literary elements in the puzzle, particularly in reflecting on the past of the characters, that will keep readers pondering the book. I enjoyed the mystery, but I did miss the darker atmosphere that I've come to expect in Scandinavian mysteries.
    • 4/5
      This was the first book that I have read by Norwegian author Karin Fossum, and I liked it, but I didn't love it. I think I was expecting something grittier and darker, and so I was tensed throughout the book waiting for the other shoe to drop...and it never did. That being said, it was a solid mystery with excellent pacing and interesting characters.Inspector Sejer is called out to investigate the disappearance of a six year old girl who eventually turns up, but when she shares her story, the police investigate and discover the body of 15 year old Annie Holland who has been murdered and left lying naked, except for a jacket that doesn't belong to her, on the beach. It's a small town, and everyone knows everyone else's business, but no one seems to know what happened to Annie or why someone would want to hurt her. Although I guessed the murderer early on, watching the story play out was well worth the time it took to read. I will read the next in this series as I have found that many great mystery series need several books to develop the characters and the writing style. Also, now that I know that this is not a series like those of Jo Nesbo or Stieg Larson, both of whom I love, I will have different expectations. Fossum did surprise me with the last few pages - and creeped me out a bit.
    • 4/5
      Don’t Look Back by Karin Fossum is the second book in her Inspector Sejer series, although it is the first to be translated into English. Taking place in a small town in Norway, this is a case of everyone knowing both the victim, the witnesses and, perhaps even the murderer.Written in a very different style from most of the Scandicrime books I have read, at first I missed the moody atmosphere that I have come to expect. Nevertheless, this is a first class police procedural and the tension mounts slowly as the police slowly put the pieces together in the death of a fifteen year old girl. With a few red herrings scattered about, they sort through the evidence, painstakingly interview witness and suspects alike. With Inspector Konrad Sejer, the author has created a strong main character to build her mysteries around and I hope to see more development of this character as the series evolves. In this first book, he acts very much as the lens of a camera, recording the events that happen around him. There are small hints of an interesting backstory and I do hope to learn more in successive books.Karin Fossum has delivered a good story with suspense and tension, and I certainly will be continuing on with this series.
    • 4/5
      "There's supposed to be a sea serpent in the fjord here. It's a legend, a story from the old days. If you're out rowing and hear a splashing sound behind your boat, that's the sea serpent rising up from the depths. You should never look back, just be careful to keep on rowing. If you pretend to ignore it and leave it in peace, everything will be fine, but if you look back into its eyes, it will pull you down into the great darkness. According to legend, it has red eyes."In Don't Look Back, a Norwegian mystery by Karin Fossum, a number of characters have sea serpents in their past that they can't leave in peace. Annie, an athletic 15 year old girl whom everyone in the village liked, is found dead in the woods, naked and covered with a jacket. Inspector Sejer has to figure out why this would have happened and who did it, when nothing seems to support its occurrence. Her boyfriend Halvor is one of those with a serpent trailing him, but he otherwise seems an unlikely suspect. Her death seems more an act of despair than evil. What had happened? Why did Annie have a mysterious memento from an unlikely location? What had caused her placid, pleasant attitude to change in the months before her death?Inspector Sejer, having lost his beloved wife years before, has his own serpents behind, but brightens with this puzzle to solve. He's an appealing character, and has developed a devoted following based on this series. He's aided by his Leonberger dog Kollberg and his colleague Jacob. In the end he does sort it out, and he helps the survivors climb out of the great darkness they were pulled into. I'll look forward to reading more of Inspector Sejer's adventures.
    • 4/5
      A child is lost and found and a teenage girl is murdered. For fans of classic police procedurals – excellent characterization and plot.
    • 3/5
      Chief Inspector Konrad Sejer is a pretty good protagonist for a detective series -- damaged (but only slightly), outwardly reserved with a deep if not particularly rich inner emotional life, smart, respected and without much in the way of attachments. We find out a little about him in this, the first published in English translation although actually the second in the Sejer series, but not so much that we wouldn't want to come back to find out more. I immediately took steps to get my hands on the next in the series, "He Who Fear the Wolf", so it's at least that good.But it isn't great. Somehow the tension wasn't there. It was like we knew we'd find out WhoDidIt but had to do our duty and read the words. The really interesting character started out dead, which was maybe the problem.
    • 4/5
      Don't Look Back by Karin Fossum is a solid 4 star read. I so enjoyed the complexities and shades of gray of this thriller/ mystery. This is Karin Fossum's first book that was translated into English -and what a wonderful read!In this story we are introduced to Skarre and Sejer, the two Norwegian Detectives who make up the police duo of Karin Fossum's thriller/ mysteries. I so enjoy her writing. It's so refreshing compared to many North American thriller/ mysteries. The police are not corrupt, men are not busy chasing women, nor going to bed with every skirt in sight, and they have no need of swearing - at least in the two Karin Fossum's that I have read. Right there, Karin Fossum has it on many a thriller/ mystery written in North America.I enjoyed the many aspects of so many lives that were investigated in the course of this mystery. Karin Fossum is great at developing psychological portraits of many of the characters, and giving us an understanding of why people do what they do. Things are not neccesarily black and white - and I appreciate that, as that is what life is so often like.The story starts out with a missing six year old, Ragnhild......... and from there the body of 15 year old Annie is found dead beside a lake. Who did what, and why -and what are the ramifications and reasoning - if any - behind these events? Well, I do not want to give away the plot -but suffice it to say that Karin Fossum has become on of my favourite new thriller/ mystery writers. The story is mulitfaceted and the ending most thought provoking.Karin Fossum gives such wonderful psychological insight into her character's - I think she is now one of my favourite authors. I highly recommend her!
    • 4/5
      The Book Report: Herein we're introduced to Inspector Konrad Sejer, homicide detective in a Norwegian city, as he solves the murder of the popular, universally beloved young athlete and all-around good girl Annie Holland. Sejer can't crack the shell of acclaim and plaudits that surround the dead girl. No one, and I mean NO ONE, will admit that she was anything but beautiful and perfectly kind. Well, no one except her slow-top sexpot older sister...make that half-sister...who finally, in an unedited moment, admits that she found Annie a bit snide at times. No one else, from her horrible harpy of a mother to her convicted rapist of a sports coach to the neighbor whose dead toddler she was the only one who could handle, will give Sejer the way in to her life that he needs to discover her killer.Since this is a mystery, not real life, Sejer and his newly minted partner Jacob Skarre do find the way in, and the killer is brought to justice barely in time to prevent a third needless death. Along the way, as really happens when police start turning over rocks in the search for evidence, lives are altered, lives are ruined, and even lost; in the end, does the guilt of the murderer being proved make up for the pace of destruction left in the wake of the search? Fossum provides no answer, or does she pretend that it's even of more than passing concern for her characters.My Review: I began this book excited, if a little reluctant; I am always conflicted when starting a series of mysteries. It's nice to know that there are a few more pleasures to be had with an agreeable set of characters; my orderly side likes to know that justice will be served; but then, well, then there's that oppressive sense that *yet*more*books* have landed on the pile of material that, should I live to be 150, will never disappear, or even appreciably diminish. That feels a little depressing to me, to have a task (however much I love the task, and I do) that simply cannot be finished. Sort of like laundry, a Sisyphean labor of impossibly distant closure. (Unless you launder naked and don't put on clothes until you go outside your house, everything is always a little dirty, and therefore always laundry. It's just depressing.)And then the trouble set in. We have dead children, never ever a favorite theme of mine. We have violent men, never ever a favorite theme of mine. We have a grouchy, isolated older detective, kind of overused. But then we have Norway as our backdrop, fresh and new to me. We have prose that, in English translation, feels immediate and grippingly suspenseful. We have characters limned against a bright background in sharp, dark strokes, like reverse film noir...hard to do, and done well here. But on balance, I really don't feel four-starry about the book. I'll read more, of course. I'll even enjoy them, provided we don't have more dead children. But the bright bloom of excitement dimmed a bit, as I suppose was inevitable, and it seems to me that it needn't have. Other choices could have been made. But they weren't, and so here I am, only pleased, not overwhelmed.Welcome to life as an adult, I suppose.
    • 4/5
      Scandinavian mystery.A teenage girl is found killed at a lakefront. Investigation turns on the death of a young child, very hyperactive, a few years earlier, whose death was then ruled an accident. The girl who is now dead was a baby sitter for him, and her personality changed after the child's death.At first this seemed like a straight procedural detective story, with little exploration of the characters and their personalities. But, it did develop into more than I expected, which made it more enjoyable for me.
    • 5/5
      Excellent story, very well crafted, about a nice, well-liked young girl who is killed in a small town, and the detective who solves the mystery of her death in a careful, slow way. Very intriguing story. As someone who grew up in a small town, I can testify that Karin Fossum captured the dynamics perfectly.
    • 4/5
      I wanted to like this more than I did. The crime and setting were creepy. This is the first of a series featuting Inspector Sejer and I got glimpses of his character, primarily his relationship with his dog, but I wanted more. I think Fossum could have done much more with character development and I also found the ending ambiguous and unsatisfying.
    • 4/5
      Another terrific thriller from Karin Fossum, featuring the slow- moving but perceptive Inspector Sejer. This time, he is investigating the death of a lovely young girl, in a small Norwegian town. The peeling back of the town's secrets is extraordinarily suspenseful, the atmosphere is powerfully drawn, and the writing a real pleasure.
    • 4/5
      Annie was fifteen. She was pretty, athletic and popular. No one would ever think of hurting her.. but someone did. Her body was found near a lake, shattering the tranquil setting of her sleepy hometown in Norway. Inspector Konrad Sejer, middle-aged, taciturn, is called in to investigate. Fossum is a strong writer, who builds her story quietly, carefully peeling off layers, revealing dark unsettling secrets. I like the fact that she does not just stay focused on the point of view of the Inspector but also spends time with some of the other characters, filling out the narrative. This is the first book in a series and one I highly recommend.
    • 4/5
      This is the first book in the series featuring Inspector Sejer, and is set in Norway. In this book, the body of a popular, athletic teenage girl is discovered beside the lake in a popular wooded hiking area near the small village where she lived. There are few clues and Sejer must keep digging to learn more about the girl. She was universally well-liked, so it seems that no one would have a motive for killing her. On the other hand, at 15 she was a beautiful young woman who might have captured the imagination of any man in town who could have gotten carried away by a fantasy gone wrong. Suspects include the down's syndrome man who discovered the body and who, as everyone knows, has a "thing" for girls. Or it might have been her sullen boyfriend, 18 years old, whose father died under suspicious circumstances. Or maybe her mother's first husband, a man who was angry at having been denied access to his own daughter. Or it could have been somehow related to the death of a neighborhood boy several months earlier - a hyperactive 2-year old that she used to babysit - the timing of which coincides with an unexplained change in her personality. Or the coach of the handball team that she suddenly quit at about the same time - a man who had earlier served a prison sentence for rape. Or it might have had to do with a secret that she was keeping to herself that was discovered by police.Sejer methodically plods through all the evidence, interviewing the suspects over and over, uncovering something new each time until the pieces finally all fall into place. Not a fast paced thriller, but it does not drag. Sejer is also introduced, a widower who lost his wife to cancer. He thinks about her often, ponders his relationship with his daughter, and dotes on his grandson. He lives on the top floor of the only high-rise apartment in town and keeps a large dog inside the no-pets building. He is alone, but can't quite decide if he is lonely.I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
    • 5/5
      This is one of those mystery books you read on a rainy Saturday afternoon in one sitting. The story flows in a simplistic but compelling manner; An easy read with a great story line. As someone from LibraryThing once said suggested for a genre, "a bring-to-the-beach kind of book." In that case Don't Look Back was summer fare read too early (for me). It is the mystery of the death of a teenage girl. Known throughout her small town she was loved by nearly everyone. How could someone so charming, so lovable, so perfect die so young? Inspector Sejer is the lead investigator on the case. With calm and quiet tenacity he unravels a seemingly sweet life only to reveal lies and suspicions. This is the kind of mystery that keeps the pages turning as things become more and more complicated. Originally written in Norwegian and translated by Felicity David, Don't Look Back urges the reader to keep turning the pages until compulsively, the entire book has been read from cover to cover.

    Book preview

    Don't Look Back - Karin Fossum

    1

    Ragnhild opened the door cautiously and peered out. Up on the road everything was quiet, and a breeze that had been playing among the buildings during the night had finally died down. She turned and pulled the doll’s carriage over the threshold.

    We haven’t even eaten yet, Marthe complained.

    She helped push the carriage.

    I have to go home. We’re going out shopping, Ragnhild said.

    Shall I come over later?

    You can if you like. After we’ve done the shopping.

    She was on the gravel now and began to push the carriage toward the front gate. It was heavy going, so she turned it around and pulled it instead.

    See you later, Ragnhild.

    The door closed behind her—a sharp slam of wood and metal. Ragnhild struggled with the gate, but she mustn’t be careless. Marthe’s dog might get out. He was watching her intently from beneath the garden table. When she was sure that the gate was properly closed, she started off across the street in the direction of the garages. She could have taken the shortcut between the buildings, but she had discovered that it was too difficult with the carriage. Just then a neighbor closed his garage door. He smiled at her and buttoned up his coat, a little awkwardly, with one hand. A big black Volvo sat in the driveway, rumbling pleasantly.

    Well, Ragnhild, you’re out early, aren’t you? Hasn’t Marthe got up yet?

    I slept over last night, she said. On a mattress on the floor.

    I see.

    He locked the garage door and glanced at his watch; it was 8:06 A.M. A moment later he turned the car into the street and drove off.

    Ragnhild pushed the carriage with both hands. She had reached the downhill stretch, which was rather steep, and she had to hold on tight so as not to lose her grip. Her doll, who was named Elise—after herself, because her name was Ragnhild Elise—slid down to the front of the carriage. That didn’t look good, so she let go with one hand and put the doll back in place, patted down the blanket, and continued on her way. She was wearing sneakers: one was red with green laces, the other was green with red laces, and that’s how it had to be. She had on a red sweat suit with Simba the Lion across the chest and a green anorak over it. Her hair was extraordinarily thin and blond, and not very long, but she had managed to pull it into a topknot with an elastic band. Bright plastic fruit dangled from the band, with her sprout of hair sticking up in the middle like a tiny, neglected palm tree. She was six and a half, but small for her age. Not until she spoke would you guess that she was already in school.

    She met no one on the hill, but as she approached the intersection she heard a car. So she stopped, squeezed over to the side, and waited as a van with its paint peeling off wobbled over a speed bump. It slowed even more when the girl in the red outfit came into view. Ragnhild wanted to cross the street. There was a sidewalk on the other side, and her mother had told her always to walk on the sidewalk. She waited for the van to pass, but it stopped instead, and the driver rolled down his window.

    You go first. I’ll wait, he said.

    She hesitated a moment, then crossed the street, turning around again to tug the carriage up on the sidewalk. The van slid forward a bit, then stopped again. The window on the opposite side was rolled down. His eyes are funny, she thought, really big and round as a ball. They were set wide apart and were pale blue, like thin ice. His mouth was small with full lips, and it pointed down like the mouth of a fish. He stared at her.

    Are you going up Skiferbakken with that carriage?

    She nodded. I live in Granittveien.

    It’ll be awfully heavy. What have you got in it, then?

    Elise, she replied, lifting up the doll.

    Excellent, he said with a broad smile. His mouth looked nicer now.

    He scratched his head. His hair was disheveled, and grew in thick clumps straight up from his head like the leaves of a pineapple. Now it looked even worse.

    I can drive you up there, he said. There’s room for your carriage in the back.

    Ragnhild thought for a moment. She stared up Skiferbakken, which was long and steep. The man pulled on the handbrake and glanced in the back of the van.

    Mama’s waiting for me, Ragnhild said.

    A bell seemed to ring in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t remember what it was for.

    You’ll get home sooner if I drive you, he said.

    That decided it. Ragnhild was a practical little girl. She wheeled the carriage behind the van and the man hopped out. He opened the back door and lifted the carriage in with one hand.

    You’ll have to sit in back and hold the carriage. Otherwise it’ll roll around, he said, and lifted in Ragnhild too.

    He shut the back door, climbed into the driver’s seat, and released the brake.

    Do you go up this hill every day? He looked at her in the mirror.

    Only when I’ve been at Marthe’s house. I stayed over.

    She took a flowered overnight bag from under the doll’s blanket and opened it, checking that everything was in place: her nightgown with the picture of Nala on it, her toothbrush and hairbrush. The van lumbered over another speed bump. The man was still looking at her in the mirror.

    Have you ever seen a toothbrush like this? Ragnhild said, holding it up for him. It had feet.

    No! he said. Where did you get it?

    Papa bought it for me. You don’t have one like it?

    No, but I’ll ask for one for Christmas.

    He was finally over the last bump, and he shifted to second gear. It made an awful grinding noise. The little girl sat on the floor of the van steadying the carriage. A very sweet little girl, he thought, red and cute in her sweat suit, like a ripe little berry. He whistled a tune and felt on top of the world, enthroned behind the wheel in the big van with the little girl in the back. Really on top of the world.

    The village lay in the bottom of a valley, at the end of a fjord, at the foot of a mountain, like a pool in a river, where the water was much too still. And everyone knows that only running water is fresh. The village was a stepchild of the municipality, and the roads that led there were indescribably bad. Once in a while a bus deigned to stop by the abandoned dairy and pick up people to take them to town. There were no night buses back to the village.

    Kollen, the mountain, was a gray, rounded peak, virtually neglected by those who lived there, but eagerly visited by people from far-off places. This was because of the mountain’s unusual minerals and its flora, which was exceptionally rare. On calm days a faint tinkling could be heard from the mountaintop; one might almost believe it was haunted. In fact, the sound was from sheep grazing up there. The ridges around the mountain looked blue and airy through the haze, like soft felt with scattered woolen veils of fog.

    Konrad Sejer traced the main highway in the road atlas with a fingertip. They were approaching a traffic circle. Police Officer Karlsen was at the wheel, keeping an attentive eye on the fields while following the directions.

    Now you have to turn right onto Gneisveien, then up Skiferbakken, then left at Feltspatveien. Granittveien goes off to the right. A cul-de-sac, Sejer said pensively. Number 5 should be the third house on the left.

    He was tense. His voice was even more brusque than usual.

    Karlsen maneuvered the car into the housing development and over the speed bumps. As in so many places, the new arrivals had taken up residence in clusters, some distance from the rest of the local community. Apart from giving directions, the two policemen didn’t talk much. They approached the house, trying to steel themselves, thinking that perhaps the child might even be back home by now. Perhaps she was sitting on her mother’s lap, surprised and embarrassed at all the fuss. It was 1:00 P.M., so the girl had been missing for five hours. Two would have been within a reasonable margin, five was definitely too long. Their unease was growing steadily, like a dead spot in the chest where the blood refused to flow. Both of them had children of their own: Karlsen’s daughter was eight, Sejer had a grandson of four. The silence was filled with images, which might turn out to be correct—this was what struck Sejer as they drew up in front of the house.

    Number 5 was a low white house with dark-blue trim. A typical prefab house with no personality, but embellished like a playroom with decorative shutters and scalloped edges on the gables. The yard was well kept. A large veranda with a prettily turned railing ran around the entire building. The house sat almost at the top of the ridge, with a view over the whole village, a small village, quite lovely, surrounded by farms and fields. A patrol car that had come on ahead of them was parked next to the mailbox.

    Sejer went first, wiping his shoes carefully on the mat, and ducking his head as he entered the living room. It took them only a second to see what was happening. She was still missing, and the panic was palpable. On the sofa sat the mother, a stocky woman in a gingham dress. Next to her, with a hand on the mother’s arm, sat a woman officer. Sejer could almost smell the terror in the room. The mother was using what little strength she had to hold back her tears, or perhaps even a piercing shriek of horror. The slightest effort made her breathe hard, as was evident when she stood up to shake hands with Sejer.

    Mrs. Album, he said. Someone is out searching, is that correct?

    Some of the neighbors. They have a dog with them.

    She sank back onto the sofa.

    We have to help each other.

    He sat down in the armchair facing her and leaned forward, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

    We’ll send out a dog patrol. Now, you have to tell me all about Ragnhild. Who she is, what she looks like, what she’s wearing.

    No reply, just persistent nodding. Her mouth looked stiff and frozen.

    Have you called every possible place where she could be?

    There aren’t many, she murmured. I’ve called them all.

    Do you have relatives anywhere else in the village?

    No, none. We’re not from around here.

    Does Ragnhild go to kindergarten or nursery school?

    There weren’t any openings.

    Does she have brothers or sisters?

    She’s our only child.

    He tried to breathe without making a sound.

    First of all, he said, what was she wearing? Be as precise as you can.

    A red sweat suit, she stammered, with a lion on the front. Green anorak with a hood. One red and one green shoe.

    She spoke in fits and starts, her voice threatening to break.

    And Ragnhild herself? Describe her for me.

    About four feet tall. Thirty-five pounds. Very fair hair. We just took her for her sixth-year checkup.

    She went to the wall by the TV, where a number of photos were hanging. Most of them were of Ragnhild, one was of Mrs. Album in national costume, and one of a man in the field uniform of the Home Guard, presumably the father. She chose one in which the girl was smiling and handed it to him. Her hair was almost white. The mother’s was jet black, but the father was blond. Some of his hair was visible under his service cap.

    What sort of girl is she?

    Trusting, she gasped. Talks to everybody. This admission made her shiver.

    That’s just the kind of child who gets along best in this world, he said firmly. We’ll have to take the picture with us.

    I realize that.

    Tell me, he said, sitting down again, where do the children in this village go walking?

    Down to the fjord. To Prestegards Strand or to Horgen. Or to the top of Kollen. Some go up to the reservoir, or they go walking in the woods.

    He looked out the window and saw the black firs.

    Has anyone at all seen Ragnhild since she left?

    Marthe’s neighbor met her by his garage when he was leaving for work. I know because I called his wife.

    Where does Marthe live?

    In Krystallen, just a few minutes from here.

    She had her doll carriage with her?

    Yes. A pink Brio.

    What’s the neighbor’s name?

    Walther, she said, surprised. Walther Isaksen.

    Where can I find him?

    He works at Dyno Industries, in the personnel department.

    Sejer stood up, went over to the telephone and called information, then punched in the number and waited.

    I need to speak with one of your employees immediately. The name is Walther Isaksen.

    Mrs. Album gave him a worried look from the sofa. Karlsen was studying the view from the window, the blue ridges, the fields, and a white church steeple in the distance.

    Konrad Sejer of the police, Sejer said curtly. I’m calling from 5 Granittveien, and you probably know why.

    Is Ragnhild still missing?

    Yes. But I understood that you saw her when she left Marthe’s house this morning.

    I was just shutting my garage door.

    Did you notice the time?

    It was 8:06 A.M. I was running a little late.

    Are you quite sure of the time?

    I have a digital watch.

    Sejer was silent, trying to recall the way they had driven.

    So you left her at 8:06 A.M. by the garage and drove straight to work?

    Yes.

    Down Gneisveien and out to the main highway?

    That’s correct.

    I would think, Sejer said, that at that time of day most people are driving toward town and that there’s probably little traffic going the other way.

    Yes, that’s right. There are no main roads going through the village. And no jobs, either.

    Did you pass any cars on the way that were driving toward the village?

    The man was silent for a moment. Sejer waited. The room was as quiet as a tomb.

    Yes, actually. I did pass one, down by the flats, just before the traffic circle. A van, I think, ugly and with peeling paint. Driving quite slowly.

    Who was driving it?

    A man, he said hesitantly. One man.

    My name is Raymond. He smiled.

    Ragnhild looked up, saw the smiling face in the mirror, and Kollen Mountain bathed in the morning light.

    Would you like to go for a drive?

    Mama’s waiting for me.

    She said it in a stuck-up sort of voice.

    Have you ever been to the top of Kollen?

    One time, with Papa. We had a picnic.

    It’s possible to drive up there, he explained. From the back side, that is. Shall we drive up to the top?

    I want to go home, she said, a bit uncertain now.

    He shifted down and stopped.

    Just a short ride? he asked.

    His voice was thin. Ragnhild thought he sounded so sad. And she wasn’t used to disappointing the wishes of grown-ups. She got up, walked forward to the front seat and leaned over.

    Just a short ride, she repeated. Up to the top and then back home right away.

    He backed into Feldspatveien and drove back downhill.

    What’s your name? he asked.

    Ragnhild Elise.

    He rocked a little from side to side and cleared his throat, as if to admonish her.

    Ragnhild Elise. You can’t go out shopping so early in the morning. It’s only 8:15 A.M. The shops are closed.

    She didn’t answer. Instead she lifted Elise out of the pram, put her on her lap, and straightened her dress. Then she pulled the pacifier out of the doll’s mouth. Instantly the doll began to scream, a thin, metallic baby cry.

    What’s that?

    He braked hard and looked in the mirror.

    That’s just Elise. She cries when I take out her pacifier.

    I don’t like that noise! Put it back in!

    He was restless at the wheel now, and the van weaved back and forth.

    Papa is a better driver than you are, she said.

    I had to teach myself, he said sulkily. Nobody wanted to teach me.

    Why not?

    He didn’t reply, just tossed his head. The van was out on the main highway now; he drove in second gear down to the traffic circle and passed through the intersection with a hoarse roar.

    Now we’re coming to Horgen, she said, delighted.

    He didn’t reply. Ten minutes later he turned left, up into the wooded mountainside. On the way they passed a couple of farms with red barns and tractors parked here and there. They saw no one. The road grew narrower and peppered with holes. Ragnhild’s arms were starting to grow tired from holding onto the carriage, so she laid the doll on the floor and put her foot between the wheels as a brake.

    This is where I live, he said suddenly and stopped.

    With your wife?

    No, with my father. But he’s in bed.

    Hasn’t he got up?

    He’s always in bed.

    She peered curiously out of the window and saw a peculiar house. It had been a hut once, and someone had added on to it, first once, then again. The separate parts were all different colors. Next to it stood a garage of corrugated iron. The courtyard was overgrown. A rusty old trowel was being slowly strangled by stinging nettles and dandelions. But Ragnhild wasn’t interested in the house; she had her eye on something else.

    Bunnies! she said faintly.

    Yes, he said, pleased. Do you want to look at them?

    He hopped out, opened the back, and lifted her down. He had a peculiar way of walking; his legs were almost unnaturally short and he was severely bowlegged. His feet were small. His wide nose nearly touched his lower lip, which stuck out a bit. Under his nose hung a big, clear drop. Ragnhild thought he wasn’t that old, although when he walked he swayed like an old man. But it was funny too. A boy’s face on an old body. He wobbled over to the rabbit hutches. Ragnhild stood spellbound.

    Can I hold one?

    Yes. Take your pick.

    The little brown one, she said, entranced.

    That’s Påsan. He’s the nicest.

    He opened the hutch and lifted out the rabbit. A chubby, lop-eared rabbit, the color of coffee with a lot of cream. It kicked its legs vigorously but calmed down as soon as Ragnhild took it in her arms. For a moment she was utterly still. She could feel its heart pounding against her hand, as she stroked one of its ears cautiously. It was like a piece of velvet between her fingers. Its nose shone black and moist like a licorice drop. Raymond stood next to her and watched. He had a little girl all to himself, and no one had seen them.

    The picture, Sejer said, along with the description, will be sent to the newspapers. Unless they hear otherwise, they’ll print it tonight.

    Irene Album fell across the table sobbing. The others stared wordlessly at their hands, and at her shaking back. The woman officer sat ready with a handkerchief. Karlsen scraped his chair a bit and glanced at his watch.

    Is Ragnhild afraid of dogs? Sejer said.

    Why do you ask? she said with surprise.

    Sometimes when we’re searching for children with the dog patrol, they hide when they hear our German shepherds.

    No, she’s not afraid of dogs.

    The words reverberated in his head. She’s not afraid of dogs.

    Have you had any luck getting hold of your husband?

    He’s in Narvik on maneuvers, she whispered. On the plateau somewhere.

    Don’t they use mobile phones?

    They’re out of range.

    The people who are looking for her now, who are they?

    Boys from the neighborhood who are home in the daytime. One of them has a phone with him.

    How long have they been gone?

    She looked up at the clock on the wall. More than two hours.

    Her voice was no longer quavering. Now she sounded doped, almost lethargic, as if she were half asleep. Sejer leaned forward again and spoke to her as softly and clearly as he could.

    "What you fear the most has probably not happened. Do you realize that? Usually, children disappear for all sorts of trivial reasons. And it’s a fact that children get lost all the time, just because they’re children. They have no sense of time or responsibility, and they’re so maddeningly curious that they follow any impulse that comes into their head. That’s what it’s like to be a child, and that’s why they get lost. But as a rule they turn up just as suddenly as they disappeared. Often they don’t have a good explanation for where they’ve been or what they were doing. But generally—he took a breath—they’re quite all right."

    I know! she said, staring at him. But she’s never gone off like this before!

    She’s growing up and getting bigger, he said persuasively. She’s becoming more adventurous.

    God help me, he thought, I’ve got an answer for everything. He got up and dialed another number, repressing an urge to look at his watch again—it would be a reminder that time was passing, and they didn’t need that. He reached the Duty Officer, gave him a brief summary of the situation and asked him to contact a volunteer rescue group. He gave him the address in Granittveien and gave a quick description of the girl: dressed in red, almost white hair, pink doll’s carriage. Asked whether any messages had come in, and was told none had been received. He sat down again.

    Has Ragnhild mentioned or named anyone lately whom you didn’t know yourself?

    No.

    Did she have any money? Could she have been looking for a shop?

    She had no money.

    This is a small village, he went on. Has she ever been out walking and been given a ride by one of the neighbors?

    Yes, that happens sometimes. There are about a hundred houses on this ridge, and she knows almost everyone, and she knows their cars. Sometimes she and Marthe have walked down to the church with their carriages, and they’ve been given a ride home with one of the neighbors.

    Is there any special reason why they go to the church?

    There’s a little boy they knew buried there. They pick flowers for his grave, and then they come back up here. I think it seems exciting to them.

    You’ve searched at the church?

    I called for Ragnhild at ten o’clock. When they told me she had left at eight, I jumped in the car. I left the front door unlocked in case she came back while I was out searching. I drove to the church and down to the Fina gas station, I looked in the auto workshop and behind the dairy, and then I drove over to the school to look in the schoolyard, because they have jungle gyms and things there. And then I checked the kindergarten. She was so keen on starting school, she . . .

    Another bout of sobbing took hold. As she wept, the others sat still and waited. Her eyes were puffy now, and she was crumpling her skirt in her fingers in despair. After a while her sobs died away and the lethargy returned—a shield to keep the terrible possibilities at bay.

    The phone rang. A sudden ominous jangle. She gave a start and got up to answer it, but caught sight of Sejer’s hand held up to stop her. He lifted the receiver.

    Hello? Is Irene there?

    It sounded like a boy. Who’s calling?

    Thorbjørn Haugen. We’re looking for Ragnhild.

    You’re speaking with the police. Do you have any news?

    We’ve been to all the houses on the whole ridge. Every single one. A lot of people weren’t home, though we did meet a lady in Feltspatveien. A truck had backed into her farmyard and turned around; she lives in number 1. A kind of van, she thought. And inside the van she saw a girl with a green jacket and white hair pulled into a topknot on her head. Ragnhild often wears her hair in a topknot.

    Go on.

    It turned halfway up the hill and drove back down. Disappeared around the curve.

    Do you know what time it was?

    It was 8:15 A.M.

    Can you come over to Granittveien?

    We’ll be right there; we’re at the circle now.

    He hung up. Irene Album was still standing.

    What was it? she whispered. What did they say?

    Someone saw her, he said slowly. She got into a van.

    Irene Album’s scream finally came. It was as if the sound penetrated through the tight forest and created a faint movement in Ragnhild’s mind.

    I’m hungry, she said suddenly. I have to go home.

    Raymond looked up. Pasån was shuffling about on the kitchen table and licking up the seeds they had scattered over it. They had forgotten both time and place. They had fed all the rabbits, Raymond had shown her his pictures, cut out of magazines and carefully pasted into a big album. Ragnhild kept roaring with laughter at his funny face. Now she realized that it was getting late.

    You can have a slice of bread.

    I have to go home. We’re going shopping.

    We’ll go up to Kollen first, then I’ll drive you home afterward.

    Now! she said firmly. I want to go home now.

    Raymond thought desperately for a way to stall her.

    All right. But first I have to go out and buy some milk for Papa, down at Horgen’s Shop. You can wait here; then it won’t take as long.

    He stood up and looked at her. At her bright face with the little heart-shaped mouth that made him think of heart-shaped cinnamon sweets. Her eyes were clear and blue and her eyebrows were dark, surprising beneath her white bangs. He sighed heavily, walked over to the back door and opened it.

    Ragnhild really wanted to leave, but she didn’t know the way home, so she would have to wait. She padded into the little living room with the rabbit in her arms and curled up in a corner of the sofa. They hadn’t slept much last night, she and Marthe, and with the warm animal in the hollow of her throat she quickly grew sleepy. Soon her eyes closed.

    It was a while before he came back. For a long time he sat and looked at her, amazed at how quietly she slept. Not a movement, not a single little sigh. He thought she had expanded a bit, become larger and warmer, like a loaf in the oven. After a while he grew uneasy and didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he put them in his pockets and rocked a little in his chair. Then he started kneading

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