The Owl Always Hunts at Night: A Novel

The Owl Always Hunts at Night: A Novel

The thrilling follow-up to Samuel Bjørk’s internationally bestselling I'm Traveling Alone , which The Wall Street Journal calls “tense and smartly constructed”   When a troubled teenager disappears from an orphanage and is found murdered, her body arranged on a bed of feathers, veteran investigator Holger Munch and his team are called into the case. Star investigator Mia Kruger, on temporary leave while she continues to struggle with her own demons, jumps back on the team and dives headfirst into this case: just in time to decode the clues in a disturbing video of the victim before she was killed, being held prisoner like an animal in a cage. Meanwhile, Munch’s daughter, Miriam, meets an enticing stranger at a party—a passionate animal rights activist who begins to draw her into his world and away from her family.  Munch, Kruger, and the team must hunt down the killer before he can strike again in this sophisticated, intricately plotted psychological thriller by the newest phenomenon in international crime fiction. “Expertly paced and thoughtfully plotted,  The Owl Always Hunts at Night  will leave you shaken to your core.” —Bustle "The tension and stakes increase exponentially over the course of this meticulously plotted tale...Bjork’s character work is excellent and imbues the story with nuance and heft." — Publisher's Weekly Praise for I'm Traveling Alone “Tense and smartly constructed.”  — The Wall Street Journal “Icy landscapes, mysterious clues, a messed-up heroine . . . Nordic noir at its delicious best.” —Sarah Hilary, author of Someone Else’s Skin   “Harrowing and enthralling.” — Publishers Weekly   “A suspenseful, skillfully wrought thriller with the potential for a sequel, this is a thoroughly chilling and an excellent read- alike for Jo Nesbø fans.”  — Booklist , starred review “A breath of fresh air in the crowded Scandinavian crime genre, this suspenseful novel . . . will hook readers early and keep them on the edge of their seats until the final pages. Fans of Jo Nesbø are sure to enjoy the flawed yet likable characters.” — Library Journal , starred review “Samuel Bjørk’s formidable I’m Traveling Alone is despatched with real élan. . . . Mia’s confrontation with both her own demons and a very human one is mesmerising fare.”  —Independent (UK) Samuel Bjørk is the pen name of Norwegian novelist, playwright, and singer/songwriter Frode Sander Øien. Øien wrote his first stageplay at the age of twenty-one and has since written two highly acclaimed novels, released six albums, written five plays, and translated Shakespeare, all in his native Norway. Øien is the author of I’m Traveling Alone . He currently lives and works in Oslo. ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof*** Copyright © 2017 Samuel Bjork   The little girl lay as still as she could on the sofa under the blanket while she waited for the other children to fall asleep. She had made up her mind. She would do it tonight. She would be scared no longer. Wait no longer. She was seven years old and very grown up. She would leave once it started to get dark. She had not swallowed tonight’s sleeping pill. Just pushed it under her tongue, where she had kept it when she showed Aunt Julia what a good girl she’ d been. “Show me.” Tongue out. “Good girl. Next.” Her brother had been doing it for a long time. Ever since they’ d locked him in the beaten-earth cellar. Every night he would hide the pill under his tongue without swallowing it. “Show me.” Tongue out. “Good boy. Next.” Three weeks in the dark for refusing to say sorry. All the children knew that he had done nothing wrong, but the grown-ups had put him in the cellar just the same. Since that time he had changed. Every night he would slip the pill under his tongue without swallowing it, and as her own pill started to take effect and she grew sleepy, she would see his shadow tiptoe out of the room and disappear. The little girl waited until she could hear that the other children were asleep before she sneaked out of the house. It was winter now and still warm, though the twilight had settled softly between the trees. The little girl walked barefoot across the yard, keeping to the shadows until she was hidden by the trees. Having made sure that she hadn’t been spotted, she’ d run along the track between the big trees down toward the gate that bore the warning “Trespassers will be prosecuted.” This was where she’ d decided to start her search. She had heard her brother and one of the other boys whisper about       6                                                                                         Samuel Bjork   this. An old, ramshackle shed, a small, forgotten cabin on the far side of the estate, but she had never seen it herself. They were awakened at six o’clock in the morning every day and went to bed at nine o’clock every night. Always the exact same routine, no variations, with only two fifteen-minute breaks from l