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isn’t so bad and all the sea air has to be good for Stefnir.’
    Ari Thór sighed. Why was she always so contrary, first hating the idea of Siglufjördur and now loving it?
    She had actually been unusually distant recently, and he couldn’t understand quite why. It could hardly be baby blues; this coolness was something new and the boy was almost a year old now.

     
    Ari Thór’s mobile woke him. Kristín had already taken Stefnir downstairs, and the incessant ringing broke through the fragile tranquillity. He stretched for his phone with his eyes still closed. It was in its place on the nightstand, switched on day and night, whether he wason duty or not. There was no choice at a short-staffed police station in such a small community.
    It would probably be Herjólfur calling to find out if he was well enough to return to work. Although Herjólfur wasn’t a great talker, Ari Thór knew that he and his wife Helena were planning a trip south to Reykjavík. Herjólfur had once told him that they didn’t really enjoy spending time outdoors and had never even been skiing, in spite of the excellent ski slopes just outside the town. This trip south, a trip to the theatre, Herjólfur had said, was important, and Ari Thór knew that he was expected to have shaken off the flu so they could go.
    He answered without bothering to look at the screen and was startled to hear a female voice. This wasn’t Herjólfur.
    ‘Hello? Ari Thór?’ There was a tremor in the voice that he didn’t recognise. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you up.’
    There was a moment’s silence.
    ‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Who is this?’
    ‘It’s Helena. Herjólfur’s wife.’
    Ari Thór sat up. He saw that it was almost six o’clock; he would have liked a little longer in bed.
    ‘Hello,’ he repeated, taken by surprise.
    ‘I’m…’ She hesitated. ‘I’m looking for Herjólfur.’
    ‘Looking for him?’
    ‘He didn’t come home after he went out last night. That’s all I know. I was half-asleep. But he’s not back and I couldn’t get a reply when I called his phone.’
    ‘He’s not down at the station?’ Ari Thór asked. ‘I suppose he expected to be relieving me again today. I’ve had this miserable flu.’
    ‘I called the station as well,’ Helena said. ‘No answer there.’
    This was a strange situation.
    ‘I’ll try calling him and if I don’t get an answer I’ll take a look around the town and see if I can see the patrol car anywhere.’
    ‘You haven’t heard from him?’ Helena asked, even though the answer was obvious.
    ‘I’m afraid not. Leave it with me and I’ll be in touch,’ Ari said decisively, and ended the call. Punching in the number for Herjólfur’s phone, he heard it ring without reply. It was tough having to be up and about in his condition, but there was no longer any choice in the matter.
    Deciding against wearing his uniform, Ari Thór pulled on the clothes that he’d hung at the end of his bed, and made his way downstairs. Kristín was feeding Stefnir porridge, or doing her best anyway, as most of the food seemed to be on his face.
    ‘I have to go out, and I’ll need to borrow the car.’
    There was only one car, Kristín’s, which was used only for commuting between Siglufjördur and Akureyri.
    ‘Go out?’ she asked with a look of surprise. ‘You’re ill, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but Herjólfur has…’ Ari Thór wasn’t quite sure how to put it into words. ‘He seems to have disappeared,’ he said finally.
    ‘Disappeared?’ Kristín smiled. Ari Thór realised that it sounded incongruous for him to be leaving his sick bed to search for a grown man. ‘You’re telling me you’ve lost a whole policeman?’
    The little boy gave him a smile. Everyone but Ari Thór seemed to be finding this amusing.
    ‘I won’t be long, sweetheart.’

     
    Night was just turning into day in the little town.
    Ari Thór drove to the police station to make sure that Herjólfur wasn’t there, even checking