“Have you seen the phone since Stella was apprehended?”
What did this mean? Where could Stella’s phone be, if the police hadn’t found it?
“No,” I replied.
Agnes Thelin let a sigh escape through her nostrils.
“This is important now, Adam. Do you remember what Stella was wearing when she came home Friday night?”
Sweat sprung to my underarms.
“Is this an interrogation? Do I even need to answer your questions?”
Thelin just looked at me.
“I’m useless at that stuff. My wife is always annoyed; I never notice when she buys new clothes.”
Agnes Thelin gave a forced smile.
“But you talked to Stella when she came home? You saw her clothes?”
“Yes, sure.”
“And you didn’t notice anything different? Stains, or something like that?”
I was sweating even more.
“It was dark. I don’t really recall…”
Not remembering, of course, is not the same thing as lying. I was trying to squeeze myself through every loophole I could find. Meanwhile, Thelin paged through her documents, her fingers tense.
“When did you first hear of Christopher Olsen?”
“Last Saturday,” I said honestly. “When I found out you had taken Stella into custody.”
“So you’d never heard his name before?”
I rubbed at my eyes.
“Not that I know of.”
“It’s a simple question, Adam. Had you heard of Olsen before, or not?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
“So Stella never mentioned his name. Did she ever talk about someone who might have been Olsen? A boyfriend? Did you know that she was seeing someone?”
“Stella didn’t have a boyfriend. Ask anyone! As I understand it, she only met up with Christopher Olsen on a few rare occasions. Why would she want to hurt him? It’s not logical.”
“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.
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