Marianne Kleive,
His last few words were so loud that they both gave a start, then instinctively sat still as they listened for signs that Kristiane might have woken up. The only thing they could hear was the sound of
‘Because they believe,’ she said. ‘Because they believe in God.’
‘What?’
‘Or Allah.’
‘Because they believe – so what?’
He seemed more interested now. Or perhaps just confused.
‘Because they believe, they don’t kill blindly,’ Johanne said. ‘They believe with a sincerity which is probably alien to most people. They’re fanatical, but they have a deep faith. Taking the lives of adults who in their view are sinners who must be punished with death in accordance with a God-given imperative is something completely different from killing an innocent child.’
She spoke very slowly, as if these thoughts were new to her, and she therefore had to choose her words with the greatest care.
Adam’s expression was no longer so dismissive when he asked: ‘But these people, these groups, are they really… are they really religious? Aren’t they just lost souls using God and Allah as some kind of… pretext?’
‘No,’ said Johanne, shaking her head. ‘Never underestimate the power of faith. And in some ways my theory is made more credible because…’
She lifted her feet on to the sofa and grabbed hold of one of them, as if she were cold.
‘… because Kristiane did actually see something. The man who murdered Marianne Kleive presumably realized straight away that Kristiane isn’t like everyone else. If the man who saved her from the tram really is the murderer, at least that incident proved to him that she’s… different. And if there’s one thing that’s more striking about my daughter than anything else, it’s…’
The tears almost spilled over as she looked at Adam.
‘Her innocence,’ she said. ‘She is innocence personified. One of God’s little angels.’
‘The lady helped me,’ Kristiane said quietly from the doorway.
Adam stiffened. Johanne turned her head slowly and looked at her daughter.
‘Did she?’ she whispered.
‘Albertine was asleep,’ said Kristiane. ‘And I wanted to find you, Mum.’
Adam hardly dared breathe.
‘I had to hide from all the people, because I didn’t want to go to bed without you. And then suddenly I came to a door that was open. There were some stairs. I went down the stairs, because I thought you might have been there, and at least there was nobody else around. It was so quiet when I got to the bottom. It was really a cellar, and it wasn’t at all posh. And then the lady was standing at the top of the stairs. “Hello,” said the lady.’
Kristiane was wearing new pyjamas. They were too big and the sleeves came down over her hands. She started tugging at them.
‘I think I’d better go to sleep,’ she said.
‘What did you do when the lady said hello?’ Johanne asked with a smile.
‘I think I’d better go to sleep. Dam-di-rum-ram.’
‘Come over here and be my little girl.’ Adam turned to her at last and gave her a little wave.
‘I’m Daddy’s girl,’ she said. ‘And actually, I’m not a girl any more. I’m a young woman. That’s what Daddy says.’
‘You can be my girl and Daddy’s girl,’ Adam said with a laugh. ‘You always will be. However old you are. Haven’t you heard Grandpa calling Mum his little girl?’
‘Grandpa calls all women his little girl. It’s one of his bad habits. That’s what Granny says.’
‘Come here,’ Johanne whispered. ‘Come to Mum.’
Kristiane walked hesitantly across the floor.
‘She called to me,’ she said, settling down on the sofa between them. ‘She didn’t know my name, because of course she didn’t know me. She just called out “Come here” and then she smiled.’
‘And what happened next?’ said Johanne.
‘Adam,’ Kristiane said in a serious tone of voice. ‘You must weigh…’
She thought quickly.
‘About 230 per cent more than me.’
‘I think that’s exactly what I weigh,’ replied Adam, with an embarrassed glance in Johanne’s direction. ‘But I kind of wanted to keep that as my little secret.’
‘I weigh thirty-one kilos, Mum. So you can work it out.’
‘I’d rather hear what happened, sweetheart.’
‘The lady called me and I went back up the stairs. She had really warm hands. But I’d lost one of my slippers.’
‘Slippers?’ said Adam. ‘I thought you weren’t wearing any-’
‘Did the lady go back to fetch it?’ Johanne quickly interrupted.
‘Yes.’
‘And where were you in the meantime?’
‘Dam-di-rum-ram. Where’s Sulamit?’
‘Sulamit died, sweetheart. You know that.’
‘The lady was dead, too. Dam-di-rum-ram.’
Adam held her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
‘I’m so sorry I ran over Sulamit,’ he whispered. ‘But it was a long time ago.’
‘Dam-di-rum-ram.’
She had drawn her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs as she slowly rocked from side to side. She bumped into Johanne, paused for a moment, bumped into Adam. Over and over again.
‘Let’s get you to bed,’ Johanne said eventually.
‘Dam-di-rum-ram.’
‘Off we go.’
She got up and took her daughter’s hand. Kristiane happily went with her. Adam reached out to her, but she didn’t see him. He sat there listening to Johanne’s patient small talk and Kristiane’s strange chatter.
It struck him that realizing Johanne was right was almost worse than the fact that Kristiane had witnessed something traumatic. Overcome with fatigue, he sank back against the cushions.
He had believed what Johanne told him, but not what she thought it implied. Once upon a time he had cynically drawn her to him precisely because of her judgement. Because he needed it. He had drawn her into an investigation she really didn’t want to get involved in by forcing her to imagine every parent’s nightmare. Children were being kidnapped and murdered, and he was completely at a loss. It was Johanne’s unique experiences with the FBI and her sharp eye for human behaviour that solved the case and saved a little girl’s life. He had fallen in love with Johanne for many reasons, but whenever he thought back to the time after the dramatic search for the missing child, it was Johanne’s ability to combine intellect and intuition, rationality and emotion that had attracted him with a power he had never experienced before.
Johanne was the perfect blend of sense and sensibility.
But this time – so many difficult years later – he just hadn’t believed in her.
The feeling of shame made him close his eyes.
‘Now do you believe me?’
Her tone wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t even reproachful. On the contrary, she sounded relieved. It made him feel even smaller.
‘I believed you all along,’ he mumbled. ‘I just thought that-’
‘Let’s forget it,’ said Johanne, sitting down beside him. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I don’t know. I have no idea. The best thing might be to wait. She talked to you on Monday, and to us just now. We should probably wait until she decides to tell us more.’
‘There’s no guarantee she ever will.’
