A Nearly Normal Family(40)

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “We can’t let this ruin things between us too. It’s hard enough as it is.”

She had made reservations at Spisen and wondered if we could meet for dinner.

My pulse calmed and I walked slowly past the cathedral. The park benches were full of students sipping Frappuccinos in the late summer sun. Japanese tourists with cameras around their necks and pigeons around their feet were pointing up in fascination at the spires straining toward the sky.



* * *



It was sheer coincidence that I ran into Jenny Jansdotter a bit later outside Market Hall. She would later claim that I had followed her somehow, but that was utter nonsense. In fact, I was on my way to Spisen when I caught sight of Jansdotter in front of me. Those twiggy, bowed legs; that springy walk, like she was bouncing forth on her high heels. She was so petite that if it weren’t for the heels, the blazer, and the expensive purse over her shoulder you might have mistaken her for a child.

Michael Blomberg’s words echoed through my head—Jenny Jansdotter was leading the preliminary investigation. She was the one who guided the actions of the police, who, according to Blomberg, had focused all the attention on Stella as the perpetrator. Why? Was she so absorbed in her work that she’d forgotten real people with real emotions would be affected by her decisions? How could she refuse us the opportunity to see our own child? What kind of person would do something like that? I was honestly curious, and when I saw her crossing Botulfsplatsen I couldn’t stop myself. I caught up to her just outside the west entrance to Market Hall.

“Excuse me. Excuse me!”

She whirled around. I think it took a second or two for her to realize who I was.

“This is highly inappropriate,” she said.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

She didn’t even respond. She whipped back around so quickly that her purse was flung out from her body, and she headed once more for the glass doors of Market Hall.

“Why aren’t you investigating Linda Lokind?” I asked, starting after her. “Did you know Lokind has a pair of shoes just like the ones you’re looking for?”

She hurried into the building and I had to raise my voice.

“Why can’t we see our daughter?”

The prosecutor stopped short and eyed me, cold and impartial.

“You’re making yourself guilty of unlawful influence.”

“Not at all. I just want to understand why you’re doing this.”

Jenny Jansdotter shook her head and turned around. In the police report she subsequently filed, she claimed that at that moment I grabbed her arm and tried to stop her. Naturally, this is not true. In reality, I only reached out my hand in one last desperate attempt to make her listen. I did brush her arm, I won’t deny that, but I would never have dreamed of preventing her from leaving.

“You’re ruining our lives!” I called after her.

People nearby had stopped what they were doing. A forest of curious faces, breathless murmurs, and burning eyes. I put up one hand to hide my face and hurried back out to the sidewalk, toward the cinema.

Later on, the police would question at least ten people, but not a single one of them could corroborate Jenny Jansdotter’s story.





37


Ulrika was waiting for me at a window table at Spisen. I sat down right next to her and she rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not ourselves.”

“I love you,” I said.

I felt it so clearly throughout my body. The slightest thought of a future without Ulrika burned painfully.

“Come to Stockholm with me,” she said. “There’s nothing more we can do here right now. You know I would never, ever abandon Stella, but we’re not even allowed to see her. It makes no difference to her if we’re here in Lund or somewhere else. We have to think of ourselves as well. I’ve seen lots of parents in our situation, families ripped apart by this sort of thing.”

She was right. As long as Stella was locked up with full restrictions, there was nothing we could do. The worst thing that could happen was if Ulrika and I were driven apart.

“What do you think will happen to Stella?”

“I don’t know, but the prosecutor seems determined to bring an indictment.”

I pictured Jenny Jansdotter. Should I mention to Ulrika that I’d run into her?

“What do you think happened that night?” I asked.

Ulrika stiffened.

“I don’t know … I can’t…”

“Haven’t you even considered it?”

“Considered what?” she asked, even though she must have known exactly what I meant.

“The thought that … it might have been … that Stella did … something?”

Deep down I wanted her to say no. It would have been fine with me if she’d flown into a rage and demanded to know how I could allow myself to think such a thing. Better that I was losing my mind than to find that there might be good reason to doubt.

“Of course I’ve entertained those thoughts. Of course I have—but I refuse to allow them to take root.”

It sounded so simple. Too simple.

“There is quite a bit of circumstantial evidence,” she said. “But overall, the evidence is weak.”