Free Next of Kin by Elsebeth Egholm

possible time.
    That was his first thought as he heard the familiar sound from the depths of his pocket. Of all occasions: right in the middle of his father-in-law’s speech to his wife on their golden wedding anniversary.
    â€˜Terribly sorry,’ he murmured, fumbling to retrieve the irate device.
    The lunch guests already seemed to be cross with him because he had been so quiet and irritable. He had snapped at Maibritt as she tried to straighten his tie, and he had also told off the waitress in an unnecessarily loud voice, but then she shouldn’t have bloody well gone and poured red wine into his water tumbler—and she had stared at him as though he’d just jumped on her sandcastle.
    Thirteen pairs of disapproving eyes turned in his direction. Even twelve-year-old Jonas, his nephew, frowned. Maibritt made a movement with her head that was a clear indication that he was to leave the table and go outside. So he did.
    â€˜Ole Nyborg Madsen,’ he said, while managing to open the door of the restaurant. The wind off the marina took hold of his jacket and made his coat-tails flap and his tie float in a ridiculous fashion. It was fortunate he had no hair left to whip uncontrollably in the wind.
    â€˜Duty officer here. We’ve received a request from A&E for counselling. You’re on duty today, right?’
    He confirmed. It was his first week back in the saddle since Nanna had died those few months ago. He had felt ready. He had forgiven himself the incident in Storcenter Nord. He had worked through his grief, he concluded, even though he sensed that Maibritt did not quite agree with him. She hadn’t needed any time off, but then, on the other hand, she didn’t have a job where she was faced with other people’s unhappiness and wrecked lives on a daily basis. There wasn’t much of that when you worked on your own from home, but then there were other downsides to writing children’s books.
    â€˜What’s the spiel and who’s the doctor?’
    â€˜The doctor is Hans Peter Jensen. You need to talk to a young man whose dog savaged a seven-year-old girl. She’s on the operating table as we speak.’
    â€˜So he’s asked for someone to talk to? Or did the doctor request it?’
    A brief pause followed. Then, ‘As far as I know the request came from the man’s employer. He works for a waste management company.’
    Ole Nyborg Madsen cast a relieved glance through the glass frontage of the restaurant. At the table his father-in-law had finished his speech and it was time for kisses and toasts. It suited him fine that he was able to escape the rest of the family farce.
    â€˜Okay,’ he said, barely able to suppress a smile. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
    He returned to the party and made his excuses. They too looked relieved. Maibritt walked him to the door and out into the wind.
    â€˜Now I understand why,’ she said.
    â€˜Why what?’
    â€˜It’s on Monday. They’re letting him out on Monday.’
    Her eyes were deep blue and they looked at him with all the concern he could no longer face. How did she do it? How could she be so calm? So indifferent? He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t just a tiny bit envious, yet at the same time he wasn’t. Hatred, he had discovered, was an incredibly potent fuel. It gave him an energy he had never known.
    He nodded. ‘After four months. One hundred and twenty-two days.’
    The bitterness seeped out between his lips. He could hear it clearly when the wind caught his words.
    She shook her head. She took his hand, but he withdrew it.
    â€˜You’re not ready to go back to work, Ole. Why can’t you see that yourself?’
    â€˜Of course I’m ready,’ he snapped. ‘I can’t keep sitting at home staring at four blank walls. How’s that going to make me feel any better?’
    He could tell that she wanted to say something more,