Karin Fossum - The Water's Edge

'A match,' he said. 'Irrefutable, undeniable proof.'

Brein opened the door. He was standing on his own two feet this time, but when they told him why they had come, he collapsed against the door frame.

'No!' he screamed. 'I want you to leave me alone!'

They allowed him a few minutes to sort out of a couple of essential things such as packing his blood-thinning medication, which he claimed his life depended on. He asked to call his father, but they told him no. He put a packet of cigarettes in his pocket and followed them to the police car. He did not utter a single word during the thirty-minute drive to the station. Sejer watched him in the mirror. Now it was Brein's turn to look like a small boy who had been abducted.

Once they reached the station he was placed in a cell, where he sat for four hours. He perched on the edge of the bench and stared down at his lap, at his hands with their blue veins. Several times he got up and went over to look out of the window. The cell faced a backyard with a brown Portakabin and several parked patrol cars. He saw Volvos and Fords. A row of green wheelie bins was lined up against the Portakabin. He paced the floor. He could take only a few steps before he had to turn around. He thought about those who had occupied the cell before him, thieves and robbers, murderers. He had nothing in common with them. He sat down on the bench once more and folded his hands. No one had come to check up on him, to see if he was all right, didn't they have to do that? They had promised him something to eat, but no food had arrived.

He felt a sudden urge to lie down and close his eyes, but it would be like surrendering, and he did not want to surrender, he was going to fight. So he continued to perch on the edge and to despair. He listened to the sounds outside, the traffic, scattered voices and shouts. Sometimes he would shudder violently, his heart racing; he had nodded off and woken up with a jerk. A cup of coffee would have been nice, he thought, another human being, a voice.

The four hours turned into a restless walk between the bench and the window; all the time he was trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. Listen to me, he wanted to say, I can explain, it's not what you think! They seemed friendly enough and polite, and they did have rules to follow, but he didn't want to be naive, he didn't want to weaken, they weren't going to get him, they weren't going to pin something on him which wasn't true. For a moment he raged with indignation at everything that had happened. He had been carried along by life itself, temptation had dropped right into his hands, and he had acted in accordance with his desires, it was like falling into a river and being swept along by the current. Wasn't he merely being human? He sensed how the heat surged through his body, and then he collapsed once more, because deep down he knew better, of course he did. They would show him no mercy, they would reel off their accusations, drag him through the mud like he was something inferior. Distraught, he tried to keep control of his thoughts, because it felt safer, but they overpowered him and he bowed his head in shame.

Wilfred Arent Brein was not a handsome man. Nature had not been kind to him. He had a gaunt face and thin lips devoid of colour. He was conscious of his shortcomings and it showed; his eyes were evasive and changed, at times, to a sullen look.

'I was promised something to eat,' he began.

Sejer was reminded of a stray dog begging.

'Oh?' he said. 'Were you? We'll see to it. Presently.'

He sent Brein a questioning look. 'You haven't eaten much recently?'

Brein scowled at him. 'I think you owe me an explanation.' He tried to sound assertive, but there was not much strength left in his feeble voice.

Sejer leafed through a pile of papers on the table, checked the time and read a few sentences on a document.

'Why haven't you been eating?'

'Surely it's my own business how much I eat,' Brein said. He jerked his head. It was a repetitive, nervous twitch.

'Of course,' Sejer said. 'I was just expressing concern. You've been having problems?'

'I live with a great deal of pain,' he said. 'I have done for years. Some days all I can do is lie on the sofa and groan. But you need to explain to me why I'm sitting here,' he added. 'You owe me that much.'

'I owe you nothing,' Sejer said, 'for the time being. If it turns out I've made a mistake, you'll get an apology. So far I haven't made a mistake.' Then, in a friendly voice, 'Did you know Jonas August?'

Brein jumped instantly. He had not meant to, he knew he had to be strong to save himself, but the boy's name rang like a bell in his ears and he shuddered. The room they were in was white, bare and windowless. The table, which separated them, had yellowed with age and the varnish had started to peel. There was something shabby about the furniture, as though it had been bought from some second-hand shop. On the ceiling a fluorescent tube cast a garish light over the stone floor. A camera had been placed in a corner of the ceiling. The lens followed him like an evil, foreboding eye. Sejer repeated his question.

'Did you know Jonas August?'

'I think you need to explain why I'm here,' Brein said again.

'You have no idea why you've been arrested?'

'No. I mean, come on. You can't just pick up people and put them in a cell like this,' he complained.

'Yes,' Sejer said, 'we can and I'm happy to get straight to the point. Let's not waste time; after all, you're hungry. This is about Jonas August Løwe. He was found on the fourth of September up at Linde Forest. The forensic pathologist has established that he was subjected to a violent attack, which caused his death, and we can link you to the crime with irrefutable evidence. Did you know him?'

Brein shook his head in disbelief. He was still unable to grasp the situation. Sejer's confidence frightened him, his composure and authority were menacing.

'Irrefutable evidence?' he stammered. 'No, I don't believe that.'

'DNA,' Sejer explained.

Brein rummaged around his memory feverishly, but he failed to see the connection.

'I haven't given you a sample,' he said. 'You're trying to entrap me.'

'You're already trapped. And if you're interested in telling your side of the story, then now is your chance. It's your best option. Jonas August didn't have that chance.'

Brein shook his head again. 'This is some sort of trick.'

'No,' Sejer said, 'it's very simple.' He changed tack. 'Did you know him?'

'I didn't kill those boys,' Brein said.

'I didn't say you had.'

'But that's what you're thinking. You think that I killed Jonas and Edwin, but I didn't!'

'We want to make sure we find out what really happened,' Sejer said. 'In order for us to do that, you need to work with us.'

'All right. But then you have to believe me, because I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know Jonas,' he said. 'I had only seen him a few times walking along the road, a little lad with skinny legs and trousers that were too big for him.'

He started digging a nail into a dent in the table. While he talked he avoided meeting Sejer's scrutinising eyes.

'I can't deny that I've been driving around looking at the kids,' he said, 'and pay attention to what I said. Looking at them, that's all. I know what you're thinking, but you're completely wrong.'

'You know nothing about what I think,' Sejer said. 'Go on.'

'I can't help that I'm attracted to children,' Brein said. 'I've always been like that. But I was too scared to tell anyone – you probably know this already. So I kept it all to myself, and that was very hard. It was a lot to handle for a small boy, because I was only ten when I started to have these feelings. There was a boy at the farm next to ours, and I was in love with him, he was only six, and I didn't know what to do with myself when he was around. I was all over the place.'