Free Black Seconds by Karin Fossum

break-up between Helga and Anders Joner? You’re her sister. You’re close, aren’t you?’
    She nodded without looking at him. ‘I don’t know the whole story,’ she said evasively, ‘but I think there was another woman. Anders had a one-night stand and Helga couldn’t handle it. She threw him out. Anders is ten years younger than her,’ she continued.
    ‘And don’t get me wrong. He is a good man, not the kind who sleeps around. But it happened this one time and Helga couldn’t deal with it. She’s so, well, how shall I put it, so principled. So rigid.’
    ‘Did she give you any details?’
    Ruth looked away and ended up staring at the valance above the window. ‘She did. But I don’t feel it’s for me to tell you. It wouldn’t help you either.’
    He accepted this and nodded. ‘Helga says that Ida is very fond of both you and your husband, Sverre?’
    Ruth could picture Ida once more, a quick shiny flash of a living, breathing girl, here, in her own kitchen. Then she blinked and the image vanished.
    ‘We’re used to her coming here.’ She nodded. ‘It’s so quiet when she’s not around. She is the kind of child who attracts a lot of attention. She has several other aunts and uncles, but she never visits them.’
    ‘Is there any particular reason why she doesn’t see them?’ Sejer asked cautiously.
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    ‘That’s just how it is, I guess. Anders’ brothers have never shown any interest in Helga and Ida. They’re busy with their own families. Or perhaps they just don’t have anything in common. They live a bit further away than we do.’
    ‘Do you work?’ he wanted to know.
    ‘I do a few hours’ supply teaching at Glassverket school,’ she said. ‘When someone’s ill and so on. Otherwise I’m at home.’
    ‘Your daughter, Marion, how old is she?’
    ‘Twelve,’ Ruth said. ‘She’s in Year Seven. She spends a lot of time with Ida. This is very difficult for her; I don’t know what to tell her. But she reads the papers and watches the news. It’s impossible to keep anything from her.’
    ‘You have nothing to keep from her,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what’s happened.’
    Again she was puzzled by the neutral way in which he expressed himself, since she was convinced that Ida was dead. And not only dead, but killed in some horrific way. The worst one of all, in unimaginable pain and fear.
    ‘How about your son, Tom Erik?’ he asked. When he mentioned her son, she frowned. ‘Well, what about him?’ she said.
    ‘How is he handling it?’
    She shook her head forlornly. ‘Badly,’ she admit ted. ‘He never really talks about his feelings. At least Marion and I are trying. Tomme took part in the search yesterday and said it was awful. I must admit that I often think of him as a rather selfish boy. 74
    He cares mostly about himself. The other day he dented his car.’ She smiled. ‘His reaction was out of all proportion. He’s only had it for three weeks,’ she added. ‘And I stood there listening to him whining about it when there are much more important things going on, so I gave him a piece of my mind,’
    she concluded. She had talked herself warm; her cheeks were flushed.
    ‘Does he work?’ Sejer wanted to know.
    ‘He’s just started his last year at sixth-form college. He’s not enjoying it and is unlikely to go on to higher education. He just wants a job and a salary, to keep his car and see his friends. He spends a lot a time in front of his computer. Or watching videos. That’s all right with me,’ she said. ‘I’m not particularly ambitious on my kids’ behalf. I just want them to be happy.’
    ‘He was involved in an accident,’ Sejer said. ‘On the first of September? If I understood you correctly?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He drove off early that evening and didn’t come home until later that night. He was really upset, poor boy. You know how it is with boys and their cars. But I certainly made it quite clear to him that a dented car is