Why Did You Lie? Read Online Free PDF Page B

final page of a report about a case that had presumably been described in the previous pages since it was impossible to work out the circumstances from the paragraph in front of her. The date was in the top right-hand corner: 18 April 1985. Nína turned back to see how it began, only to discover that the previous pages were missing. It was preceded by a completely unrelated report, which was complete and stapled together. The single page showed evidence of having once been attached to others; the small, triangular scrap of paper left under the staple suggested that the previous pages had been torn away carelessly. She leafed through the file but couldn’t find the first part of the report anywhere. Turning back to the paragraph that had shaken her so badly, she stared at the black typewritten letters as if she expected them to have changed. But they hadn’t. It was the same concluding paragraph stating that Milla Gautadóttir had signed on behalf of her underage son to witness that his statement was true and correct. This was followed by a brief note confirming that the taking of the statement had been concluded at 10.39 a.m. The name of the son was printed under the mother’s name: Thröstur Magnason, born 1 March 1978. Her husband.
    Nína closed the file and clutched it to her chest. There was no question that it was her Thröstur. His mother’s name was uncommon and it was impossible that she could have had a namesake with a son of exactly the same name and age, and a husband called Magni to boot. Impossible. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe calmly. Someone must have left the folder out so she would find it. Someone who wanted to hurt her. Her friends – if she had any left on the force – would never have done such a thing. To slip a report dating from her husband’s childhood into a file on suicides … Nína squeezed her eyes tighter shut and streaks of light, ghosts of the former brightness, danced before her. She didn’t want to see anything, didn’t want to think at all. If she let herself, she would start tuning into the noises she thought she could hear at the back of the storeroom, from the shelves she hadn’t yet examined. As if someone was standing there, breathing heavily. Perhaps the person who had left the folder out was still down there. She could only assume that sound would carry as poorly out of the basement as it did into it. If she screamed, it was unlikely anyone would hear her. Except the person hiding behind her, among the dusty old archives.

Chapter 3
    23 January 2014
    The weather seemed unable to make up its mind whether to rain, sleet or snow, and the Reykjanes highway gleamed blackly in the glow of the headlights that could do little to penetrate the spray. The family members were using the drive home from the airport to ruminate on their holiday. They sat in silence, Nói behind the wheel, Vala beside him and their teenage son Tumi in the back, staring out at the endless lava-field. Two large suitcases had been stowed beside him since the boot didn’t have room for all their baggage. They hadn’t planned to do much shopping but, carried away by the low prices in America, had ended up lugging a mountain of stuff home across the Atlantic. Only time would tell how wise some of these purchases had been. They had got no further than the Leifsstöd terminal before Vala remarked that their new clothes didn’t look quite as smart as they had in the States; somehow they didn’t go with the miserable grey weather. Nói had to bite his lip to stop himself exploding.
    ‘Strange to think we’ve got to go to work tomorrow.’ He focused on the road ahead through the frantically labouring windscreen wipers.
    ‘You were going to go in today, remember? Just be grateful I talked you out of it.’ Vala twisted round. ‘Are you asleep?’
    ‘No.’ Tumi continued to watch the world outside the windows.
    Vala opened her mouth to add something, then turned back. Nói understood her change of