“Adam? Is that you?”
A single mistake, and she struck immediately. I recognized that shrill voice, the characteristic Betty Boop tone. And sure, if I had to talk to one of the H&M girls, I certainly preferred Benita.
“Hi!” she said, looking at me with a perfect mix of sympathy and delight.
“Hi there,” I said, holding back a sigh.
Benita was the same age as Stella and had started working there at around the same time. She had been over to our house a few times, and I liked her. She was a smart, cheerful, openhearted girl who dreamed of becoming a singer. We had said, half in jest and half seriously, that she should audition for Idol.
Benita threw open her arms, even as I pulled back, and we ended up in an almost-hug.
“I’ve been thinking of you all constantly,” she said. “How is she doing?”
I looked around the store. It seemed quiet; no one was eavesdropping.
“It’s ridiculous,” I said. “There is everything to suggest she’s innocent, yet the prosecutor refuses to release her. It’s almost made me lose faith … in the justice system.”
“I understand,” said Benita. “My cousin was held in jail last summer just because he knew a guy who had shot someone.”
I nodded but didn’t respond. I didn’t understand what that had to do with Stella.
“And it’s so awful how she can’t work here anymore. But of course, I understand our boss’s point of view too. I’m sure lots of customers would have been upset if they recognized Stella, and it would have been, like, bad advertising.”
“Hold on. What do you mean? She lost her job here?”
Benita’s hand flew to her mouth.
“I thought she told you. Malin wrote her days ago.”
“Stella has full restrictions in jail. She’s not allowed to communicate with anyone but her attorney.”
Benita looked over her shoulder.
“I…，” she said, pointing at the registers. “Well, say hi to Stella, anyway. Or, I mean, I hope everything turns out okay.”
“It’s fine,” I said, to spare her.
I didn’t look up even once on my way back to the stairs. There was no sign of Ulrika. Halfway down I had to grab the railing. The air went thick and I saw double. Swaying, I made it down the last few steps. All around me were voices, but everything was blending into an indecipherable slurry of sound. A hand touched my arm, but I shook it off, forced my way between the racks toward the door, and crossed the street in front of honking cars. I bent over outside the window of the tourist bureau and took a deep breath, sure I was seconds away from vomiting.
40
I jogged past the pretty little townhouses along Stora S?dergatan. There was something I had to do, something that couldn’t wait.
I had to get some clarity about what had happened. Had Linda Lokind lied about the abuse, about Christopher Olsen’s tyranny? If so, why did she continue to cling to that lie now that Olsen was dead? And why did she claim, in the interrogation, that she got reality confused with dreams and fantasies? That couldn’t be true.
After my last visit, I’d been sure Linda was hiding something, but at the same time I recognized so much of what she said from other women who had suffered abuse in intimate relationships.
I didn’t believe Linda Lokind was so ill that she couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Maybe it was something she’d made up when she realized the police weren’t taking her accusations seriously. Had she decided to get even with Christopher Olsen on her own instead? It seemed implausible that she would let Olsen get off, after what he had done.
But why had she mentioned Stella? Did she know something about Stella, or had she just read a bunch of nonsense online?
The questions were piling up. I had to know; I couldn’t wait.
I was only doing what was right, what would be expected of any father in my situation.
I stopped outside the door to her building on Tullgatan. I have no clear memory of how I got inside, but I repeatedly chanted a prayer as my feet trod heavily up the stairs.
My God is a just and forgiving God.
I knew I was doing the right thing. A family divided cannot stand. He who does not take care of his own family has abandoned his faith.
Linda Lokind unlocked the door and stuck her nose through the small crack allowed by the security chain.
“You again?”
Her gaze flickered in the dim light of the stairwell.
“May I come in? I just have a few more questions I need answered.”
She observed me, her forehead creased.