Page 289 of These Tears

Sindre stares at Conall. ‘Explain.’

‘What measures? Is he under UKPPS then – yes or no?’ I rush in with narrowed eyes.

The man leans back, scrubbing a hand over his face before he drops it again. ‘The timber business itself is legitimate, but Cromwell used its freight network as cover. Narcotics and untaxed alcohol travelled inside declared timber shipments. False invoices inflated transport costs, shell companies collected the difference and the proceeds returned as payments…’ He pauses and his face goes a shade paler as if it physically hurts him to say it aloud, ‘against invented company debts.’

He taps a file beneath his nose. ‘We’re dealing with a double-murder investigation. Fraud, money laundering…’

The room tilts around that.

‘Fancy words, bad people, worse situation,’ Sindre cuts in. ‘What does that have to do with Jak—Elias? He was behind bars first, out of the country later.’

‘Arthur dragged him and his brother along on every business matter since they were small. Besides being the company’s only surviving heir, Elias is one of the few living people who can connect records to actual names, properties and transactions,’ Conall starts. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but that crease on his forehead is getting deeper the longer we sit here. ‘Cromwell needs him discredited – or charged with murder – before anyone treats his testimony as credible.’

Sindre slants a glance towards me, and I know he has reached the same conclusion I have: if Elias is remanded to prison, Cromwell gets another chance to reach him. Even do worse.

‘The news reports,’ I murmur, remembering the night before my departure when everyone’s mugshots found their way to my television screen. ‘Isak and Melody?’

I meet Conall’s flat stare that barely hides his exasperation.

‘The news and the papers are the visible part. Tip of the iceberg,’ Conall replies. ‘Cromwell has spent months building the rest. Years. That’s what we should concern ourselves with.’

Henrik unfurls from his place at the door and approaches Inga’s chair. He leans over it, bracing against the backrest. ‘He’s already been here a couple of days.’

‘Yes,’ Conall replies. ‘Besides the obvious, threats have already been made, and someone has already tried to get access to him—’ His hand snaps up in a calming gesture as Inga and I jolt in our seats. He lets it breathe for two frantic seconds as I fight to keep my heart where it is.

His face hardens. ‘He is a valuable witness, but that makes him dangerous to them. Luckily the incident allowed me to harden security around him.’

My knuckles crack loud enough for heads to turn towards me when Conall continues. ‘Cromwell does not need to control an entire investigation – just one officer on his payroll to delay the requests. One witness to remember something differently. One contact to insist that every contradiction requires further examination.’

‘Fucking procedure,’ Sindre mutters.

‘Weaponised procedure,’ Conall corrects.

‘What about me? I was attacked by Cromwell’s men, too,’ I say quickly before I start screaming. ‘I saw their faces.’

Conall exhales as he meets my eyes. He lets the proclamation settle for several heartbeats because it’s the first time I’ve said it aloud.

‘Police have two suspects,’ he says, without probing further into the episode. ‘It would be good if they got a full statement from you about what happened and what you remember of that day. After that, they can arrange a formal identification procedure.’

My stomach flips so fast I nearly reach for the table.

The grey car. Rain. Hands. Panic. Conall’s voice on the phone.

The sound of the envelope falling through the postbox.

‘It might link Cromwell’s operation to an attempt to intimidate or abduct a civilian witness,’ Inga says, but her focus remains on the tips of her trainers.

I incline my head briefly as Sindre and I exchange charged glances.

‘It might be useful to say that Elias believed Cromwell was coming after me and that’s why we left,’ I say. ‘I’ll do it.’

Some of the tension leaves Conall’s shoulders. ‘Good. I’ll arrange for your statement to be taken immediately.’

He reaches for his phone.

‘You still haven’t answered me,’ I say a little louder.

His hand stops above the receiver.