He’d also realized some other things during the night, concerning his accident at Ártúnsbrekka the day that Benni had vanished. In the recording, only the car he’d hit was visible, not his own, and not the trailer that the man had removed and positioned in a third parking space. They’d parked on the edge of the forecourt, in the only place where there had been spaces. The other driver could be seen stepping out of his car and walking out of the frame, and Freyr knew they’d been talking during the time that he was gone. Then he returned, took his insurance papers from his glove compartment and disappeared again while they filled them out. Just over a quarter of an hour passed before he appeared again, stuck the papers back in the glove compartment and then walked into the petrol station, where he stayed for half an hour, probably having something to eat. Freyr had known all of this beforehand, yet he’d woken wondering what had happened to the insurance papers. The claim had never been followed through; he’d neither lost his no claims bonus nor received any notice that he’d been in the right. His car hadn’t really needed repairing; after Benni disappeared, a dented bumper hadn’t been high on his and Sara’s list of priorities. Nothing but Benni had mattered and the accident had been forgotten, like so much else at the time. But now this struck him, without his understanding why; maybe it irritated him that there was a loose end that had been overlooked.
It was still dark outside. Freyr emptied his cup only to refill it with more flavourless instant coffee. Double the amount this time, to help him wake up properly. He was off today but had still set his alarm clock as if he needed to go to work. Of course, he realized now, he could have slept a little longer; he couldn’t get hold of anyone so early in the morning, which meant there was nothing to do other than pace and drink coffee. And yet. He could call Sara, who never slept in, and try to apologize. She deserved both the apology and the chance to yell and hurl obscenities at him.
‘Don’t hang up,’ Freyr said hurriedly, in case she’d only answered so she could tell him to piss off. ‘I’ve got some stuff to tell you. Then you can shout at me as much you want.’
‘You’re not worth it.’ Her voice was so cold, there could be no doubting her conviction. ‘Just fucking say it and then leave me alone.’ Sara paused for a moment before adding: ‘For the rest of our lives.’
‘Sara, I was an idiot. I’m not going to try to make excuses for what I did; it was despicable of me; I couldn’t withstand temptation, but I should have. I failed you, my job, and maybe Benni too, but the worst thing is that I let you down in such a horrible way.’
‘So you never went to the hospital, and that’s why there was so little insulin in the box? Was it just some old left-over stuff you had lying around? Did you falsify the data in the hospital pharmacy, you bastard?’ Sara spoke so quickly that it reminded Freyr of the fast-forwarded recordings he’d watched the night before.
‘I went to the hospital, Sara, and got the insulin. That’s the truth. But I didn’t stay there to work like I told you; instead, I was with this woman. That’s why I was late. She’d called, and since I was going to get the insulin I had an excuse to see her.’
‘Where did you meet up with her?’ There was pain in her voice, which he found harder to bear than anger. He might gain some absolution for his sins if she just bawled him out, but seeing the raw wounds in her heart was a different matter.
Freyr cleared his throat and hoped that she wouldn’t now ask where precisely they’d had sex. But if she did, he would lie to her, for the very last time. He didn’t think the awful cliché of adulterous sex on his desk would make things any easier. ‘At my office. She suggested it.’
‘Classy.’ There was a brief, bitter silence. ‘Where did you meet this whore of yours? Didn’t she know you were married?’
‘Yes. She knew. She was married, too.’ Now it was Freyr’s turn to hesitate. If he told her the whole story, he would be placing his job in her hands, to some extent. He let it out. ‘She was one of my patients. She wanted help with marital problems, and with life in general. Her husband had had an affair with another woman, and she felt as if everything was falling apart around her.’
‘So she thought it was a good idea to mimic his behaviour.’
‘She has a mild personality disorder, Sara, which is why her treatment lasted longer than the several meetings that it took for her to reconcile herself with her marital issues. Heightened sexual aggression is a common complication in her disorder. She instigated it, though I’m well aware that’s no excuse. When I discovered that she was attracted to me, I should have immediately referred her elsewhere, rather than started an affair with her. But that’s not what I did, and now I’ve got to live with it. I haven’t seen her since that day at my office, nor have I spoken to her. She never made another appointment, so I didn’t have the chance to break it off, as I’d resolved to do, I swear.’ He declined to mention that the woman had been exceptionally beautiful, with a fantastic figure; it would have been nearly impossible for any red-blooded man to resist her advances. Sara didn’t need to hear that.
‘That’s the most pathetic apology I’ve ever heard.’ Sara was angry again, which made Freyr feel almost relieved. She hadn’t said a word about reporting his transgression, though she might well do so later. ‘Utterly pathetic. You’re a fucking loser. I mean it, never call me again.’ She took a breath. ‘There’s just one thing I want to know so I don’t accidentally end up speaking to this mad tart of yours.’ Again she breathed in sharply, as if gathering the courage to ask the question. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Líf.’ Freyr cleared his throat again. ‘Her name is Líf.’
The insurance company had no record of a damage report for Freyr’s car on the date in question. The service representative obviously couldn’t explain why the other party hadn’t sent in the information and suggested that Freyr speak to the man’s insurance company, but Freyr couldn’t remember which one it was. He had no idea what had become of his copy of the report, which he remembered shoving into the glove compartment of his car before driving home from the petrol station. Sara had got the car when they divorced and since they last spoke, true to her word, she was refusing to answer his phone calls. This particular trail would lead nowhere unless something changed.
Freyr’s conversation with Sara had brought up memories of his meeting with Líf that fateful afternoon; memories that he’d long since pushed aside. At first Benni’s disappearance had crowded everything else out and as time passed he’d tried to forget about the affair, which was made simpler by the fact that he hadn’t heard a peep out of Líf. But now he remembered everything. When she came to the office, she’d been quite interested in the insulin in the little paper bag. Freyr had taken it out and shown it to her, explained what it was without mentioning Benni, as he preferred not to discuss his son with a woman with whom he was having an affair. Her first question had been whether it was possible to get high from it, in case they could spice up the sex. When he’d told her that no, the drug was dangerous to anyone other than diabetics, she’d asked all sorts of questions that he’d thought arose from stress, assuming she’d simply welcomed the chance to have something to talk about. Would you die from it? Could it cause a heart attack? What about an irregular heartbeat? And could that kill someone with a bad heart? God, I’m glad I didn’t try it for fun. He recalled how later that same day, when the police had wanted to see confirmation that he’d gone to get the insulin, it had come to light that there was only one pen left in the box.