Free Next of Kin by Elsebeth Egholm Page A

but then she pursed her lips together.
    â€˜Well, good luck then.’
    She leaned forwards. He managed to shift so that her kiss landed right next to his mouth and he saw her disappointment, but he didn’t have the energy to apologise.
    â€˜I’ll take the car. Can you get a lift back?’
    She nodded and returned to the party without another word.
    The young man sat in the consultation room staring into space. He was wearing a tight T-shirt and oversized jogging pants and was living proof of the theory that dog owners tend to resemble their dogs. In his case a small, compact bull terrier.
    â€˜Hello. My name’s Ole Nyborg Madsen. I understand you’ve had a nasty experience.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m a psychologist.’
    The young man, whose name was Thor, glared at Ole’s hand for a while before lazily returning the handshake and then stuffing his hand back into his pocket.
    Ole sat down opposite him. A coffee table separated them. He looked into the young man’s eyes searching for trauma or a hint of a troubled conscience, but his eyes met Ole’s with something that suspiciously looked like defiance.
    â€˜It’s just my company,’ Thor said. ‘I guess they don’t want me to go gaga and take sick leave. But that’s out of the question,’ he added.
    â€˜You might have a delayed reaction,’ Ole said cautiously. ‘After all, as I understand it, it was a violent incident. Do you want to tell me about it?’
    The young man ran his hand through his ultra-short hair and sighed; it seemed he couldn’t even be bothered to find the words. He slumped back in the seat and Ole was overcome by a sudden urge to shake him, order him to sit up straight and show just a little bit of respect to the seven-year-old girl whose arm had been torn to pieces and might even lose it all together.
    â€˜Well, this kid came running up as if Arnold was some kind of poodle she wanted to pat.’
    â€˜She’s only seven years old.’
    Thor shook his head and rolled his eyes. ‘Then it’s her parents’ job to keep an eye on her. I had my dog on a leash. He was only trying to defend me. It’s only natural, pal.’ He mouthed something inaudible; it looked like ‘retard.’
    Ole struggled with his hostility. ‘So you were chatting to a friend on the pavement in Silkeborgvej. The girl came up to you, right? Then what happened?’
    Thor, with a frown, seemed to be having difficulty recalling the details. ‘I didn’t see a lot. Suddenly I heard the dog growl. That’s the first warning, you know.’
    He looked at Ole, clearly indicating that the girl ought to have acquainted herself better with canine psychology.
    â€˜And then all hell broke loose before I had time to count to three.’
    â€˜So the growl wasn’t much of a warning?’
    Thor shrugged. ‘She should have damned well kept her distance. But, no, she squatted down to stroke Arnold.’
    The two last words were spoken with a sneer. Ole took a deep breath. There was no indication that the incident had traumatised the young man—no tears or hysterics, no unmotivated fits of laughter or incessant talk about irrelevant matters. On the contrary, he sensed only irritation that he had to sit here in A&E wasting his time when he could be somewhere else.
    The patient seemed to have read his mind. He said, ‘No offence, but how long am I supposed to sit here? I mean, I drove her here right away, didn’t I? I borrowed my mate’s car and drove like hell, with my foot right down.’
    He sent Ole a pleading look as if he were a school kid trying to get his teacher to let him out early so he could catch the bus.
    â€˜I mean, I’ve already made a statement to the police. They sent someone up here …’ He glanced at his watch. ‘AGF are playing Esbjerg in thirty minutes. I’m meeting someone at the