The Crow Girl (33 page)

Sofia clears her throat.

‘Can you trust that he’s telling the truth and not just trying to make himself look important? Didn’t you say he was trying to bargain?’

Jeanette folds her arms and rocks on her chair. She doesn’t take her eyes off Sofia’s.

‘That’s exactly what I’m wondering. But there’s something believable about his story. Details that make it sound credible.’

She leans forward and lowers her voice slightly.

‘Admittedly, his description is extremely vague. A fair-haired woman, a bit above average height, blue eyes. He said he thought she was attractive, maybe a bit more attractive than most, he said. But otherwise that could describe any number of people. I mean, it could even be you.’

Smile.

Sofia laughs and pulls a face to show what a ridiculous idea she thinks that is.

‘I can see you’re not feeling too good,’ Jeanette says. ‘Maybe it would be best if you went home.’

‘Yes … I think so.’

‘Get some rest. I can come over to your place after work.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘Definitely. Go home to bed now. I’ll bring some wine. Does that sound OK?’

Jeanette gives Sofia a long look.

THE METRO FROM
Rådhuset to Central Station, then change to the green line to Medborgarplatsen. Then the same walk as a couple of hours before, just the opposite direction. Folkungagatan, four blocks, then home. One hundred and twelve steps.

When she gets home she puts the CD she’d copied into her laptop.

‘First interview with Bengt Bergman. The time is 13.12. Lead interviewer Jeanette Kihlberg, assisted by Jens Hurtig. Bengt, you’re a suspect in a number of crimes, but this interview is primarily concerned with rape and/or aggravated rape, as well as bodily harm and/or grievous bodily harm, which carries a minimum sentence of two years in prison. Shall we begin?’

‘Hmm …’

‘Can I ask you to speak clearly into the microphone from now on? Obviously if you nod it can’t be heard on the recording. We want you to express yourself as clearly as possible. OK. Let’s begin.’

There’s a brief pause, and Sofia can hear someone drinking, then putting a glass down on the table.

‘How does it feel, Bengt?’

‘To begin with, I’m wondering what sort of formal training you’ve had?’

She recognises her dad’s voice immediately.

‘What makes you competent to question me? I’ve done more than eight years of higher education, I’ve got a degree, and I’ve studied a fair bit of psychology on my own. Do you know Alice Miller?’

His voice makes Sofia start, and she pulls back automatically, raising her arms to shield herself.

Even as an adult her body is so primed that it reacts instinctively. The adrenalin is pumping, and her body is ready for flight.

‘Bengt, you have to understand that I’m the one leading this interview, not you. Is that clear?’

‘I don’t really know –’

Jeanette Kihlberg interrupts him at once. ‘I said, is that clear?’

‘Yes.’

Sofia understands that his defiance is because he’s still used to being in charge and feels uncomfortable in the role of the accused.

‘I asked how you think it feels?’

‘Well, what do you think? How would you like to sit here, falsely accused of a whole lot of revolting things?’

‘I’d probably think it was awful, and do anything I could to try to get things sorted out. Is that how you feel? That you want to tell us why you were arrested?’

‘As I’m sure you already know, I was stopped by the police south of the city, when I was on my way home to Grisslinge. That’s where we live, out in Värmdö. I’d picked up that woman who was standing at the side of the road, covered in blood. My only intention was to help her, and get her to Södermalm Hospital so she could get proper treatment. That can’t be a punishable offence, surely?’

His voice, his way of pronouncing his words, the pauses and his forced calm make her feel like she’s ten years old again.

‘So you’re saying you’re innocent of causing the injuries to the plaintiff, Tatiana Achatova, as documented on the charge sheet you’ve already read?’

‘This is utterly ridiculous!’

‘Do you feel like reading what it says on the sheet?’

‘Let’s get this straight – I abhor violence. I never watch television except for the news, and on the rare occasions that I do watch a film or go to the cinema, I choose quality films. I simply don’t wish to have anything to do with the wickedness that’s so widespread in this –’

The feeling of the pine-needle-strewn path down to the lake. She had already learned as a six-year-old how to touch him so that he was nice, and she remembers the taste of Aunt Elsa’s sweets. The cold water from the well, and the stiff brush on her skin.

Jeanette Kihlberg interrupts him again. ‘Do you want to read it, or shall I?’

‘Well, I’d rather you did. Like I said, I don’t want to –’

‘According to the doctor who examined Tatiana Achatova, she was admitted to Södermalm Hospital on Sunday evening at approximately 1900 hours, with the following injuries: severe ruptures in her anus, as well as …’

It’s as if they’re talking about her, and she remembers the pain.

How much it had hurt, even though he had said it was lovely.

How confused she had been when she realised what she did with him was wrong.

Sofia can’t bear to hear any more and turns it off.

His terrible deeds have evidently caught up with him at last, she thinks. But he won’t be punished for what he did to me. That’s not fair. I’m forced to survive with my scars while he can just go on and on.

Sofia lies down on the floor and stares up at the ceiling. She just wants to sleep. But how can she?

Her name is Victoria Bergman, and he is still there.

Bengt Bergman. Her dad. He is still alive.

And no more than twenty minutes away from her.

When they hug, Sofia can tell that Jeanette has showered and smells of a different perfume to earlier. They go into the living room, and Jeanette puts a wine box on the coffee table.

‘Sit yourself down. I’ll get some glasses. I’m assuming you’d like some?’

‘Yes, please. It’s been a hell of a week.’

Get the carafe. Fill it up with wine. Fill the glass.

Sofia pours some wine.

Read the situation. Ask something personal.

Sofia notices how moist Jeanette’s eyes are, and realises it’s not just tiredness.

‘How are you doing? You look sad.’

Eye contact. Show sympathy. Maybe a little smile.

She looks Jeanette in the eye and gives her an understanding smile.

Jeanette looks down at the table without speaking. ‘Fucking Åke,’ she suddenly blurts out. ‘I think he’s in love with that gallery owner. How stupid can you get? To be honest I don’t know if I even care. I’m sick of him.’ Jeanette takes a deep breath. ‘What’s that smell?’

Sofia thinks of the glass jars in the kitchen, of Gao behind the bookcase, and at the same time detects the acrid stench of chemicals filling the flat.

‘Something to do with the drains. The neighbours are renovating their bathroom.’

Jeanette looks sceptical, but seems satisfied with the explanation.

Steer the conversation onto a different subject.

‘Have you heard anything more about Lundström? Or is he still in a coma?’

‘He is. But it doesn’t really change anything. The prosecutor has got hung up on his medication and all that … Well, you know …’

‘Have you checked out what Spider-Man told you?’

‘You mean Petter Christoffersson? No, we haven’t got any further with that. I don’t really know what to think. If I’m honest, I think he was mainly interested in my breasts.’ She laughs, and it’s infectious.

Sofia feels relieved.

‘Did you get much of an impression of him?’

‘Just the usual, I suppose. Full of complexes, insecure, fixated on sex,’ Jeanette begins. ‘Probably violent, at least when it comes to things that are important to him. And by that I mean everything that goes against his wishes or questions his ideology. He’s definitely not unintelligent, but his intelligence is destructive and seems to be self-defeating.’

‘You sound like a psychologist.’ Sofia sips her wine. ‘And I have to confess that I’m a bit curious about your diagnosis of the young man …’

Jeanette sits quietly for a while before going on with exaggerated seriousness. ‘Suppose Petter Christoffersson is forced to interpret the meaning of an unclear situation. Let’s say his girlfriend has spent the night at a male friend’s. He’s going to see it as a betrayal, and will always choose the interpretation he finds most negative to himself and everyone involved, specifically that she’s been unfaithful –’

‘Whereas she actually slept alone on her friend’s sofa –’ Sofia interjects.

‘But,’ Jeanette goes on, ‘spending the night at a friend’s is the same to him as fucking the friend, in every position his imagination can come up with –’

Jeanette stops herself and lets Sofia go on.

‘And afterwards they’d have talked about what a moron he is, sitting at home and not suspecting a thing.’

They burst out laughing, and when Jeanette falls back on the sofa Sofia catches sight of a brownish-red spot on the pale upholstery. She quickly grabs a cushion and playfully tosses it to Jeanette, who catches it and, thankfully, puts it down beside her, hiding the spot of Samuel’s blood.

‘God, you sound like you could be one of my colleagues. Are you sure you’ve never studied psychology?’

Jeanette looks almost embarrassed.

‘And what do you think about the woman he says he saw?’

‘I think he saw a fair-haired, attractive woman with Samuel. He reckons he even stared at her backside. He’s young and has sex on his mind all the time. Register, stare, register, stare, fantasise and then masturbate.’ Jeanette laughs. ‘But on the other hand, I don’t think it was the same woman he delivered building materials to.’

Seem interested.

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘This is a guy who only sees a woman’s chest or her backside. All women become one and the same.’

She drinks the last of her wine and refills her glass.

They sit in silence for a while just looking at each other. Sofia likes Jeanette’s eyes. Their gaze is firm, curious. They reveal how intelligent she is. But there’s something else as well. Courage, character. It’s hard to put a finger on what it is.

Sofia realises she is growing more and more fascinated by her. Within the space of ten minutes all of Jeanette’s feelings and characteristics have been visible in her eyes. Happiness. Self-confidence. Intelligence. Sorrow. Disappointment. Doubt. Frustration.

In another time, another place, she thinks. All she has to do is make sure that Jeanette doesn’t catch sight of her darkness. She must hold it back whenever they meet, and Jeanette must never meet Victoria Bergman.

But she and Victoria are shackled to each other like Siamese twins and, as a result, also dependent on each other.

They share the same heart, and the blood flowing through their bodies is the same blood. But while Victoria despises Sofia’s weakness, Sofia admires Victoria for her strength. And feels inferior to her.

She recalls how she used to shut herself away inside when anyone teased her. The way she used to eat her food up like a good girl and let him touch her.

She had adapted, which Victoria had never been able to do.

Victoria had hidden herself away deep within.

Victoria had waited and bided her time. Waiting for the moment when Sofia was forced to let her out to stop herself from sinking.

If she had just looked inside herself she would have found the strength. But instead she had tried to erase Victoria from her memory. For decades, Victoria had tried to get Sofia to realise that it was she rather than Sofia who held the key, and very occasionally Sofia had actually listened.

Like when she got the whining boy down by the river to shut up.

Like when she took care of Lasse.

Sofia can feel her headache easing, as the rubber band of her conscience stretches closer and closer to the breaking point. She feels that she’d like to tell Jeanette everything. Tell her how her father abused her. Describe the nights when she didn’t dare sleep in case he would then come into her room. The schooldays when she couldn’t stay awake.

She wants to tell Jeanette how it feels to wolf down food and then vomit it up. To feel the pain of a razor blade.

She wants to tell her everything.

Then suddenly Victoria’s voice comes back.

‘You’ll have to excuse me, but the wine’s had an effect and I have to go to the toilet.’

Sofia gets up and feels the alcohol rush to her head, and she giggles and steadies herself on Jeanette, who responds by putting her hand over hers.

‘Sofia …’ Jeanette looks up at her. ‘I’m really glad I’ve met you. It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in … well, I don’t know how long.’

Sofia stops, overwhelmed by the sign of affection.

‘What happens to us when we don’t have to meet any more? Because of work, I mean.’

Smile. Answer honestly.

Sofia smiles. ‘I think we can continue seeing each other anyway.’

Jeanette goes on. ‘I might like you to meet Johan some day. You’d like him.’

Sofia stiffens. Johan?

She’d completely forgotten that there are other people in Jeanette’s life.

‘Did you say he was thirteen?’ she says.

‘That’s right. He’s starting secondary school this autumn.’

Martin would have been thirty this year.

If his parents hadn’t happened upon an advertisement for a house for rent in Dala-Floda.

If he hadn’t wanted to go on the Ferris wheel.

If he hadn’t changed his mind and wanted to go swimming instead.

If he hadn’t thought the water was too cold.

If he hadn’t fallen in the water.

Sofia thinks about how Martin disappeared after their turn on the Ferris wheel.

She looks deep into Jeanette’s eyes as she hears Victoria’s voice inside her head.