I biked to the arena to meet up with Amina after practice. It was starting to get dark but City Park was still full of people enjoying the summer warmth. Someone was singing and playing guitar; one group was playing soccer; some people seemed to be on dates.
Near the indoor pool, a mother duck came waddling along, her babies trailing behind her. I braked and stepped off my bike so they could pass safely.
As I stood there, grinning at the ducklings’ wobbly journey across the gravel path, I heard steps approaching behind me. I moved my bike to the side, carefully, to keep from scaring the ducks.
“Please, listen to me.”
When I turned around, I found Linda Lokind standing two meters behind me.
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “Leave me alone. There is nothing serious between me and Chris. You can take it easy.”
She looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.
“I know all about you,” I said. “You need help. Medication or something. If you don’t leave me alone this instant, I don’t know what I might do.”
I was being loud. I didn’t care that people nearby could hear.
“Of course,” said Linda. “Chris says I’m sick. A mental case, right?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not just Chris. The police didn’t believe you either. And I’ve met your old friend Beatrice.”
Linda’s hand flexed and landed near her pants pocket. She turned aside so I couldn’t see what she was doing. Did she have something in her pocket? I started walking, pushing my bike.
“I told you about the girl he cheated with,” Linda said. “I found a text from her on his phone.”
I walked faster, but Linda followed me.
“It was Beatrice, my best friend. He slept with my best friend. Then he brainwashed her. She still believes it was all my fault, that I had some sort of mental breakdown.”
I stopped and turned my bike so it formed a barrier between us.
“You’re lying.”
I couldn’t take this anymore. Chris and Linda and Beatrice could all go to hell.
“I swear, it’s true.”
“I don’t care,” I said.
A few families had laid out picnics on flowered blankets on the grass nearby. Two girls of about five years old were galloping around on hobby horses, clacking their tongues. One of them looked just like I had at that age.
“One day last winter, I was going to hang a picture in the bedroom,” said Linda. “It had fallen down when Chris threw a bottle of beer at the wall. After I nailed it back up, he walked over and took a look at it. It’s fucking crooked. The nail is crooked. I apologized and promised to fix it right away.”
Her words flowed like blood from an open wound. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the laughing little girls on the lawn.
“I reached for the hammer, but Chris got there first. He threw me down on the bed and swung the hammer through the air. You can’t even hang a fucking picture right!”
My skin was crawling. Linda stood before me as the girls on the lawn shrieked with joy.
“He raped me with the hammer.”
A wave of disgust washed over me.
“That’s enough!”
Linda shoved her hand into her pocket.
“I would like to hurt him. I want him to suffer the same way I did.”
Her cheeks were scarlet; her neck was thrust forward and her eyebrows lowered. She was scaring me.
“I could kill him.”
I got on my bike and set off for the arena. Before Amina even came out from practice I had looked up Chris in my phone and deleted the contact.
75
Michael Blomberg is sitting in front of me in a sky-blue shirt that’s unbuttoned almost to his navel. He places his giant paw of a hand on the table and looks at me as though he’s my dad.
“Why do you want to meet with Agnes Thelin?”
“I’m going to tell.”
“Tell what?”
I shrug.
“What happened.”
He waves his huge hand dismissively.
“Listen. I’ve spoken with Ulrika and we’ve decided you have to keep mum as long as possible.”
I make fists under the table.
“Are you still fucking?”
Blomberg looks like someone has just kicked him in the nuts.
“You don’t have to answer,” I said. “I’d prefer not to know.”
Blomberg runs his hand over his mouth.
“That was a long time ago,” he says quietly. “Before this, I hadn’t seen Ulrika for several years.”
He wipes away the sweat that’s trickling down his neck and behind his ears. Then he lifts his laptop onto the table. He stares at the screen and types noisily at the keys before finally looking at me again.