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essential to our investigation,' Skarre explained and realised as soon as he had spoken how insensitive his words sounded.
'I know what it means,' she screamed. 'Jonas will be cut open and all his organs will be removed and replaced with newspaper, so he'll be lying in his coffin stuffed with rubbish and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life. My little boy stuffed full of rubbish!'
She buried her face in her hands. Skarre feared that she was going to have a nervous breakdown.
'The most important thing we can do for him now is find out what happened to him,' he said.
'Can I withhold my consent?' she whispered. 'Can I stop the autopsy?'
'Not in a case like this,' Sejer said. 'The autopsy will provide us with crucial information. Besides,' he added, and he hated having to say it, 'there are other considerations to take into account. Other children might be at risk. Do you understand?'
She nodded.
'Is there someone you would like us to call?' he asked.
'Not until we're sure,' she whispered. 'You might have made a mistake and I don't want to worry my friends unnecessarily. Or my parents, they won't be able to handle it. They're not very well, my father's got a weak heart and my mother's got Parkinson's. They won't be able to cope with this,' she said. 'I don't care what you say, but I choose to believe that you've made a mistake. There are lots of those T-shirts, they sell them everywhere. We'll drive up to Linde Forest, we'll go right now, I have to see him, you can't deny me that, he's my Jonas and I'm in charge!'
She had got up from the sofa and was heading for the hall; her desperation had taken over.
'I'm sorry,' Sejer said firmly, following her. 'I can't allow that.'
She started to scream. She came back into the living room, staggered to an armchair, slumped over it and howled.
'So I'm supposed to just go to bed tonight knowing that he's lying in the forest with no shorts on?' she sobbed. 'I can't believe that you're allowed to do this, I want to talk to someone else!'
'Elfrid,' Skarre said, 'we're on your side!'
She emitted some feeble sobs.
'We have family support officers who can help you,' Sejer said. 'If you want them.'
'No,' she whispered. 'No, I'm going to lie in my bed.'
'If you need a sedative, we can arrange for that.'
'Don't want one.'
She gave them a defiant stare.
'You've probably made a mistake,' she stated. 'There's always a chance.'
She smiled and held her head high. 'There's always a chance.'

CHAPTER 8
People everywhere were talking about Jonas August Løwe.
In the corridors of the Central Hospital, at the hairdresser's, in cabs, on the buses, in cafés and shops. In front rooms and back rooms, in waiting rooms and offices. They talked about Jonas on the stairs and in hallways. Two inmates were sitting on a bench in the exercise yard behind the county jail.
'They're bound to catch him,' one of them said, 'and this is where he'll end up. And when he gets here, we'll know what to do with him.'
'Bloody right, we will,' said the other.
A press conference was held at the station. Sejer had never had much time for the police's duty to inform the general public and he regarded journalists as sharks: one drop of blood and they all came rushing. But as always he behaved impeccably as he briefed the press. Jonas August was a Year Three pupil at Solberg School. He lived with his mother and he was an only child. A couple had observed a man not far from the crime scene, a man approximately fifty years old and wearing a blue anorak. Jonas was partly dressed and he appeared to have been sexually assaulted. As yet it was unclear where and how he had died, whether his death had occurred where he was found or whether he had been killed elsewhere and brought there later. All available manpower would be assigned to the case with immediate effect, and they would also summon any available outside expertise. When asked if the killer might strike again, he looked at them gravely and replied, 'We have no reason to