The Drowned Boy Read Free

and sixty-five feet. And that’s nothing for a little lad out exploring.”

2
    HER BODY WOULD not be still and her hands scuttled around on the table looking for something to do.
    “What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice fraught with anxiety. Hmm, Holthemann thought, she’s squeaking like a mouse in a cat’s paw.
    “We don’t think anything at the moment,” he replied. “Like I said, we have certain procedures. We just need to take down a statement and then you can go. Don’t upset yourself about it; it’s something we do whenever there’s a sudden death. There are rules that have to be followed, so relax.”
    “He’d just learned to walk,” she said. “He was playing on his blanket on the floor, then all of a sudden he wasn’t there.”
    “What were you doing?” Holthemann inquired.
    “I was doing the housework. I don’t remember exactly; everything’s so muddled.”
    She paused and a deep furrow ran across her forehead.
    “I think I was preparing food,” she added, having seemingly made up her mind.
    “You were making supper?” Holthemann asked in a friendly voice.
    She thought again, trying to imagine the situation. Her voice was high and childlike, and Holthemann smiled. The smile made his otherwise stern face a little softer.
    “Yes, that’s right. I was cleaning a fish. At least, I think I was. And I’m not very good at it, so it took awhile. Yes, sorry, my head is a bit of a mess, but I remember I was preparing the fish. And Nicolai was down in the cellar repairing a bike, because that’s his hobby. I just don’t understand it,” she wailed. “I don’t understand!” She burst into tears again, and kneaded the tissue in her hand, unable to control herself. She looked terrified, as if she still could not grasp what had happened, had not fully accepted it—that her child was dead and gone forever. The boy she had loved, because she really had, was now no more than a tiny bundle wrapped in a sheet, on its way to the criminal pathology lab to be examined externally and internally.
    “Is there anything I can get you?” the chief superintendent asked. Despite his tough image, he thought it was important to show understanding. “Would you like a drink? Can I get you some water?”
    “I just want Nicolai,” she sobbed.
    The chief leaned forward and patted her on the arm. “You’ll be able to speak to a psychologist soon,” he said. “He’ll help you sort things out in your mind. Because it’s all over the place right now, isn’t it?”
    She started to dry her tears. She was only nineteen years old and she seemed even younger, slender as a reed, with fair, almost white hair. She wore long, dangly earrings and pink nail polish. Her top was far too short and showed her belly, golden-brown after all the sun this summer and adorned with a small, silken pearl in her navel.
    “Tommy’s only sixteen months old,” she cried. “I tried mouth-to-mouth, really I did, but it was too late. His lips were all blue. I don’t know if I did it right either; it looks so easy on TV. And I couldn’t do the heart massage, because I didn’t dare press too hard. I was scared I’d break his bones, because he’s only little. And if I’d broken some of his ribs, they could have punctured his lungs. I kept thinking things like that, because I’ve heard those things happen.”
    “Take it easy now,” Holthemann said. “We’re going to go through everything in detail. The inspector will take statements from you and Nicolai. Then we can draw up the whole incident and make sure we’ve got it right.”
    She put her hands on the table and scrunched the tissue into a damp ball.
    “But I’ve said everything I’ve got to say,” she sobbed. “There’s nothing more to tell. I found him by the jetty.”
    She suddenly looked him straight in the eye and was very determined. “I know that it was my fault. You might as well just say it, I know what you’re thinking. I should have paid more