The fourth book in the Thóra Gudmundsdóttir series, 2011

Translated from the Icelandic by Philip Roughton

Many people assisted in the writing of this book, but special thanks go to Jenný Einarsdóttir of Ístak, Jóhann Kröyer and Arnbjörg Jóhannsdóttir, and Arvid Thastum, a resident of Kulusuk.

It should be mentioned that although some of the characters in the book have the same names as some of my friends and family members, their names are the only thing they have in common.

– Yrsa

Oddný Hildur looked away from the computer screen, took the headphones from her ears and listened. The wind moaned outside; the wooden walls creaked in the strongest gusts, but otherwise she couldn’t hear anything. Strange. She’d had the feeling that there was someone else in the building. She relaxed her shoulders slightly and looked at the clock. A few minutes to midnight. Was it really so late? It was highly unlikely that anyone had come over; most of the others were either asleep or well on their way to dreamland. It must have been her imagination. Who could be up and about so late? Oddný Hildur sighed. She had been working non-stop since coming over to her office after supper. The weather had done a complete about-face, the beautiful, ice-cold calm turning into a noisy gale that whipped up the snow from the morning. The changeable weather here no longer surprised her, although she would never get used to it. Now she regretted not having followed the safety regulations and given notice of her plans; she had avoided doing so out of fear that someone would want to join her. Arnar had talked about doing some more work, but luckily he hadn’t shown up. She had very much wanted to be alone with the work she’d been putting off, work that now really needed to be done. There was never any peace and quiet when the others were there too, especially in the evenings after a long day at work.