‘And then Silje came. Because I hadn’t been on the bus.’
I waited.
‘Then I told her.’
‘And how did she react?’
‘She was scared, of course.’
‘Nevertheless she didn’t say — ’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? It wasn’t her!’
‘No, of course not. But didn’t she say you should ring the police?’
‘Yeah, she said that.’
‘And?’
‘That was when they arrived! I panicked. I didn’t know what they would think, and I was right! I grabbed the rifle and took off with Silje, out the back of the house and up the mountain, towards Trodalen.’ ‘
But the sergeant says you shot at him?’
‘Yes, I did, when he shouted for me to stop! I didn’t want to stop. I knew what they would say, and now… Now I’m sitting here, just as I had feared, accused of something I didn’t do!’
‘But the rifle… you say you grabbed it. The bedroom’s on the first floor, isn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘And you were sitting on the ground floor waiting for something to happen, as you say.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’d taken the rifle downstairs?’
‘I had to have something to defend myself with if they came back!’
‘If they came back! Who came back?’
‘The robbers!’
‘But it was the police who’d come…’
‘Yes! You know the rest. I hid up in Trodalen, together with Silje. I should never have given myself up. I should be sitting up there now… then they would have had to shoot me, if that was what they wanted.’
An eerie silence fell over us. There was something unreal about the whole thing. I found it difficult to visualise. The two dead people, Klaus in bed, Kari by the window, both in a pool of blood. And then the perpetrator… I tried to imagine Silje, but it was hard. Such a young girl… Jan Egil, on the other hand, if he had strong enough reason to do it. But it could easily have been someone else, or several others. Robbers, as he put it. Nothing had been reported stolen, though, and there were no signs of a break-in. What could the motive have been?
The perpetrator, standing by the bed with two dead or dying people in front of them. What was he thinking? Or she? What did they do? Run off? Drive away? Did anyone observe any cars in the yard that night? On their way in or out of the valley? And if it had been Silje or Jan Egil, had she or he just run back to Almelid, gone into the bedroom and cuddled up to the other person without anyone noticing?
Or… could they have been in on it together?
What if Silje was telling the truth — about the motive at any rate? In that case perhaps it wasn’t so strange that she had confided in the person who had become her boyfriend, and who even lived in the house of the possible abuser, although he was not related. Had they conspired, or had he become her avenger, the person who carried out the action she herself could not? In that case Klaus was the target and Kari had the misfortune to be in the same room as him when revenge was exacted; that is, if she hadn’t known what was going on and thus made herself an accomplice, at least in the eyes of the two youngsters.
When they had to give themselves up, Silje did what she could to protect him and assumed all the guilt herself…
Yes, I had to admit it. Until there was proof of anything else, there was a lot going for this version of reality.
I cleared my throat to attract his attention again. He looked up from the table.
‘Listen, Jan Egil. What Silje said last night, when she called Klaus an old pig, we all understand what she meant by that. But even though neither you nor she had anything to do with the murders themselves… could there be anything in it? Could he have tried it on her?’
He shook his head sullenly. ‘Not as far as I could see. She never said anything to me, about stuff like that.’
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s the way it often is. You keep it to yourself for as long as possible. My question was: could he have done it? Could it have happened without your knowing?’
He shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible, I s’pose.’
‘He never tried it on you?’
‘No!’ He looked at me with an expression of horror. ‘What do you think I am?’
‘Sexual abusers are not always bothered about gender. I had to ask. I’m sorry.’
I thought briefly about what the sergeant had proposed. He wanted a confession, he had said. But I had the feeling we were further from that than when I had stepped into the room.
I studied him for a long time, then said tentatively: ‘Something quite different, Jan Egil. Now I would like you to think back ten years.’
His eyes narrowed and he seemed to be holding his breath.
‘That was why it was me you wanted to talk to, I assume. Because you can remember what a great time we had, Cecilie, you and me, the time you had to move from… where you were living at the time.’
He eyed me warily.
‘Can you remember any of what happened at that time?’
He just gawped.
‘I’m thinking of…’ I was unsure as to how far I should go. ‘Do you remember an accident taking place? Your father… fell down the staircase and broke his neck. Your mother said it happened during a row. But at first you and your father were alone at home. Do you remember any of that?’
He pinched his lips together, but made a faint negative movement with his head.
‘Not even that you and your father were alone at home? You were playing with your train, I think.’
For a moment he brightened up. ‘My Marklin train. I’ve still got it!’
‘Exactly. I remember how well it ran.’
‘There was a ring at the door.’
I bent closer and nodded, gestured for him to continue. But he stopped there.
‘There was a ring at the door,’ I repeated.
‘Yes. Someone came in. I heard them quarrelling. But I was playing with my train. I didn’t want to hear!’
‘They were quarrelling? Your mother and father?’
‘It wasn’t her! It was a man. A man’s voice.’
A shudder ran through me. ‘What! What did you say?’
He looked at me in bewilderment. ‘That’s all. I don’t remember any more. Not until I was standing there, at the top of the stairs, and he was lying at the foot. There was a ring at the door, and she let herself in. She screamed out loud. Looked at me horror-stricken, as though I had done it. But it wasn’t me! I always get the blame!’
His eyes were open wide. For a second it was as if he were six and a half again and was going to be told off for something he hadn’t done. ‘The last thing I remember is her scream. Then I remember nothing until we’re at Hans’s place with you and me throwing snowballs.’
‘But why…?’
It suddenly rushed in over me, like a wave reaching the shore all too late. Why didn’t he say anything about this at the time? Why had no one asked him? Or had they, without getting an answer? Had he not told anyone till now? Was I the first person to hear? For a moment my mind went giddy. What would Jens Langeland say to this? I wondered. Should Vibecke Skarnes have been acquitted in 1974? And… did this have any repercussions for this case, ten years later? Did death follow in his footprints, or was this all just a network of coincidences?
I threw out my arms. ‘I don’t know if we’re going to get much further today, Jan Egil. Have you got everything you wanted to say off your chest?’
‘I think so.’ All of a sudden he stretched out one hand and grabbed my wrist hard, the way a drowning man
