Black Seconds by Karin Fossum Read Free Book Online Page B

tracksuit she had been wearing. And the wording: ‘This is where Ida was going.’ Dotted lines. A close-up of Laila’s Kiosk.
    ‘They treat it like it’s a soap opera,’ Sejer said. ‘I hope it’s a short one.’
    They nodded briefly to each other and went their separate ways. Once he got home, Sejer went into the kitchen and found a bag of dog food. His dog, Kollberg, who had been lying on the floor waiting for his master, stirred gingerly. However, the sound of the dry feed rattling in his metal bowl made him stand up. He trudged wearily into the kitchen. The dog, a Leonberger, was so old he defied all statistics. He looked up at Sejer with dark, impenetrable eyes. Sejer found it hard to look back at him. He knew the dog was suffering, that he ought to be spared further pain. Soon, he thought. But not today. I’ll wait till Sara comes back home. He cut himself a slice of bread and put some salami on top. Then he found a tube of mayonnaise in the fridge. He stood for a while weighing up the pros and cons. He considered mayonnaise an extravagance. He unscrewed the cap and was struck by the absurdity of his situation. Here he was squeezing mayonnaise on his sandwich in the shape of an 8 before sitting down to eat it. While Helga Joner could barely breathe.
    Sejer woke up at 6 a.m. The dog lay on the floor next to his bed. He registered his master’s light movements on the mattress and raised his head. A second later the alarm gave off three short beeps. 53
    Sejer leaned over the edge of the bed and patted Kollberg on the head. The dog’s skull was clearly outlined underneath his fur; he felt the bumps of it against his palm. Then he thought of Ida. She snapped into place in his mind. He stretched out his long body in the bed and tried to peer out from behind the curtains, searching for daylight. It was no good; he had to get up to have a look. He stared out at the damp morning mist, which lay like a lid across the town. For breakfast he ate two pieces of crispbread with cheese and red pepper. Coaxed Kollberg down the stairs and walked round the block once. Let him back into the living room. It was 7.15 when he opened the door to his office with fresh newspapers tucked under his arm. ‘Ida still missing’ was the headline.
    The first meeting of the day was about dividing up tasks. Not that there was much to divide up in the Ida Joner case. In the first instance it was a question of checking out anyone with a record. People who had finished serving their sentences, people who might have been out on leave during the relevant period, and those previously charged but never convicted. The blunt truth was that they were all waiting for someone to stumble across Ida’s mutilated body so they could start the investigation properly. Her photo was pinned up on the board in the meeting room. Her smile sent a jolt of pain through them every time they passed it, and in the midst of it all a slender hope still existed that Ida would suddenly stroll casually into her mother’s house with the most incredible story to tell. 54
    When the telephone rang, and it did so fre quently, everyone spun around and stared intently at whoever had answered it, feeling certain that they would be able to gauge from his reaction if it was news about Ida. The duty officer had the same hopes whenever he answered the telephone. They knew that it would happen eventually.
    A new search was initiated. They were still trying to decide if they should drag the river. The problem was where to start.
    Sejer drove out to Helga’s house. He could see her face at the window; most likely she had heard the car. He got out slowly, very slowly on purpose so as not to raise her hopes.
    ‘I’ve almost given up,’ she said weakly.
    ‘I know that it’s difficult,’ he said. ‘But we’re still looking.’
    ‘I’ve always known that Ida was too good to be true.’
    ‘Too good to be true?’ Sejer said carefully. Helga’s lower lip quivered. ‘She was. Now I