The Absolution Read online

  Contents

  Also by Yrsa Sigurdardóttir

  About the Author

  About the Translator

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Pronunciation guide for character names

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Also by Yrsa Sigurdardóttir

  The Thóra Gudmundsdóttir novels

  Last Rituals

  My Soul to Take

  Ashes to Dust

  The Day is Dark

  Someone to Watch Over Me

  The Silence of the Sea

  Standalones

  I Remember You

  The Undesired

  Why Did You Lie?

  The Freyja and Huldar Series

  The Legacy

  The Reckoning

  The Absolution

  About the Author

  Yrsa Sigurdardóttir works as a civil engineer in Reykjavík. She made her crime fiction debut in 2005 with Last Rituals, the first instalment in the Thóra Gudmundsdóttir series, and has been translated into more than 30 languages. The Silence of the Sea won the Petrona Award in 2015. The Absolution is her twelfth adult novel and the third in the Freyja and Huldar Series.

  About the Translator

  Victoria Cribb studied and worked in Iceland for many years. She has translated more than twenty-five Icelandic authors including Arnaldur Indriðason, Ragnar Jónasson and Sjón. In 2017 she received the Orðstír honorary translation award for her services to Icelandic literature.

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  First published with the title Aflausn in 2016 by Veröld Publishing, Reykjavík

  Published by arrangement with the Salomonsson Agency

  Copyright © Yrsa Sigurdardóttir 2016

  English translation © Victoria Cribb 2019

  The right of Yrsa Sigurdardóttir to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  eBook ISBN 978 1 473 62162 6

  Hardback ISBN 978 1 473 62160 2

  Trade Paperback ISBN 978 1 473 62161 9

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

  Pronunciation guide for character names

  Huldar – HOOL-dar

  Freyja – FRAY-a

  Gudlaugur − GVOOTH-lohgur

  Erla – ED-la

  Stella – STELL-la

  Adalheidur – ATH-al-HAY-thoor

  Haukur – HOH-koor

  Saga (as in English)

  Baldur – BAL-door

  Fanney – FANN-ay

  Helgi – HELL-ghee

  Ævar – EYE-varr

  Davíd – DAH-veeth

  Ásta – OW-sta

  Thórey – THOHR-ay

  Ósk – Ohsk

  Sól – Sohl

  Kjartan – KYAR-tan

  Bogi – BAW-yee

  Mördur – MUR-thoor

  Jóel – YOH-el

  Egill – AY-idl

  Ásdís – OWSS-dees

  Thorgeir – THOR-gayrr

  Bjarney – BYAD-nay

  Arnar – AHD-narr

  Laufhildur – LOHV-hild-oor

  Chapter 1

  The women’s toilets on the lower ground floor were deserted. The sinks were dry and the doors of the empty cubicles stood open a crack. The place was in the sort of state you’d expect after all the queues earlier that evening. Bins overflowing with used paper towels. Empty Coke cups littering every surface. The contents of a large box of popcorn strewn over the floor and trampled by the women hopping desperately from one foot to the other in the queue.

  Stella assumed the same chaos must reign in the gents and felt thankful that it wasn’t her job to clean them. The mess was unusually bad as two films had sold out and the others had attracted pretty big audiences as well. There had been such a crush at the kiosk in the foyer before the films began and during the intervals that the popcorn machine hadn’t been able to keep up, even though they’d made loads in advance, and the Diet Coke had run out, much to the disgust of the customers. Stella had had to bite her lip to stop herself answering back when they blamed her. Like it was her job to buy the stuff in or keep track of stocks!

  She paused in the doorway, suddenly conscious of being alone down there, the only person in the entire building.

  The silence was absolute. No muffled booming from the auditoriums, no chattering voices of the girls she worked with. She had offered to close up as usual so they could catch their bus, and stood watching through the glass wall of the foyer as they vanished into the snowstorm. No sooner had their shapes receded into the thick veil of white than she’d begun to regret her generous offer. Not that her motives had been purely unselfish. In reality, she hadn’t been able to resist showing off that she’d got a boyfriend – a boyfriend with a car. No messing about on buses for her.

  For some reason her thoughts suddenly returned to the Snap she’d received just after the last interval. She hadn’t a clue who the sender was – it wasn’t anyone she’d added. Of course she should have changed her settings ages ago and blocked strangers from messaging her, especially now that old people had started using the app. Not content with ruining Facebook, they were taking over Snapchat as well. She bet it was some old bag, maybe one of her mum’s friends or a relative she’d forgotten about. The username didn’t ring any bells: Just13. Maybe it wasn’t some old person after all; maybe it was a kid who’d just turned thirteen. That would explain the weird message.

  The Snap had been a photo of her, in the act of serving popcorn to a customer. It wasn’t a flattering picture: she was making a face and her body, the little that could be seen of it, was caught at a stupid angle. No pose, no smile. The caption had been as puzzling as the Snap itself. All it said was: See you. Whoever the sender was, they’d obviously been at the cinema but hadn’t come over to say hello. Maybe it was some s
hy little boy who didn’t have the guts to talk to her. Well, it was lucky for him because she’d have told him where to go. She had zero interest in meeting creeps and only a creep would send a Snap like that uninvited.

  The door swung to behind Stella. The hydraulics were broken, so it closed slowly at first, before suddenly gathering speed and slamming shut with a loud bang. The noise reverberated around the tiled space, echoing in her head, drawing attention to the silence. She’d been feeling a bit uneasy upstairs but it was a lot worse down here on the lower level. At least in the foyer you could see out of the windows, or as far as the thickly falling snow would allow. It must have been the weather that had driven people to the cinema in hordes. Stella had seen all the films that were showing so she knew they sucked. Still, while you were watching them you could forget the Arctic conditions outside.

  Now, though, the snow seemed infinitely preferable to the deserted cinema. Stella couldn’t wait to be safe in Höddi’s car. So what if it was a wreck and the heater was broken? It was still better than the bus. A bit like Höddi. He wasn’t exactly a fairytale prince but being with him was better than being single. He’d do for now, while she was looking around for someone better. Someone fit, with a car that was cool enough to turn her friends green with envy. That’s the kind of boyfriend she wanted. Not someone like Höddi who always had to be out of focus in the pictures she posted on social media.

  Stella chose the furthest cubicle and hurriedly shot the bolt. Opposite the cubicles was a row of sinks with a huge mirror running the length of the wall. She didn’t particularly want to see herself right now: tired, looking like shit, in need of a haircut, highlights and an eyebrow pluck. The roots showed dark along her parting, like the go-faster stripe on the bonnet of Höddi’s car. Gross. Before coming downstairs she had paused by the cardboard cut-out of a ghost advertising the horror film being shown in screen one. She’d meant to send her friends a Snap of her standing beside it, but changed her mind because she didn’t want them to see how crap she looked. It was kind of creepy standing beside the grisly display, too, though she knew it was nothing but a huge piece of cardboard. She’d take the pic another time when she was looking hot and there were other people around. Her pay had better arrive on time because she’d made an appointment for the moment the salon opened on the first of the month. Shame it was so fucking expensive to keep your hair looking good.

  Stella pulled down her knickers and peed, crouching above the seat. God knows what germs the cinemagoers might have left behind on it. There was no way she was going to be one of those sluts who catch an STD. You never lived that kind of thing down.

  Over the tinkle of urine she heard the door of the toilets open. The skin prickled on her naked thighs and her throat constricted with fear. Who the hell could it be? Had one of the girls come back? If so, how did she get in? Had they forgotten to lock the door behind them? Her thoughts flew to the Snap again. Surely it couldn’t be Just13?

  A loud bang indicated that the door had closed again. Stella held her breath, straining to hear if the person had come in. Maybe it was just the security guard, arrived early, checking all areas. But no such luck. The creaking of shoes warned her that she wasn’t alone.

  Her trickle had dwindled to a few drops that fell in time to the footsteps. It must be a woman. Had to be a woman. What would a man be doing in the ladies’ loos in an empty cinema at this time of night? It wasn’t like the gents was full. Stella bit back the impulse to call out and ask who it was. Reaching for the loo paper, she tore a few sheets off the roll as quietly as she could, dried herself, then stood up, pulling up her trousers. She felt a little better, or at least not quite as exposed. But this feeling soon evaporated.

  Two shoes appeared beneath the cubicle door. They looked like boots, broad enough to belong to a man. Stella clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. Why was he standing there? The feet didn’t move; their owner just stood there as if it was a front door and he was thinking of ringing the bell. Which wasn’t far off the mark because next minute there was a loud banging on the door. She stared helplessly at its blank surface as if it could show her what was going on.

  Just then her phone buzzed and she took it from her pocket with a trembling hand, nearly dropping it when she saw that she’d got another Snap from Just13. Before she could stop herself, she had touched the screen and opened the message. She bit back a scream when the picture appeared: it showed a closed door like the one to her cubicle. It had to be the same door, the only thing now separating her from the sender. There was no caption.

  More loud banging. Stella recoiled, backing so hard into the toilet bowl that her knees buckled. ‘Who’s that?’ No answer. She’d blurted out the words before she could stop herself. Her voice sounded feeble, pathetic, unlike her. Stella was used to being the leader of the pack. Strong. Determined. Showing no mercy to wimps who sounded like she did now.

  This time the banging was so hard that the door shook. Stella’s eyes dropped to the flimsy bolt and she saw at once that it would offer little protection. Her head was spinning as she glanced round frantically for something, anything to save her. The toilet roll and holder. A plastic bin with a lid. The wall-mounted toilet that she might be able to swing at the man’s head if he forced his way in. Except she’d never be able to wrench it off the wall. Then she remembered the phone she was clutching in her sweaty hand. Should she ring the emergency services? Or Höddi? If he was already on his way, surely he’d be nearer than the cops?

  She was spared the decision. The man hurled himself at the cubicle door, the lock broke and the door slammed into Stella’s head, knocking her backwards to sprawl, dazed, on the toilet seat. Fighting off nausea, she forced herself to look up into her assailant’s face. At first she thought it was hidden in shadow, it was so black. It took her a moment to work out that she was looking at a shiny Darth Vader mask under the dark hood of his anorak. Eyes were watching her through the almond-shaped holes but she couldn’t read their expression. A gloved hand reached out and snatched her phone. As the man started fiddling with it, Stella prayed he was a thief. He was welcome to her phone. To the contents of her pockets. To all her pay at the end of the month. Her bag. Anything. So long as he left without laying a finger on her.

  ‘Well, well.’ The man’s voice was strange, not unlike Darth Vader’s. Rasping, as if his throat was lined with sandpaper. The mask must have come with a cheap voice-changer. He aimed the phone at her as if to snap her sitting on the loo. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. What was he doing? Why would a thief want a video or photo of the phone’s owner? ‘Now, I want you to give it all you’ve got.’

  ‘What?’ Stella slid back on the toilet seat until her spine was pressed against the wall and the feel of the hard, icy surface through her thin jumper only made her shivering worse.

  ‘Say you’re sorry.’

  She didn’t even try to resist but did her best to apologise, in spite of the sob that forced its way up her throat.

  ‘Aw. That wasn’t good enough. Not convincing at all. You can do better than that.’

  She tried. And tried. Repeated the word ‘Sorry’ until it began to ring oddly in her ears, as if it wasn’t a real word. But nothing seemed to satisfy the man.

  And for that she would have to pay the price.

  Chapter 2

  ‘We need a bigger screen.’ Finally one of the officers in the incident room blurted out what everyone else was thinking. Ever since the playback had started, the group had been edging their chairs closer to the wall where the footage from the cinema’s CCTV cameras was being shown on a ridiculously small screen.

  Erla, who was perched on the table closest to it, glanced round irritably. ‘Try to concentrate. The quality’s so shit that a bigger screen wouldn’t help. But if it bothers you that much, you can put a request in the suggestion box.’

  The man was silent and Huldar knew why: Erla rarely took it kindly if one of her team answered back. She was an OK boss in many ways
but not too hot at the human relations side of things. He didn’t for a minute believe that the wish for a decent screen in the incident room would find its way into the suggestion box; they’d all learnt the hard way that it was nothing but a graveyard for complaints.

  ‘Look. Here it comes.’ Erla had turned back to the footage. ‘There. Watch the cardboard cut-out of the ghost or whatever the hell it is.’

  All eyes were glued to the corner of the screen dominated by the advertising display. The girl had walked past it a short time before, pausing to pull faces while she fiddled with her phone, took a few selfies, then continued out of the frame. According to Erla, that was the last time she appeared upright on any of the recordings. There were no security cameras on the lower level where the toilets were, or by the stairs that led down to them. Judging by the time display on the recording, and on the video clips sent from the girl’s phone, she must have headed down to the ladies at this point.

  A shadowy figure suddenly materialised from behind the cardboard cut-out and everyone rocked forwards simultaneously to get a better view. It had to be the perpetrator. The quality was fuzzy, as Erla had pointed out, but once the entire figure was visible they realised that this was irrelevant; it would be impossible to identify him even if the picture had been in HD. He was wearing a bulky, dark anorak with the hood pulled up, and a Darth Vader mask. Apart from that, he had on dark-coloured trousers tucked into black boots, and dark gloves. The man vanished out of the frame in the same direction as Stella.

  ‘And there we have it. He hid behind that stupid advert and lay in wait for the girl.’ Erla paused the recording. They were left staring at the frozen image of the cardboard ghost and the empty foyer. ‘We need to go over all the recordings from when the cinema opened, to try and work out what time he arrived. At least we can be pretty damn sure he wasn’t wearing the mask when he turned up.’ Erla rose and faced them. ‘It’s not going to be easy. According to the cinema, they sold just over sixteen hundred tickets yesterday. They opened at two, like every Sunday, and there’s no knowing when the man entered the building. He could have turned up for the first screening and hidden until after closing time, and not necessarily behind that cut-out. Someone needs to study the recordings to establish a time frame.’