Free Black Seconds by Karin Fossum Page A

countertop and lit a cigarette. His eyes were deep set, so when he lowered his head they seemed like two black holes in his gaunt face. His gaze wandered along the walls of the garage, took in the shelves with their packets of nails, boxes of screws and nuts, spark plugs, oil, and various tools. Up against the rear wall stood an old apothecary's chest with hundreds of tiny drawers. No one apart from Willy knew what the drawers contained. If anyone were to look they would find nothing but small boxes and jars. But one thing was certain. The contents of some of the boxes would fetch a lot of money on the street.
    Willy inhaled the smoke and his eyes narrowed while he thought. Then he heard the sound of car tires on the gravel. A tall, gray-haired man appeared. Willy was ever vigilant and he was immediately on his guard. He managed to feign a look of surprise just as Sejer appeared, towering in the entrance to the garage. Willy saw him as a clearly outlined silhouette. There was something familiar about the feeling Sejer evoked in him, and he quickly tried to work out what it was. For a while the man stood there without saying a word. But he stared at the black Opel with interest, at the tools spread out on the floor, and finally at Willy.
    "Oterhals?" he said politely.
    Willy nodded. A muscle contracted in his stomach. The man standing in the entrance watching him was nearly two meters tall and he was a police officer. Willy was quite sure of it.
    "You fix cars?" Sejer asked with interest.
    "Not really." Willy shrugged. "This is purely cosmetic."
    Sejer walked a few steps closer. He inspected the dent. "I'm a police officer," he said. "Could I speak to Tom Erik Rix, please?" He met Willy's gaze. At the same time he pulled his badge out of his pocket.
    "He's not here," Willy said quickly. He leapt down from the counter and stood with his arms folded across his chest.
    "Do you know where he is?" Sejer asked.
    Willy resisted the temptation to look out at the drive. Tomme had gone to the kiosk. He could be back any second.
    "He'll turn up, I guess. But I don't know when. What do you want to talk to Tomme for?" he said.
    "I'm sure you've heard about his cousin."
    "Christ, yeah."
    "I just wanted a quick word. Did you take part in the search?" Sejer asked.
    "No. But Tomme did." Willy took a few steps across the floor, his hands deep in his pockets.
    "You had an accident?" Sejer continued, changing the subject; he stared at the black Opel.
    "That's not my car," Willy said abruptly. "I'm a good driver and I don't have accidents. It's Tomme's. He ran into a crash barrier by the bridge in town. Just got his license." He sighed and tried out a knowing smile. He had been driving for four years now and he considered himself an excellent driver.
    "A newly qualified driver is no laughing matter," Sejer nodded. "However, we should be grateful that he hit only the crash barrier. And not something else."
    "Christ, yeah," Willy repeated. He let the cigarette fall to the floor. A number of thoughts raced through his head. Was this a coincidence? A cop right inside his own garage. Had someone been talking? He felt dizzy and had to lean against the wall. He wanted to wipe the sweat off his brow, but managed to suppress his reflexes at the last minute.
    "Lucky for Tomme that you're good with cars," Sejer said.
    Willy nodded. He was starting to panic. Tomme could pull up outside at any moment, driving Willy's Scorpio, with two bottles of Coke and a packet of cigarettes. He did not know where to look. Could not look into Sejer's scrutinizing gray eyes, or at the apothecary's chest, or at Tomme's dented Opel. He ended up staring at the floor.
    Sejer took one step forward toward the Opel and peered inside. Then he walked around the car. "A tough car, the old Opel," he said with authority.
    Willy nodded.
    "Well, I'll catch Tomme some other time," Sejer said. Then he looked over his shoulder, toward the rear wall of the garage.
    "By the way, that's a nice