Never End Read Free Page B

something.”
    She gave a shudder, cleared her throat, then shuddered again. Djanali looked at Halders, who nodded.
    “Just one last question, Jeanette. Did he say anything?”
    “I don’t remember much. I fainted. I think he said . . . something.”
    “What did he say?”
    “I didn’t hear what it was.”
    “But you could hear words?”
    “Yes . . .”
    “You didn’t hear what language?”
    “It wasn’t like a language.”
    “What do you mean? Not like a language?”
    “It was . . . just sounds . . . didn’t mean anything. It was just something he . . . something I couldn’t understand.”
    Djanali nodded, waited. Jeanette looked at her.
    “He did it three times, or whatever. Repeated it. Or maybe it was just once. Just when he was . . . when he . . .”
    The gulls were laughing outside the window again: they’d come back from the sea. A car engine started. A child shouted again. Jeanette rubbed hard at her hair with the towel. It was hot and stuffy in the room.
    Djanali knew Jeanette had said all she was capable of saying just now, and that it was high time they got her to the hospital.
    She could see Halders getting to his feet. It had all gone as usual. Rape. Report. First interview. Request for legal documentation. Car to the women’s clinic.
    This was real. Not just imagination.
     
     
    Jeanette Bielke was being taken to the clinic: Aneta Djanali and Fredrik Halders drove to the park where it had happened.
    “What do you think about the description?”
    Halders shrugged.
    “Big. Strong. Dark coat. No special smell. Armed with some kind of noose. Made strange sounds. Or said something incomprehensible.”
    “Could be any man on the street,” Halders said.
    “Do you think she’s reliable?”
    “Yes.”
    “I would have liked to ask her more.”
    “You got what information you could, for now.”
    Djanali looked out at the summer. People weren’t wearing much. Their faces were beaming, trying to outdo the sun. The sky was blue and cloudless. Everything was ice cream and lightweight clothing and an easy life. There was no headwind.
    “Let’s hope it isn’t the beginning of something,” said Halders, looking at her. “You know what I mean.”
    “Don’t say it.”
    Halders thought about what Jeanette had said regarding the man’s appearance, insofar as she could see anything. The rapist. They’d have to wait for the tests, but he was sure they were dealing with rape.
    They could never be sure about appearances. Getting a description was the hardest thing. Never put your trust in a description, he’d said to anybody who cared to listen. None of it is necessarily related to the facts. The same person could vary between five foot ten and six foot three in a witness’s eyes and memory. Everything could vary.
    Last year they’d had a madman running round and knocking people down from behind, no obvious pattern, just that he knocked them down and stole their money. But he did have a habit of introducing himself from the side, that was the nearest to a pattern: some greeting or other to get his victim’s attention, then wham.
    The victims all agreed on one thing: he’d reminded them of the hunch-back of Notre Dame—stocky, hunchbacked, bald, dragged one foot . . .
    When they eventually caught up with him, in the act, he turned out to be six foot two with thick, curly hair, and he could have landed the job of Mr. Handsome in any soap opera you care to name.
    It all depended on so much. What they saw. How dark it was. Where the light came from. Fear and terror. Most of all the terror.
    He turned into the park and stopped the car. The uniforms weren’t there any more. The scene was roped off; two forensics officers were crawling on the ground. There was a bunch of kids hanging round the far barrier, whispering and watching. Some adults came past and stopped, then walked on.
    “Found anything?” Halders shouted. The scene-of-crime boys looked up, then down again, without answering. Halders