The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

Harry hadn’t seen her lose control before and answered in his gentlest voice.
‘Listen, we can’t link the murders to the illness or even make the connection seem a possibility.
And Krohn knows that. And so I can’t hold him.’
‘No, but you can’t just lie there and do nothing!’
Harry could feel his breastbone aching and it struck him that she was absolutely right.
She put both hands to her face. ‘I I I’m sorry. I just thought It’s been a strange day.’
‘Fine,’ Harry groaned. ‘Could you help me with this bar? I’m almost –’
‘The other end!’ she exclaimed, removing her hands from her face. ‘We’ll have to begin at the other
end. In Bergen!’
‘No,’ Harry whispered with the last air he had left in his lungs. ‘Bergen’s not an end. Could you ?
’
He looked up at her. Saw her dark eyes fill with tears.
‘It’s my period,’ she whispered. Then she smiled. It happened so fast that it was like another person
standing above him, a person with an odd sheen to her eyes and a voice under complete control.
‘And you can just die.’
In amazement, he heard the sound of her footsteps fading away, heard his own skeleton crack and
red dots begin to dance in front of his eyes. He cursed, wrapped his hands around the iron bar and,
with a roar, pushed. The bar wouldn’t budge.
She was right; he could in fact die like that. He could choose. Funny, but true.
He wriggled, tipped the bar to one side until he heard the weights slide off and hit the floor with a
deafening clang. Then the bar hit the floor on the other side. He sat up and watched the weights
careering around the room.
Harry showered, dressed and went upstairs to the sixth floor. Fell into the swivel chair, already
feeling the sweet ache of his muscles, which told him that he was going to be stiff in the morning.
There was a message on his voicemail from Bjørn Holm telling him to call back asap.
Holm picked up and there was the sound of heart-rending sobs accompanied by the slide tones of a
pedal steel guitar.
‘What is it?’ Harry asked.
‘Dwight Yoakam,’ Holm said, turning down the music. ‘Sexy bastard, ain’t he?’
‘I mean, what’s the call about?’
‘We’ve got the results for the Snowman letter.’
‘And?’