The Draining Lake

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Book: Read The Draining Lake for Free Online
Authors: Arnaldur Indridason
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Police Procedural
He stood up to take his leave.
    'Sometimes I get so angry with him,' the wife said, and Sigurdur Óli did not know whether she was referring to her husband or her son.
     
    Valgerdur was waiting for Erlendur at the restaurant. She was wearing the same full-length leather coat that she had worn on their first date. They had met by chance and in a moment of madness he'd invited her out for dinner. He had not known then if she was married but had discovered later that she was, with two grown-up sons who had moved out and a marriage that was failing.
    At their next meeting she admitted that she had intended to use Erlendur to get even with her husband.
    Valgerdur contacted Erlendur again soon afterwards and they had met several times since. Once she had gone back to his flat. He'd tried to tidy up as best he could, throwing away old newspapers, arranging books on the shelves. He rarely had visitors and was reluctant to let Valgerdur call on him. She insisted, saying that she wanted to see how he lived. Eva Lind had called his apartment a hole that he crawled into to hide.
    'Look at all those books,' Valgerdur said, standing in his living room. 'Have you read them all?'
    'Most of them,' Erlendur said. 'Do you want some coffee? I bought some Danish pastries.'
    She went over to the bookcase and ran her finger along the spines, browsed through a few titles and took one book off the shelf.
    'Are these about ordeals and dangerous highland voyages?' she asked.
    She had been quick to notice that Erlendur took a particular interest in missing persons and that he read whole series of accounts of people who had got lost and disappeared in the wilds of Iceland. He had told her what he had told no one else apart from Eva Lind, that his brother had died at the age of eight up in the highlands in eastern Iceland at the beginning of winter, when Erlendur was ten. There were three of them, the two boys and their father. Erlendur and his father found their way home safely, but his brother froze to death and his body was never found.
    'You told me once that there was an account of you and your brother in one of these books,' Valgerdur said.
    'Yes,' Erlendur said.
    'Would you mind showing it to me?'
    'I will,' Erlendur said, hesitantly. 'Later. Not now. I'll show you it later.'
     
    Valgerdur stood up when he entered the restaurant and they greeted each other with their customary handshake. Erlendur was unsure what kind of a relationship this was but he liked it. Even after meeting regularly for almost half a year they had not slept together. At least their relationship was not a sexual one. They sat and talked about various aspects of their lives.
    'Why haven't you left him?' he asked when they had eaten and drunk coffee and liqueur and talked about Eva Lind and Sindri and her sons and work. She repeatedly asked him about the skeleton in Kleifarvatn but there was little that he could tell her. Only that the police were talking to people whose loved ones had gone missing during a specific period around 1970.
    Just before Christmas, Valgerdur had found out that her husband had been having an affair for the past two years. She already knew about an earlier incident which was not as 'serious', as he put it. She told him that she was going to leave him. He broke off the affair at once and nothing had happened since then.
    'Valgerdur . . . ?' Erlendur began.
    'You saw Eva Lind at her rehab, then,' she said hurriedly, as if sensing what would come next.
    'Yes, I saw her.'
    'Did she remember anything about being arrested?'
    'No, I don't think she remembers being arrested. We didn't discuss it.'
    'Poor girl.'
    'Are you going to carry on with him?' Erlendur asked.
    Valgerdur sipped her liqueur.
    'It's so difficult,' she said.
    'Is it?'
    'I'm not prepared to put an end to it,' she said, looking into Erlendur's eyes. 'But I don't want to let go of you, either.'
     
    When Erlendur went home that evening, Sindri Snaer was lying on the sofa, smoking and watching

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