Black Seconds Read Free

partly hidden by his cap. Helga Joner stared at the trailer. It was covered by a black tarpaulin. She thought she could see something lying underneath. Her thoughts went off in all directions. There was room for both a girl and a bicycle underneath that tarpaulin. Did he look guilty? Then again, she knew that he always wore this remote expression. Sometimes she would see him in the local shop. He lived in a world of his own.
    The thought that Ida might be lying under the black tarpaulin struck her as absurd. I'm really starting to lose it, she thought.
    "Have you seen her?" Ruth repeated. She had a firm voice, Helga thought. So commanding. It made people sit up and take notice.
    Finally he returned her gaze, but only for a moment. His eyes were round and gray. Had he blinked quickly? Helga bit her lip. But that was the way he was; she knew he didn't want to talk to people or look at them. It meant nothing. His voice sounded somewhat gruff as he replied.
    "No," he said.
    Ruth held his gaze. The gray eyes flickered away once more. He put the three-wheeler into gear and revved the engine. The accelerator was on the right handlebar. He liked revving the engine. Ruth indicated left and drove past him. But she kept looking at him in the mirror. "Hah!" she snorted. "Everyone says he can't talk. What nonsense!"
    A heavy silence fell on the car. Helga thought, She'll be back now. Laila from the kiosk doesn't remember it, but Ida was there. She's lying on the sofa reading
Wendy
and chewing gum; her cheeks are bulging with gum. There are sweet wrappers everywhere. The pink gum makes her breath smell sweet.
    But the living room was deserted. Helga broke down completely. Everything inside her crumpled.
    "Oh my God," she sobbed. "It's really true now. Do you hear me, Ruth? Something terrible has happened!" Her sobs culminated in a scream.
    Ruth went over to the telephone.
    ***
    Ida Joner was reported missing at 8:35 P.M. The female caller introduced herself as Ruth Emilie Rix. She took great care to appear businesslike, afraid that the police would not take her call seriously otherwise. At the same time there was an undercurrent of desperation in her voice. Jacob Skarre made notes on a pad while the woman talked, and he experienced many contradictory feelings. Ida Joner, a nine-year-old girl from Glassverket, had been missing for two hours. Clearly something had happened. However, it did not necessarily follow that it was bad news. Most of the time, in fact, it was not bad news at all, but a minor upset. At first it would cause pain and fear, only to culminate in the most soothing comfort of all: a mother's embrace. The thought of it made him smile; he had seen it so many times. Yet the thought of what might have happened made him shudder.
    It was 9:00 P.M. when the patrol car pulled up in front of Mrs. Joner's house. She lived at Glassblåserveien 8, eleven kilometers from town and sufficiently remote for it to be considered a rural area, with scattered farms and fields and a range of new housing developments. Glassverket had its own village center, with a school, a few shops and a gas station. Mrs. Joner's house was in a residential area. It was attractive and painted red. A hedge of white dogwood with thin bristling branches formed a spectacular, spiky border around the property. The lawn had yellow patches from the drought.
    Helga was standing by the window. The sight of the white police car made her feel faint. She had gone too far, she had tempted fate. It was like admitting that something terrible had happened. They should not have called the police. If they had not called, Ida 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 gray-haired man in his fifties. He moved quietly and thoughtfully, as if