The Killing Forest by Sara Blædel Read Free Book Online Page A

use to photograph birds are in a clearing farther in the forest, much higher up than the camera that caught the fox cubs.”
    He pointed around at the different types of trees and chattered about them as they worked their way around the forest.
    “Can you tell us when the photo was taken?” Eik asked as they stopped.
    The photographer pulled a folded-up sheet of paper out of his pocket. “I can tell you that it was taken on June eleventh at precisely six forty-seven a.m. The time is registered automatically when a photo is taken.”
    Eight days ago, Louise thought. “Did you find him in any of the other photos?”
    The photographer nodded. “Five. I’ve written it all down for you.”
    He handed her the paper. “The first time he showed up was a week before the photo used in the paper. June sixth. But you have to look closely to see him. Let’s go down here.”
    He walked onto a path hidden behind the exposed roots of a fallen tree. “The camera is right over there.”
    Louise approached the metal box screwed onto a tree stump. The hole for the camera lens was on the other side.
    “It’s focused on the fox den over there,” the photographer explained, pointing to a thick tree trunk on a slope, its open roots just above the den’s entrance. Eik headed for the small hole while the photographer checked the lock on the box holding the digital camera.
    “The fox cubs were born in March, so they’re three months old now,” he continued. But Louise wasn’t listening. Eik waved her over, and before she got there she spied the remains of a small campfire.
    “Do you want to look through my photos?” the photographer called after her; she thanked him when he offered to mail them to her.
    “And thank you very much for helping us on such short notice,” she said. She gave him her card so he could call if he happened to see the boy again.
    “What is it about this boy?” he asked. “Did he do something stupid?”
    She smiled and shook her head, impressed that he had waited so long to ask. “We just want to find out why he’s staying here in the forest and not at home with his parents.”
    “He’s been here, no doubt about that, but not recently,” Eik said as he squatted down beside the fire. “Him, or at least somebody.”
    The fire had been extinguished before burning out. A small pile of limbs lay beside it, along with an old can. Eik sniffed it.
    “I think he was making soup out of stinging nettles,” he said. He dropped the can back onto the ground. “But he didn’t finish.”
    “Maybe he slept over here,” Louise said, from the other side of the tree. The trunk was split, and when she leaned in close she saw that part of the tree was hollow. The hole wasn’t big, but a boy could curl up and lie in it.
    She got down on her knees and crawled halfway in, groping around on the ground. She found a few small limbs for the fire, but when her fingers touched something soft, she pulled her hand back and banged her head above the opening.
    “There’s something in there,” she said when she backed out.
    Eik pushed her aside and squeezed into the hollow space while flicking his lighter. He came out carrying a dark-blue sweatshirt, which he unfolded on the ground. Inside was a small pocketknife, a lighter, and a set of keys.
    “It’s cold and damp from the ground,” he said. “But we can’t know how long it’s been here. Possibly only one night. It’s not much use to us.”
    He studied the knife. “It’s his,” he said, handing it over to her. “His name is engraved on it.”
    He sat on the ground and studied the small, primitive camp.
    “Let’s take these things back with us,” Louise said. She began packing it all in the sweatshirt.
    “No, wait,” he said. “If he still lives here, he’ll need his knife and the warm sweatshirt. There’s no reason to make things harder for him.”
    Louise brought out her phone and took a picture of the engraved name on the knife. Then she rolled up the old