Tainted Blood by Arnaldur Indridason

decrepit that it took Erlendur a while to be sure that it was the same person. Stories about Rúnar still circulated among the police. Erlendur had once read that the past was a different country and he could understand that. He understood that times change and people too. But he wasn't prepared to erase the past.
    They stood in the garden facing one another.
    "What about Kolbrún?" Erlendur said.
    "Bugger off!"
    "Not until you tell me about Kolbrún."
    "She was a fucking whore!" Rúnar suddenly said between clenched teeth. "So take that and bugger off! Everything she said about me and to me was bloody lies. There wasn't any fucking rape. She lied the whole time!"
    Erlendur visualised Kolbrún sitting in front of this man all those years ago when she filed the rape charge. He imagined her gradually mustering up her courage until finally she dared to go to the police to tell what had happened to her. He imagined the terror she'd experienced and, above all else, wanted to forget as if it had never occurred, as if it had merely been a nightmare from which she'd eventually wake. Then she realised she would never wake up. She had been defiled. She'd been attacked and she'd been plundered.
    "She turned up three days after the incident and accused the man of rape," Rúnar said. "It wasn't very convincing."
    "So you threw her back out," Erlendur said.
    "She was lying."
    "And you laughed at her and belittled her and told her to forget it. But she didn't forget it, did she?"
    The old man looked at Erlendur with loathing in his eyes.
    "She went to Reykjavik, didn't she?" Erlendur said.
    "Holberg was never convicted."
    "Thanks to whom, do you reckon?"
    Erlendur imagined Kolbrún wrangling with Rúnar at the office. Wrangling with him! That man! Arguing the truth of what she'd been through. Trying to convince him she was telling the truth as if he were the supreme judge in her case.
     
    She had to summon all her strength to relate the events of that night to him and tried to give a systematic account, but it was just too painful. She couldn't describe it. Couldn't describe something indescribable, repulsive, hideous. Somehow she man-aged to piece together her disjointed story. Was that a grin? She didn't understand why the policeman was grinning. She had the impression it was a grin, but it couldn't be. Then he started questioning her about the details.
    "Tell me exactly what it was like."
    She looked at him, confused. Hesitantly began her story again.
    "No, I've heard that. Tell me exactly what happened. You were wearing panties. How did he get your panties off? How did he get it inside you?"
    Was he serious? Eventually she asked if there were any women working there.
    "No. If you want to charge this man with rape, you have to be more precise than this, understand? Had you led him on somehow so he might have thought you were up for it?"
    Up for it? She told him in an almost inaudible voice that she certainly had not.
    "You'll have to speak up. How did he get your panties off?"
    She was sure it was a grin. He questioned her brashly, queried what she said, was rude, some of the questions were downright abusive, filthy, he behaved as though she had provoked the assault, had wanted to have sex with the man, perhaps changed her mind but then it was too late, you know, too late to back out of that kind of thing. "There's no point in going to a dancehall, flirting with the man and then stopping halfway. No point at all," he said.
    She was sobbing when she eventually opened her handbag, took out a plastic bag and handed it to him. He opened the bag and took out her ripped panties ...
    *
    Rúnar let go of the rake and was about to walk past Erlendur, but Erlendur blocked his way and pinned him against the wall of the house. They looked each other in the eye.
    "She gave you some evidence," Erlendur said. "The only evidence she had. She was certain Holberg had left something behind."
    "She never gave me anything," Rúnar hissed. "Leave me