Certain Signs that You are Dead by Torkil Damhaug

Author:Torkil Damhaug [Damhaug, Torkil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472206909
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2016-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

24

As the light through the living-room windows grew sharper, Sigurd sat in his chair and studied a withered plant on the windowsill. Katja was lying curled up on the sofa, a blanket over her, her face half covered by her black hair. The outside door was ajar; the owl could no longer be heard, but other birds had woken up now. Somewhere behind the trees, the breaking of the waves. The distant drone of traffic. A deep note that sounded as if it came from a ship. Now and then human sounds. Children laughing, people talking on the track along the side of the field.

He took a walk. Followed a path through the forest that emerged on to a road with a petrol station a few hundred metres away. He bought rolls and cheese, a Pepsi Max, instant coffee and some fruit. As he came back in through the veranda door, she opened her eyes. An almost imperceptible smile when he put the rolls and some spreads on the table in front of her, but she didn’t touch any of it.

He poured her a glass of Pepsi, ate half a roll.

– How long are you planning to stay here?

She turned slightly, looked up at the ceiling. – Don’t know.

– Is this because of the man who died?

She nodded.

– Does being here help?

She glanced across at him. – You don’t understand.

– Perhaps you could help me out. So I understand some of it at least.

Abruptly she sat up. – I don’t understand it either. Why they killed him.

He waited for more.

– There’s someone I must get hold of. Can’t leave here until I know it’s safe.

– Has somebody threatened you?

Without answering, she stood up, wrapped in the blanket, took her phone from the table and let herself into the toilet. He heard her speaking to someone, but not the words; her voice was low. When she came back, she was wearing the red dress but was still barefoot, her hair tangled.

She grabbed the bottle of Pepsi and drank.

– I’m trying to get in touch with a member of his family, she said once she’d put the bottle down. Her voice was stronger now, maybe a sign that she was ready to talk about it.

– Do they live here too?

– Who?

– The family of the man who’s been killed.

She nodded, and again he felt a jab. But he was in a different place now. He was not a killer; he wasn’t the one who had killed the man she was sitting there thinking about.

He eased down beside her on the sofa. – Does Ibro have relatives in Malmö?

He’d crossed the line, it was something that had to happen, but she answered without looking at him.

– An uncle.

For a moment he thought he’d got away with it. But then she pulled away and turned towards him.

– How do you know his name?

He felt himself turn cold, and then hot.

– I found out.

She stood up. – They came to your house. They came to your house and asked, right?

– Which they?

– You know.

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