A Nearly Normal Family(65)

Of course I want to see her. There’s nothing I want more. But Blomberg would never understand.

“Tell the truth. I can’t deal with it.”

He sighs heavily.

“Or else lie,” I suggest. “I’m sure you’re competent enough to come up with a good lie.”

The big lawyer shakes his head.

“I’ve known Ulrika for many years…”

“I know. You know Mom pretty well, right?”

Blomberg stiffens. This isn’t the first time I’ve made such an insinuation, and it won’t be the last. I’m happy to let him wonder. Ignorance is power.

“Do you know Margaretha Olsen too?” I ask.

“I don’t exactly know her. She’s a—”

“Professor.”

He is startled and makes an annoyed grimace.

“Lund is a small…”

“Pond.”

“City,” he says. “Lund is a small city.”

“Does she think I’m guilty too?”

“Who? What?”

“Margaretha Olsen. Does she?”

“I have no idea about that whatsoever,” Blomberg says, scratching behind his ear. “What does it matter? Who cares what people think? The important thing is for us to demonstrate reasonable doubt in court.”

“Is that really the important thing? Then why does it feel like everyone has already made up their minds about what happened?”

“What ‘everyone’ are you talking about?”

“The police, the prosecutor, like, the whole world.”

Blomberg squirms, but sounds as certain as always.

“That’s called confirmation bias. When you have a theory and ignore everything that contradicts it. It’s extremely common. Doesn’t have to be conscious at all. And likely isn’t.”

“But isn’t an investigation supposed to be objective?”

He shrugs.

“We’re talking about human beings here. We’re only human, all of us.”

Then he fingers the black beads of his necklace and seems to brace himself before dropping his little bomb.

“Linda Lokind.”

He waits me out with his gaze.

“What about her?” I ask.

“Do you know her?”

“Not know, exactly. Lund is a small…”

“Pond.”

Blomberg leans back and winks.

“Now tell me, Stella. You have had contact with Linda Lokind, haven’t you?”

“Had contact?” It sounds so formal. “I mean, I know who she is.”

“You do?”

Blomberg nods slowly. The question is, how much does he know?

“I met her once or twice. That’s it.”

“But you know she and Christopher Olsen were together for a few years? They lived together.”

I try to act surprised, but Blomberg hardly seems convinced.

“I’m planning to present Linda Lokind as an alternative perpetrator.”

“What? To the police?”

He nods.

“You can’t do that!”

I feel dizzy and hot. My mind is spinning.

“But it could mean your freedom,” Blomberg says.

Does he believe Linda is the one who killed Chris? I reach for a glass of water and accidentally splash some on the table when I go to pour. Blomberg follows my every movement with interest.

“Linda Lokind filed a police report on Christopher Olsen after they broke up last spring. According to her, Olsen was a real tyrant. But there was no proof, so the investigation was closed pretty quickly. A reasonable motive for revenge, right? And it doesn’t matter whether it was true or not. In Lokind’s mind, Olsen was a violent man who assaulted her in the most horrific ways.”

“In Lokind’s mind? You think she was lying?”

Blomberg waves a hand.

“It doesn’t really matter. There’s still plenty to suggest Lokind as the perpetrator. We’ve dug up quite a bit on her.”

“What do you mean, ‘dug up’? You’re not the police,” I say. “You’re only supposed to defend my rights. Not play investigator.”

He gives me a look that says, oh, sweetie.

“This is how it goes. When the police don’t do their job, we have to fix it for them. It’s not about pointing the finger at Lokind. I just want to make sure there’s reasonable doubt about your guilt.”

I’m sweating hard now. The air in here is stuffy.

“No,” I say. “This isn’t okay. Don’t mix Linda up in this.”

He looks surprised.

“But it might be your salvation, Stella. I’m going to have to talk to your mom.”

“You have to fucking follow confidentiality. I could get you disbarred.”

Blomberg rests his hands on his stomach. It almost looks like he feels sorry for me.

“You have no idea what Ulrika has been through for you.”

“What do you mean?”

He scoots his chair back and stands up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I say.

My mom basically only cares about herself and her career. I was never good enough for her. What could she possibly have had to go through for my sake?