A Nearly Normal Family(116)

He looks at the presiding judge and his tone is confidential, almost as if he is addressing the judge personally. As if there is no one else in the room.

“Both Amina Be?i? and Stella Sandell were there, then, when Christopher Olsen died. Furthermore, it seems both of them had a motive to want to hurt Olsen. But naturally, that proves nothing. It is in no way proven beyond reasonable doubt that my client was the one holding the knife that caused Christopher Olsen’s death.”

And then it’s over. Everything that happens after this is beyond my control.

G?ran Leijon casts the hastiest of glances at his lay judges and then turns to the gallery to declare the proceedings closed.

“The court will now deliberate, and then a decision will be delivered.”

I sink far down into my seat again. It feels like I’m hanging over a cliff, a gap in time and space, my feet kicking desperately.

Stella is guided out through the basement door along with Michael, to avoid confronting the crowd of journalists and photographers that have gathered in the hallways of the courthouse.

People in the gallery are crowding each other, shoving and muttering, eager to get out. Meanwhile, I gather my belongings. My purse, coat, shawl.

Adam tells me to hurry up. I don’t know why he’s in such a rush.

When I stand up, it’s as if all of my blood pools in my feet. I can’t feel my own body, my head, my arms. I lose my balance and fall back into my seat.

My hand on my heart, I sit there like I’ve cracked down the middle and concentrate on breathing.

Adam takes my hand and helps me to my feet again. He tenderly leads me out of the room. My legs are heavy; the air is thick. We walk through the corridor, past all the curious faces and voices.

“I need something cold to drink,” I say, pointing at the vending machine in the corner.

I paw through my purse for some change. My hand is trembling; I dig and dig. I bring up a pack of gum and some hair ties and toss them on the floor. My hand keeps moving until everything in my purse is rotating like it’s in a cement mixer.

“Take it easy!” Adam says, grasping my arm.

My purse falls to the floor and I stand in front of the flashing vending machine, a quivering mess. Adam hands me two gold ten-kronor coins and fishes my bag from the floor.

“What just happened in there, honey?”

I know I have to explain it all to Adam, and soon. I don’t know whether I can.

“The court will deliberate,” I say, sipping the water.

“How long will that take?”

I look at him. My heart is one big, throbbing wound. What have I done to my family?

“I don’t know,” I say. “It could take anywhere from five minutes to several hours.”

Adam looks around in bewilderment.

“I don’t understand. Was Amina the one…?”

I put a finger to his lips.

“I love you,” I say, taking his hand.

It comes straight from my heart.

Adam and Stella are everything to me. I know Stella and I are everything to him.

“I love you too,” he says.

I hold his hand. No, I squeeze it, embrace it, cling to it.

I have to tell him.





108


For a long time I feared that Adam would give away the whole thing. He would never allow me to carry out my plan if he knew what was going on. It was uncharacteristic enough that he had likely hidden the bloody blouse and then lied to the police about what time it was when Stella had returned home. I couldn’t let him find out any further details.

He had begun to suspect Amina that very Saturday. After our lunch at her parents’, he hinted that Amina had been lying about spending Friday night with Stella. I’d been forced to put up several smoke screens.

When we returned home from the police station late Saturday night, I lingered out on the street to speak with Michael, who had given us a ride home. He believed that Stella would soon be released, but I had read the messages on her phone and feared that the situation was quite a bit more complicated than we knew. As we waited for further information, I tried to insinuate to Adam that Stella was in need of an alibi. I couldn’t say too much; he must under no circumstances suspect that I knew more than I was letting on, but I hinted that he was the only one who could exonerate Stella by claiming that she had come home earlier than she actually had done. Of course, I could have lied to the police myself to give Stella an alibi. But the statement would hold much more weight if Adam did it. Who dares to question the honesty of a pastor who has spent his entire life campaigning for the truth?

Furthermore, I strongly preferred not to testify. It wouldn’t be particularly exceptional for me to lie under oath considering everything else I had done; my professional honor no longer exists anyhow. At the same time, it was important for me to follow the entire trial as an onlooker. I wanted to see it all. I suppose it has to do with feeling in control.

It was impossible for me to sleep on that Saturday night; the thoughts tore through my mind like galloping horses, but after a few hours I discovered that Adam was sinking deeper and deeper into his chair. He blinked several times, his head drooping to his shoulder, and I sat perfectly still without making a sound until deep snores came rattling from his throat.

Then I quickly tiptoed up to my office and called Amina. She was agitated and almost incoherent. We decided to meet as soon as we had the opportunity, but that very night she had to call Adam and confess that she had lied. She must not continue to claim she had been with Stella on Friday night.