Black Seconds by Karin Fossum Read Free Book Online

to pull himself together. He was relieved that Willy would be able to fix his car. He liked the idea of himself as Willy’s gofer. But there were times when he felt stifled by his older, more resourceful friend. Once Tomme had finally passed his driving test – after failing his first attempt, needless to say, and putting up with being ridiculed about this in every way imaginable – he felt they had achieved a kind of equality at last. He could drive himself. On top of that, it had been Willy who had trawled the local papers in search of a used car costing the 20,000 kroner that Tomme had managed to save up. His con firmation alone had brought in 15,000.
    ‘An Opel is a safe bet,’ Willy had said confidently.
    ‘Reliable engines, especially in the older models. You can’t worry about the colour. Don’t even go 47
    there. If you find an Opel in good condition, buy it, even if it’s bright orange.’
    But they had found a black one. Even the paint work was fine. Tomme was over the moon. He could not wait a minute longer. He just had to get driving.
    ‘What about the police?’ Willy said tentatively. ‘I sup pose they’re all over the place because of your cousin.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Have they talked to you?’
    ‘Jesus, no.’ Tomme was shocked. He slackened his grip for a second and Willy’s finger got crushed.
    ‘Concentrate, you idiot! You’ve got to lift it up while I’m using the screwdriver!’
    Tomme held on. His knuckles were white.
    ‘When it’s something like a missing girl and stuff,’
    Willy panted underneath the car, ‘the cops just go crazy. Perhaps they’ve even checked out her dad. Have they?’
    ‘Dunno,’ Tomme mumbled.
    ‘But they’ll want to know about her family,’ Willy said. ‘Perhaps they’ll talk to you as well.’
    Tomme nodded. He felt like a robot as he listened to the flow of words coming from Willy. It made him feel calm and nervous at the same time.
    ‘You being her cousin, well, that’s incriminating in itself,’ Willy said. Finally he got up. The wing was loose. ‘Especially if they never find her. If they never find out the truth. Something like that brands people for generations. You know a girl was murdered out here forty years ago, don’t you?’
    48
    Tomme shook his head.
    ‘Well, she was. A guy raped and killed a fifteenyear-old girl. Both their families still live here. And you can tell just by looking at them.’
    ‘Tell what?’ Tomme asked. He was growing more and more nervous.
    ‘That it’s all they ever think about. And they know everyone knows who they are. That’s why they can never look anyone in the eye. That kind of stuff.’ He wiped a bead of snot from his upper lip.
    ‘The mother of the guy who killed her is close to seventy now. And you can still tell who she is from miles away.’
    ‘Well I can’t,’ Tomme snapped. ‘I’ve no idea who she is.’ He wanted his friend to shut up. Hated all this talk of death and destruction. The only thing he cared about was the car. Making it whole again. Shiny and new, with unmarked paintwork, like it was before.
    She knows she is pretty, Sejer thought sadly. He was holding a photo of Ida in his hand. In his mind he could hear them all, an endless chorus of aunts and uncles, neighbours and friends. What a gorgeous child. He remembered his own aunts, who used to tickle his chin as if he were a puppy or some other dumb creature. And so I was, he realised. A shy, skinny boy with legs that were too long. He kept looking at the photo. For years Ida had seen her own beauty mirrored in the eyes of others. This had made her a confident girl, a girl who was 49
    accustomed to being admired, and possibly envied, too. Used to getting her own way with both her friends and her parents, though Helga came across as firm and strict, so Ida had also been given rules. She had never broken them. Who could have made her ignore her mother’s warnings? What had he done to lure her away? Or had she simply been grabbed