Black Seconds Read Free Page A

would have come back of her own accord. Helga could no longer keep on top of her own thoughts; she longed desperately for someone to take over, take control and make all the decisions. Two police officers were walking up the drive, and Helga stared at the older of them, a very tall grey-haired man in his fifties. He moved quietly and thoughtfully, as if nothing in the world could unsettle him. Helga thought, he’s exactly what I need. He’ll fix this, because that’s his job; he’s done this before. Shaking his hand felt unreal. This isn’t 14
    really happening, she thought; please let me wake up from this terrible nightmare. But she did not wake up.
    Helga was stout and thickset, with coarse dark hair brushed away from her face. Her skin was pale, her brows strong and thick. Inspector Sejer looked at her calmly.
    ‘Are you on your own?’ he asked.
    ‘My sister will be here shortly. She was the one who called you. She just had to go tell her own family.’
    Her voice was panicky. She looked at the two men, at Jacob Skarre with his blond curls and Konrad Sejer with his steel-grey hair. She looked at them with the pleading expression of a beggar. Then she disappeared into the house. Stood by the win dow with her arms folded across her chest. Sitting down was out of the question; she had to remain standing, had to be able to see the road, the yellow bicycle when it finally turned up. Because it would turn up now, the very moment she had set this huge machine in motion. She started talking. Desperate to fill the void with words, to keep the images at bay, hideous images that kept appearing in her mind.
    ‘I’m on my own with her. We had her late,’ she stuttered. ‘I’m nearly fifty. Her dad moved out eight years ago. He knows nothing. I’m reluctant to call him. I’m sure there’s an explanation and I don’t want to worry him for no reason.’
    ‘So you don’t consider it possible that she might be with her father?’ Sejer said.
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    ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Anders would have called. He’s a good dad.’
    ‘So you get on well as far as Ida is concerned?’
    ‘Oh, absolutely!’
    ‘Then I think you should call him,’ Sejer said. He said this because he was a father himself and he did not want Ida’s father kept in the dark. Helga walked reluctantly towards the telephone. The living room fell quiet as she punched in the number.
    ‘There’s no reply,’ she reported and hung up.
    ‘Leave a message,’ Sejer said, ‘if he has an answerphone.’
    She nodded and rang back. Her voice acquired an embarrassed quality because she had an audience.
    ‘Anders,’ they heard, ‘it’s Helga. I’ve been waiting for Ida; she should have been home ages ago. I was just wondering if she was with you.’
    She paused and then stuttered: ‘Call me, please!
    The police are here.’ She turned to Sejer. ‘He travels a lot. He could be anywhere.’
    ‘We need a good description of her,’ Sejer said.
    ‘And a photo, which I’m sure you have.’
    Helga sensed how strong he was. It was strange to think that he must have sat like this before. In other living rooms with other mothers. Most of all she wanted to fall into his arms and cling to him, but she did not dare. So she gritted her teeth.
    Sejer rang the station and ordered two patrol cars to drive down the highway towards Glassverket. A nine-year-old girl riding a yellow bicycle, Helga heard him say. And she thought how nice it was to 16
    hear him talk about her daughter in this way; he made it sound like they were just looking for a missing vehicle. Later, a cacophony of voices and car engines followed, nightmarish images flickering in front of her eyes. Ringing telephones, snappy orders and strange faces. They wanted to see Ida’s room. Helga didn’t like that because it reminded her of something. Something she had seen on TV, in crime dramas. Young girls’ rooms, howling with empti ness. Quietly she walked upstairs and opened the door. Sejer and Skarre