Read Online A Conspiracy of Faith by Jussi Adler-Olsen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jussi Adler-Olsen
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surfaces, and very little else.
She opened the built-in cupboards one by one, staring in at what amounted to nothing. Had the cupboards been hers, she would have been overwhelmed by tearstained diaries and accumulated mementoes, collected and saved to remind her of happy days in the company of friends.
But on the shelves here were only a few books piled up in small stacks. Books to do with work. Books on firearms and policing, that sort of thing. And then a pile on religious sects. On the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Children of God, the Mormons, and others she had never heard of. Odd, she thought briefly, before standing on tiptoe to see whatever might be on the top shelves.
There was hardly a thing.
She opened the desk drawers one by one. Apart from a gray sharpening stone of the kind her father always used to hone his fishing knife, nothing caught her attention. The drawers contained paper, rubber stamps, and a couple of unopened boxes of floppy disks for the computer, the kind no one used anymore.
She closed the door behind her, all her emotions frozen. At this moment she knew neither her husband nor herself. It was frightening and unreal at the same time. Like nothing she had experienced before.
She felt the child’s head loll on her shoulder, his breath steady against her neck.
“Oh, Mummy’s little boy. Did you fall asleep?” she whispered as she laid him down in his cot. She had to be careful not to lose control now. Everything had to proceed as normal.
She picked up the phone and called the day care. “Benjamin has a cold; it wouldn’t be fair to the others if I brought him in today. Sorry for leaving it so late,” she said mechanically, forgetting to say thanks when the day-care assistant wished him a speedy recovery.
That done, she turned toward the landing and stared at the narrow door between her husband’s office and their bedroom. She had helped him lug box upon box of stuff up the stairs into that little room. The main difference between the two of them had been one of ballast. She had come from her student accommodation with an absolute minimum of lightweightfurniture from IKEA, whereas he came with everything he had amassed during the twenty years that made up the age gap between them. That was why their home was a jumble of furniture styles from different periods, and the room behind the door was filled with packing cases whose contents remained a mystery to her.
She almost lost heart as soon as she opened the door and peered inside. Though the room was less than a meter and a half in width, the space was still sufficient to contain packing cases stacked three wide and four high. She managed to peer over the top and could see the Velux skylight at the other end. In total, there were at least fifty boxes.
“Mainly stuff belonging to my parents and grandparents,” he had said. A lot of it could be chucked out once they got sorted. He was an only child, so no one else would kick up a fuss.
She stood staring at the wall of boxes, feeling overwhelmed. It wouldn’t make sense to keep a charger in there. This was a room for the past.
But then again…Her eyes settled on the overcoats that had been thrown into a heap on top of the rearmost boxes. Were they covering something? Might what she was looking for be hidden underneath?
She reached as far as she could but to no avail. Eventually, she pulled herself up onto the cardboard mountain, dug in with her knees, and managed to crawl forward a little. She tugged at the coats, only to discover with disappointment that they concealed nothing. And then her knee went through the lid of the packing case on which most of her weight was resting.
Shit, she thought to herself. Now he would know she had been up to something.
She wriggled backward, pulled the flap up, and noted that no damage had been done.
That was when she saw the newspaper cuttings inside. They weren’t that old, hardly something her husband’s parents had been saving. It was odd
She opened the built-in cupboards one by one, staring in at what amounted to nothing. Had the cupboards been hers, she would have been overwhelmed by tearstained diaries and accumulated mementoes, collected and saved to remind her of happy days in the company of friends.
But on the shelves here were only a few books piled up in small stacks. Books to do with work. Books on firearms and policing, that sort of thing. And then a pile on religious sects. On the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Children of God, the Mormons, and others she had never heard of. Odd, she thought briefly, before standing on tiptoe to see whatever might be on the top shelves.
There was hardly a thing.
She opened the desk drawers one by one. Apart from a gray sharpening stone of the kind her father always used to hone his fishing knife, nothing caught her attention. The drawers contained paper, rubber stamps, and a couple of unopened boxes of floppy disks for the computer, the kind no one used anymore.
She closed the door behind her, all her emotions frozen. At this moment she knew neither her husband nor herself. It was frightening and unreal at the same time. Like nothing she had experienced before.
She felt the child’s head loll on her shoulder, his breath steady against her neck.
“Oh, Mummy’s little boy. Did you fall asleep?” she whispered as she laid him down in his cot. She had to be careful not to lose control now. Everything had to proceed as normal.
She picked up the phone and called the day care. “Benjamin has a cold; it wouldn’t be fair to the others if I brought him in today. Sorry for leaving it so late,” she said mechanically, forgetting to say thanks when the day-care assistant wished him a speedy recovery.
That done, she turned toward the landing and stared at the narrow door between her husband’s office and their bedroom. She had helped him lug box upon box of stuff up the stairs into that little room. The main difference between the two of them had been one of ballast. She had come from her student accommodation with an absolute minimum of lightweightfurniture from IKEA, whereas he came with everything he had amassed during the twenty years that made up the age gap between them. That was why their home was a jumble of furniture styles from different periods, and the room behind the door was filled with packing cases whose contents remained a mystery to her.
She almost lost heart as soon as she opened the door and peered inside. Though the room was less than a meter and a half in width, the space was still sufficient to contain packing cases stacked three wide and four high. She managed to peer over the top and could see the Velux skylight at the other end. In total, there were at least fifty boxes.
“Mainly stuff belonging to my parents and grandparents,” he had said. A lot of it could be chucked out once they got sorted. He was an only child, so no one else would kick up a fuss.
She stood staring at the wall of boxes, feeling overwhelmed. It wouldn’t make sense to keep a charger in there. This was a room for the past.
But then again…Her eyes settled on the overcoats that had been thrown into a heap on top of the rearmost boxes. Were they covering something? Might what she was looking for be hidden underneath?
She reached as far as she could but to no avail. Eventually, she pulled herself up onto the cardboard mountain, dug in with her knees, and managed to crawl forward a little. She tugged at the coats, only to discover with disappointment that they concealed nothing. And then her knee went through the lid of the packing case on which most of her weight was resting.
Shit, she thought to herself. Now he would know she had been up to something.
She wriggled backward, pulled the flap up, and noted that no damage had been done.
That was when she saw the newspaper cuttings inside. They weren’t that old, hardly something her husband’s parents had been saving. It was odd
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