A Nearly Normal Family(33)

“Human behavior isn’t always logical.”

“But mostly it is.”

Agnes Thelin took a sheet of paper from her desk.

“Listen to this,” she said, reading aloud. “I think about you 24-7. I want you so much. Or this: You are the handsomest, sexiest being on earth. So freaking glad I met you.”

A clump of disgust slid up my throat. Was she really allowed to do this? It felt so wrong, against the rules—immoral, to say the least.

“These are chat messages Stella sent to Christopher Olsen. We found several more like them on his computer.”

I made fists under the desk and pressed them against my thighs.

“How do you know Stella wrote those? Anyone could have hacked her account.”

Thelin ignored me.

“I know how this must feel, Adam. But it’s going to be okay; we’re going to get through this together.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t have to get through anything. You can go home tonight and hug your boys. My daughter is the one who’s locked up in a cell!”

“I know, I know. But the only way to move forward now is to be brave enough to tell the truth. Were you really awake when Stella came home?”

“Yes.”

I fought to keep my breathing calm and slow.

“What time was it then?”

I took a deep breath.

“Quarter to midnight,” I said with as much self-control as I could muster. “Exactly eleven forty-five.”

Agnes Thelin gave a brief nod and pushed her chair back from the desk. The legs of the chair scraped against the linoleum floor. She ended up about a meter away from her desk, where she leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling.

“Adam, Adam,” she said. “I understand why you’re doing this. Perhaps I would do the same.”

I didn’t say anything. She had no idea what it was like to be sitting here.

“Our children mean everything to us,” she went on. “Stella is your little girl. It’s horrible to find out you can’t protect your own child.”

Once again, I thought of Job.

“I’m not out to judge you,” said Agnes Thelin. “But I don’t think this is the right way to go about things. This isn’t right, Adam.”

I closed my eyes. Is it not right to protect your child? Your family? Can it ever be wrong?

“I think we’re done here,” I said, standing up to leave.

Agnes Thelin sighed and stared after me.

I had to get hold of Amina.

I looked up her number and called. After one ring, an automated voice informed me that the number was no longer in service.





30


I hurried toward the arena. The girls’ practice would be over any minute. With any luck I would find Amina there.

Normally, I love walking into the arena. This time, when I pulled open the door and my nostrils filled with the stuffy smell of late summer sweat, all I felt was discomfort. A few teenage boys in their workout clothes were hanging around in the cafeteria, and a woman breezed past me on her way to the parking lot. My discomfort suddenly became overwhelming. The looks, the questions—the fact that everyone knew. Because they did, didn’t they? Everyone had so many opinions, they thought they knew, they had ready-made theories. My brain was clouded and my heart was pounding all the way up in my throat. I couldn’t stand the thought of being forced to encounter people I knew.

I stumbled back out to the bike racks and hid behind a tree. There I stood, my back pressed against its rough trunk, shielded from the world and furious at the situation.

After a while, the girls streamed through the door. Amina’s teammates. I peered out without revealing my hiding spot.

At last Amina came toward the bike rack. She secured her gym bag to the luggage holder and was just about to bend over and unlock her bike when I said hello.

“You scared me!”

She leaped back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I tried to call, but…”

“My phone got stolen.”

She coiled the cable lock in her basket and backed the bike out of the rack.

“Can we have a chat?” I asked.

“I have to go home,” she said without looking at me. “I’m ridiculously busy and school starts in four days.”

“I can walk with you for a bit,” I suggested. “If you walk your bike.”

She sighed and guided her bike with both hands on the handlebars, moving so fast that I had to jog to keep up.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” I asked.

“What? We are talking.”

I followed her onto the pedestrian bridge over Ringv?gen. Amina’s eyes were fixed on a point far ahead and she was still striding at full speed.

“Do you know something, Amina?”

She didn’t respond.

“Please, you have to tell me everything,” I said.

“I don’t know anything!” she snapped. “I told the police everything.”

I took a few quick steps and came up alongside her.

“You knew that Stella was spending time with Christopher Olsen, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said curtly as we walked into City Park.

“Were they a couple? Did Stella have a relationship with that man?”