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CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

February 12, 2019

In the morning, Agnes pulls into the driveway to find Nora packing up her truck. She brings the rental car to a stop and climbs out, her body both stiff and supple, the smell of Lilja’s shampoo wafting through her wet hair.

“Hey,” she says.

Nora doesn’t turn around. She’s sliding her bags in the trunk, one after another, grunting with the effort.

“Where are you going?”

Still no answer.

“Are we good?” Agnes asks, parroting Nora’s favorite question.

This gets her attention. Nora turns in place, color high in her cheeks. “No,” she says, “we’re not good.”

“I didn’t get a return ticket because I didn’t know how I was going to feel,” Agnes says. She’d thought she’d gotten her defense planned, but all the carefully crafted explanations fall out of her head the moment her temper rises. “I didn’t want to make any decisions, until I got here. And then, now, it’s—”

Nora cuts her off. “Do you honestly think I would’ve cared if you had said you didn’t buy a return ticket? I’m not loving the fact that you’ve been lying to me, but I get it. What I’m upset about is you turning off your phone and disappearing for the night. I’ve been worried, Agnes.”

“I didn’t have service,” Agnes says lamely.

“Right,” Nora says. “And you spent the night where? With Lilja? Look, I know we talked about this, but I have to tell you, once and for all: this makes me uncomfortable. There are gray areas with this kind of thing. You said it yourself, I’m not a journalist, not in every respect, but I do try to live by some of the ethics of it, you know. And while you aren’t one—at all—you’re here, with me, under my umbrella. You said you’re entitled to see whoever you want and sure, you’re right about that, but do you ever stop to think about what an insult this is to me? How you’re undermining my work here?”

Agnes digs her hands into her jacket pockets, fisting her cold fingers into her palms. She touches two phones.

Her own.

And ása’s.

What kind of journalist keeps a missing woman’s phone in their bedside drawer?

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Agnes says. “Where are you going?”

“Reykjavík,” Nora says. “To talk to Thor Senior again. I was going to invite you to join me, but you weren’t here and you weren’t answering your phone. The weather is so crazy, I don’t have time to wait for you to get your stuff. I have to leave before they close the roads again.”

Agnes tightens her grip around the two phones. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s lost some intrinsic faith in Nora. But still, she hears herself apologizing. “I didn’t realize you’d be worried about me.”

Nora laughs, but it’s exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you? I care about you.” She tosses her hair back, frowning but relenting. “Do you want to come with me?”

“No,” Agnes says. She’s touched. But no. “I need to get my ticket home.”

There’s not enough time to argue. Nora sighs. “I’ll text you some numbers. Hildur, Ingvar, and Thor Junior. In case you need anything. Hildur’s far away, but she’s reliable.”

Agnes tells Nora she’ll be fine, and she doesn’t wait to watch the other woman leave. Instead, she closes the front door behind her and locks it.