Part 38 (2/2)

The man named Lars calls out: Hey! Stop! He speaks into his cell phone. The man is trying to get onto the roof. I bet hes high on something. Its a little guy. I dont like this. It looks bad.

He calls out: Get back inside! Prison is better than what youre trying.

Iben manages to place one foot on the upper edge of the open window and heaves herself up. She tests the gutter. It seems solid. She moves one more step along and then tries to propel herself farther onto the roof, but a dangling edge of her sweater gets caught. She hangs on to an attic windowsill while she tries to free herself.

Lars talks to Henrik again: Better pull down your attic steps. The police will have to get up there to catch him.

She wastes a lot of time fiddling with the sweater, but in the end it tears. She looks at the large hole with relief. Supported by the attic window, she crawls up to the roof ridge, taking care to stay as flat as possible even though she is out of Larss sight. She cant see him either.

She pulls the scarf down. The wind fans her skin.

The villa is too enormous for Lars to be on the lookout everywhere. It should be possible to find a place where Iben can climb down and escape before he sees her. Then she sees him in front of the house. He has walked farther away to keep an eye on her. He sweeps his flashlight over part of the roof. Hurriedly she pushes the scarf back across her face, just in case.

There are lights on in two neighboring houses. One of them presumably belongs to Lars, but maybe another man is on his way.

Iben knows she needs to use the cords to get down now, but she doesnt dare. Instead she crawls until she is midway along the ridge of the roof. Lars wont be able to figure out where shes going next. But Henrik might open an attic window. And the police will arrive. And maybe more neighbors. More dogs.

Jump now.

Now.

Still she hesitates. Will the knot hold the cords together? She pulls them out of her pocket and tugs at them to check the knot.

She thinks of Rasmus, remembering how she found him.

She thinks of what will happen if her sweater or her jacket catches something maybe the gutter again or if she slips on the tiles.

A light comes on in the nearby attic windows. Car headlights are approaching fast. It can only be the police car.

Now.

She slides down to a dark attic window at the back of the house. Supported by its frame, she makes a noose at one end of the cord, places it around the window frame, and tightens it. Holding on to the cord, she descends to the edge of the roof.

She wants to reach the ground quickly, before the others have time to find her, but she hasnt counted on just how slippery the thin plastic cable is. She hits the first knot, barely managing to hold on, and then slides full speed down the next length. Her plan to stop halfway to a.s.sess where she is and choose the best spot to land fails.

When she reaches the last stretch of cord, it whips back into her hands and she cant hold on. Iben lands behind the house, next to a was.h.i.+ng rack and some garden furniture. Her feet, knees, and hands crash against the flagstones.

Ive survived, she thinks. That is the first thought to go through her head, and it makes her feel ecstatic.

She gets up. A tall fence is only a few feet away.

She pushes the garden table over to the fence and tries to jump up. She cant. Theres a sharp pain in her right foot. She crawls up onto the table, then onto the fence. She hauls herself down the other side, putting her weight on her arms and her left foot.

She looks around at the unfamiliar garden, but when she hears voices nearby she pushes herself through a hole at the bottom of the hedge to a garden next door. The voices seem to be moving off in the opposite direction.

The pain in her foot is excruciating. Her hands hurt too. Examining her palms, she realizes that the cable has ripped her gloves and even cut into her skin.

When the voices die away it is still dark.

Her bike is hidden in a driveway just down the road.

She gets up and limps toward it, thinking: I have something for Malene. Now were even.

chapter 39.

Shes such a liar! Its lies, all of it!

Reading this stuff makes Iben furious. She kicks her good foot hard against the mattress. She has taken a couple of painkillers, but the b.u.mp in her other foot still causes a shooting pain. This makes her even angrier.

Iben was too much on edge to sleep when she came home. She has brought her laptop to bed and the screen is covered in text: Monday morning. Ive been at the DCIG for two months now. I walk into their place. No one asks about my weekend, no one bothers about the trip I told them about last week. Simply nothing!

I just say Hi, sounding relaxed. Im trying to forget what they were like last week, to give them another chance, a fresh start. Just to do this one little thing: pop into their shared office andHi! Camilla says Hi too. Iben says not a word.

They dont bother to look at me. I stand there for a while, hoping for a little attention or something, ready to say a few words about what Ive done, what a nice time we had, how the sun shone something, anything!

It takes three minutes and Im back where I started. Dumped in the middle of all the misery I had managed to ignore for a while. Its that quick Anne-Lises CD is not pa.s.sword protected. Iben takes a deep breath and opens another file.

Its quite obvious that they insist on seeing me as the librarian, a dull figure n.o.body needs to take any notice of. They want me to behave in character and are prepared to do everything they can to force me to. It really angers them if I look attractive or say something interesting because it makes it harder for them to cut me out.

During the lunch hour, Iben fought with Camilla. Im positive that the reason was that she had caught Camilla chatting to me. n.o.body is allowed to talk to me; Iben and Malene will see to that, all right.

Every time Ive been away I forget how appallingly awful it is. When Im not surrounded by it, I simply cant believe what its like. How can anyone be so evil? I just dont understand!

Iben tosses and turns again. Luckily the two large empty mugs and the soup plate are on the small table by her bed. She leans back and wipes the sweat off her forehead with the duvet cover. She still hasnt recovered. Its a quarter past eight in the morning. She hasnt slept and within the next hour she must be at work, behaving normally.

After getting home on the suburban train, the first thing Iben did was to take painkillers and run herself a hot bath. She drank a mug of cocoa in the bath and then made herself a large bowl of oatmeal, mixed with raisins, nuts, and skim milk. Then she went to bed.

As far as she knows, she left nothing behind in Anne-Lises house that could identify her. No one recognized her seemingly, no one even realized that the intruder was a woman. But you never know.

She cant risk seeing the doctor today. If her foot doesnt get better in a few days, sh.e.l.l have to act as if the accident has just occurred. Before then, Anne-Lise will have seen her in perfect shape.

She opens another file, written only a few weeks ago.

I must hold on to the belief that the others arent justified. I must remember that. They have no right to decide that I should be eliminated. But when they say I dont get on with people, its true. Or so it seems I dont, not with the Centers users or my colleagues. Its all such a mess. Once upon a time I thought I was easy to work with, but maybe everyone was just pretending.

At times I think I should phone up my old library and ask if they really did like having me on the team. They would say yes, of course, but would that too be a lie? Ill never know.

Ibens nausea wont go away. Its easy to see from the diary that Anne-Lise is sick probably some form of paranoia, with attendant delusions. Iben decides to phone Grith this evening and discuss the more precise clinical diagnosis. But even if you know that, its still shocking to see this distorted view of yourself. The fact that its all down in writing, and in such a detailed, elaborate way, makes it all the more persuasive.

After failing to sleep earlier, Iben drops off while shes sitting on the toilet. She calls the office to say sh.e.l.l be in late. Just forty-five minutes, she says, and for once she gives in and takes a taxi to work.

As soon as she steps out on the fifth-floor landing, the security camera will pick up her image. Theyll be able to see her and they mustnt realize that her foot hurts like h.e.l.l. There must be no hint that shes feeling sick and hasnt slept all night or that shes just read Anne-Lises insane ramblings about herself and everybody else in the office. She stares defiantly at the camera and presses the doorbell. They let her in. Iben smiles and says h.e.l.lo. The piercing pain in her right heel and ankle makes her reluctant to take a single step, but she cant just stand there. She walks to the familiar row of hooks to hang up her jacket as best as she can.

Maybe this is how it is for Malene. She endures terrible pain at times and now she also fights to hide the fact that she barely sleeps for grieving over Rasmus. Before his death, Malene would talk to Iben about her fear of being disabled and alone. Sooner or later she could be wheelchair-bound, unable to get to work or to have children.

<script>