An official visitor

It was long past midday before Ottar Persson gathered up enough courage and took the drive up to the Walker's house. It was the only part of this job that had gotten worse after moving here.

Ottar had gone through the police-academy and started working in Oslo. But had, after just a few months grown tired of chasing down robbers, ****-dealers, hookers or pimps. So he had applied for a transfer, and had gotten a job here in Stryn. His friends had warned him, that the job would get boring, but Ottar had ignored them, and never regretted it. The job felt a lot more meaningful when everyone you dealt with had a name, not just a file number, and about the most dramatic thing that had happened here in over ten years was busting a bunch of farmers that had started selling moonshine; And one of them had barricaded himself in his house with two shotguns. But when it came to these idiotic car crashes and accidents, it felt a lot worse bringing bad news when it was someone you actually knew.

Ottar parked the blue and white police car right outside, walked up to the door and rang the bell. Covering the old sign, he noticed there was a new one, and this one simply stating: "Home of John Walker".

When the door opened, Ottar wondered if he should ask for an ID. The person standing in the door, did not at all look like the John Walker he knew - Firstly this man was much taller, about 190 cm, built like an athlete with broad shoulders and narrow hips and judging by the way he moved his body was coated with strong and sinewy muscles. His facial-features were masculine, and the skin seemed worn, making him appear much older than John was. But the dark blonde hair was the same, as were the intense green eyes. Ottar had known that John joined the Marine Special Forces - he had been put up as a reference - but had never dreamed that it could have changed him so radically. He had remembered the boy as a medium height, skinny little boy, with green eyes, blonde hair and pretty androgynous features. Ottar couldn't help but ask: "John, is that you?" The smile that spread across his face was also the same. But Ottar never would have guessed him to be only 25; he looked at least five years older. If there had ever been one, this man looked like John's older brother.

• You are happy to see who is at the door - Ottar has been a very good friend of the family for many years. Even though he has gained a lot of weight, it is easy to recognise the policeman by his face and the sound of his voice. Ottar is a fairly short man with stocky build, broad shoulders and hips, and a heavy chest that made him look like a barrel. A solid oak barrel with curly brown hair, brown eyes, and the facial features of a ruined plaster sculpture. By the way he moves and his posture, you realise that a minimum of the weight on his body is fat - Those arms look like they could squeeze the sap out of a tree. You stand aside in the doorway, and Ottar walks past into the living room, scanning the room out of old habit. He looks a bit shocked, but you suspect that that's only natural. You break the silence: "It is good to see you again". A smile slowly spreads across his face, a simple joyous grin. He starts asking questions, polite questions like: ”how have you been, what have you been up to”? And you answer them with equal politeness. Then he gets a serious expression, flipping a brown paper envelope in his fingers.

  “Are you ready for this? It’s about your parents”. Your smile fades, and the two of you take a seat in the living room. “Judging by the food, the blankets, and everything else found in the wreck, Hildegun and Robert had decided to go for a picnic that day. They had also made a stop at the bakery to buy baguettes, and had told Tye that they were going on a picnic. Hildegun had been behind the wheel as they drove up the valley and on the road by Lake Loen they had met a large family camper. Their car had been pushed of the road, and landed in the lake water. Both had drowned, unable to get out of the disfigured wreck. Judging by the skid marks from both cars, the camper had been going way to fast, and the driver had tested positive on blood **** levels. He is being charged with reckless and drunk driving, but probably won’t get any worse than community service and a suspended license. It doesn’t look like there’s anything to do about it – Just another number in the national statistics.” You listen to this story, trying to make the important points stick to the memory. But most of it floats around in your brain making it impossible to focus. But you get the feeling there's not much more to tell, and manage to keep it together for the duration of it.

  When Ottar has finished with the details, he opens up the brown envelope and pull out a stack of documents. “There are just a few more things you need to do”, he says and puts them on the table.

  “What?” You’re surprised at how steady it comes out. Ottar just points at the stack and you read through them all. It’s a mix of legal and official documents to be signed: Some having to do with the funeral, some with the investigation of the accident; the list goes on, but you just sign the lot without even reading it. “Look! I’ve got a couple of favours to ask you”. He looks at you, giving a slight nod. “I need a car, just for a few days. I need to get rid of a lot of stuff here, I need to do some shopping, and… Well, you understand?” He nodded, but explained that there was little he could do, and suggests that you rented one at the auto-shop. “Ok”, you answer. “Just one other thing. I could use a lift!” Ottar smiles at the request and asks you where to? “I have to make a visit… I haven’t seen them for almost five years, and it’s long overdue.”