Rites of Spring, Anders Motte [reading diary .TXT] 📗

one hand on hers. His long fingers are ice-cold.

‘You’re still my little girl, Jenny, in spite of everything. Whether you like it or not.’

She slowly withdraws her hands.

‘And if I do it, you’ll leave me and David in peace?’

He winks at her. ‘Maybe. You’ll just have to trust me, Jenny. You don’t have a choice.’

She goes through the scenario in her head. A petition for a reprieve is presumably a matter of public interest, a traceable document that will reveal that she’s his daughter, even if he keeps his word. She needs to play for time. Time to think things over, work out a plan.

He’s leaning back on his chair again, watching her carefully.

‘If . . .’ She clears her throat. ‘If I agree to consider it, I want a favour in return. Proof that I can trust you.’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘What makes you think you have the right to ask for anything?’

‘Because I’m your only option. Who else is going to give them your sob story? Ronny?’

He stiffens, narrows his eyes.

‘Are you trying to blackmail me, little Jenny?’

‘No, I just want your help with something.’ Now it’s her turn to lean forward. ‘In 1986 a girl was killed in the forest by the castle where we live. Her stepbrother confessed and was convicted of murder. His name is Leo Rasmussen.’

‘And why does this interest you?’

‘Because I don’t believe the whole truth has come out.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘She was pregnant, but someone made sure that information was removed from the case file.’

‘Aha – so things ended badly for a pregnant young girl. I can see the appeal. Go on.’

Thea swallows her irritation.

‘There is also a suggestion that the stepbrother retracted his confession. He claimed that the police had put him under extreme pressure, brainwashed him.’

Her father continues to gaze at her with that annoying smile, making it clear that he’s enjoying himself at her expense.

‘So what do you want my help with?’

‘I’d like to find out whether any of your friends knows someone who might have been in jail with Leo. Whether he talked about the murder when he was inside. Where he went after he got out.’

Her father chews his lower lip, keeping her in suspense.

‘Why should I waste my time on this, little Jenny? I’m the one who’s holding the trump card. I can crush you like a louse if you don’t do exactly as I ask.’

He taps his index finger on the table, just like he used to do when he wanted to scare her.

‘Be a good girl and do what Daddy says, then I might consider forgiving you for what you did. For abandoning your own family.’

She looks down, eyes burning with anger. She has to submit. Let him walk all over her if she’s going to have any chance of sorting out this tangled mess. Because nobody fucks with Leif Boman.

She takes a deep breath, suddenly remembers what Ronny said just before she left. It’s worth a try.

‘By the way, what happened to Jocke?’

Her father becomes very still, apart from his eyes, which are darting from side to side for the first time during this conversation.

‘Jocke’s dead. He died in ’96.’

‘How?’

He shuffles in his seat.

‘How did Jocke die?’ She’s determined to push him.

‘Car accident. He tried to get away from the cops in a stolen car, high as a kite. They crashed into a truck.’

It takes a few seconds for her to process what he’s just said. They. Before she realises why Ronny handed her this tiny piece of kryptonite.

‘Who else was in the car with Jocke?’

Leif’s lips are a thin white line.

‘His girlfriend, Jossan. She was pregnant. None of them survived.’

She can see the rest in his eyes. The logical conclusion to this tale.

It could have been me in that car with Jocke. It probably would have been if I hadn’t left. Me and our child. Leif’s grandchild.

They sit in silence for a few seconds.

‘OK,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll ask around about Leo Rasmussen. Do you have an ID number or anything else I can use?’

‘I’ve got the case file in the car if you want to read it.’

It’s a throwaway remark. She isn’t expecting him to bite, but he does.

‘Good. Ask Sigurdsson in the guards’ office to make a copy. Tell him I said so, if he complains. And leave a phone number where I can reach you.’

He gets to his feet laboriously, then stands beside her as he did when he came into the room.

‘You’re not trying to fool me again, are you, Jenny?’

‘Maybe, maybe not. You’ll just have to trust me, Leif. You don’t have a choice.’

The corner of his mouth twitches. A tic, perhaps, or the hint of a smile.

‘You haven’t changed, Jenny,’ he says as he shuffles towards the door.

55

‘What shall I do now, Margaux? I so wish you were here. To help me, give me advice.’

It is gone ten o’clock at night when Thea pulls up outside the castle. Two cars are parked by the stone steps – Nettan’s and Sebastian’s. Thea’s head is empty, she feels completely flat and doesn’t want to talk to anyone.

Emee is restless after the long drive, so she takes her for a walk, following the path to the castle garden as usual. There are lights on in the dining room, and one of the doors leading onto the terrace is wide open. She can hear the sound of angry voices, and can’t help edging closer. She creeps up the steps, trying to keep both herself and Emee in the shadows.

All three of them are sitting around a table crowded with wine bottles, plates and glasses, but the atmosphere is far from festive. David is red-faced, gesticulating wildly. Sebastian is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. Nettan’s expression is determined.

Thea moves a little nearer to the open door.

‘You can’t go on like this,’ Nettan says. ‘Sebastian and I are not made of money. We have a budget, and we expect you to stick to it.’

‘Fuck