Punishment Read Online Free Page B

Solveig Grimsrud. ‘Only a few years ago we thought that the sexual abuse of children didn’t concern us. It was something that only happened out there, in the USA, far away. We have let our children walk on their own to school, go on camping trips without adult supervision, be away from home for hours on end without making sure that they’re being supervised. It cannot continue. It’s time that we . . .’
    â€˜It’s time that I left.’
    Johanne didn’t realise that she had stood up. She stared straight into the camera, an electronic cyclops that stared back with an empty grey eye and made her freeze. Her microphone was still attached to her jacket.
    â€˜This is ridiculous. Somewhere out there . . .’
    She pointed her finger at the camera and held it there.
    â€˜. . . is a widower whose daughter disappeared a week ago. There is a couple whose son was abducted, snatched from them in the middle of the night. And you are sitting here . . .’
    She moved her hand to point at Solveig Grimsrud; it was shaking.
    â€˜. . . telling them that the worst thing imaginable has happened. You have absolutely no grounds, and I repeat, no grounds for saying that. It is thoughtless, malicious . . . Irresponsible. As I said, I only know what I have seen in the media, but I hope . . . In fact I am certain that the police are still keeping all options open, unlike you. Off the top of my head, I can think of six or seven different explanations for the abductions, and each is as good or bad as the next. And they are at least based on stronger arguments than your speculative scenario. It’s only twenty-four hours since littleKim disappeared. Twenty-four hours! Words fail me . . .’
    And she meant it literally. Suddenly she was quiet. Then she pulled the microphone from her jacket and disappeared. The camera followed her as she made for the studio door, with heavy, unfamiliar movements.
    â€˜Well,’ said the presenter; there was sweat on his upper lip and he was breathing through his mouth. ‘That was quite something.’
    *
    Somewhere else in Oslo, two men were sitting watching TV. The older one smiled slightly and the younger one thumped the wall with his fist.
    â€˜Shit, you can say that again. Do you know that woman? Have you heard of her?’
    The older man, Detective Inspector Adam Stubo, from the NCIS, nodded thoughtfully.
    â€˜I read the thesis she mentioned. Interesting, actually. She’s now looking at the media’s coverage of serious crimes. As far as I can understand from the article I read, she’s comparing the fate of a number of convicted criminals who got a lot of press attention, with those who didn’t. They all pleaded innocent. She’s gone way back, to the fifties I think. Don’t know why.’
    Sigmund Berli laughed.
    â€˜Well, she’s certainly got balls. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone just get up and leave. Good for her. Especially as she was right!’
    Adam Stubo lit a huge cigar, which signalled that he now considered the working day to be over.
    â€˜She is so right that it might be interesting to talk to her,’ he said, grabbing his jacket. ‘See you tomorrow.’

VIII
    A child doesn’t know when it’s going to die. It has no concept of death. Instinctively it fights for life, like a lizard that’s willing to give up its tail when threatened with extermination. All beings are genetically programmed to fight for survival. Children as well. But they have no concept of death. A child is frightened of real things. The dark. Strangers, perhaps, being separated from their family, pain, scary noises and the loss of objects. Death, on the other hand, is incomprehensible for a mind that is not yet mature.
    A child does not know that it is going to die.
    That is what the man was thinking as he got everything ready. He poured some Coke into an ordinary glass and wondered why he was bothering with