ELLEN

8.00 P.M.

The police hadn’t made any progress — their investigations hadn’t led in any particular direction. No tips of any significance had come in, either. Ellen had tried to get hold of Lycke’s parents, the tennis coach, and friends of the family. But no one wanted to talk with the media. She had managed to get in contact with the parents of some of Lycke’s classmates, but no one seemed to know anything. None of the children seemed to be particularly good friends with Lycke; it was as if no one in the class really knew her. The parents were mostly worried about their own children and asked Ellen a lot of questions that she couldn’t answer.

The search parties hadn’t produced any results. Surveillance cameras were reviewed, ticket collectors in the subway were questioned, but without a single trace of Lycke.

It felt like she was walking around in circles while time passed quickly by. She had to try to think along different lines. What was it that she and everyone else were missing?

She had to get out of the office. Do something.

The garage under the TV4 building was practically empty on Sundays, with the exception of a few striped cars that belonged to the news team.

Ellen turned the key and had put the car in reverse when her phone rang. She fished her mobile out of her bag.

Jimmy. He still had the same old number.

She let it ring a few times, thought about how many times she’d hoped he would call her. But this wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Now, it could just as well have read ‘Boss’ on the display.

‘Ellen here.’ She made an effort to sound curt.

‘It’s me. Turn off the car, would you. I’m down here in the garage.’

‘What? Why is that?’ she said, looking around.

But he had already hung up.

Ellen reluctantly turned off the engine. In the rear-view mirror, she saw him purposefully cross over the parking spaces toward her.

Even though she struggled against it, she couldn’t help feeling the tingling sensation as he approached her.

The memory of that last evening forced its way in. They’d been seeing each other sporadically for a couple of months. If Ellen had had her way, she would have had him with her every day, but Jimmy hadn’t wanted things to move too fast. They never went to his place, because he was living with his sister. During all that time, Ellen had never met her, but Jimmy was not a person you pressured or asked intrusive questions. He clearly didn’t want to talk about himself in that way, and even though she was a journalist and knew all the tricks to get someone to talk, it didn’t work with him. And Ellen had been too much in love to dare make any demands.

Actually he was a typical ‘chapter-one person’. She never got past the first chapter. Was never allowed to read any further.

But, still, it had been a marvellous chapter, and she would gladly read it several times, each time becoming more and more interested in reading ahead. She knew that when she got farther into the book, once he let her into his world, he would never let her go. That was how it had seemed, and she’d felt so close to it the whole time.

The way he listened to her. Joked with her. Laughed with her. Touched her in a way that no one had done before. It opened something that was so lovely it almost hurt. As soon as she sensed his smell, her cheeks would flush. He made her completely lose control.

Philip told her he thought that perhaps Jimmy didn’t actually have more than one chapter in his book. That he was mostly a good-looking cover. But he wasn’t. She knew that. There was more between the covers.

That evening, it was as if something had come loose. They had dinner at a neighbourhood restaurant in Old Town, and at first he’d acted strangely. Only spoke to stiffly answer her questions. His gaze wandered, and he almost seemed distracted.

‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked when they got into the elevator at her place. It was almost as though he was distancing himself from her. In retrospect, she now realised that that was exactly what he’d been doing.

‘Come,’ he said, raising her chin. He’d kissed her all the way up to her apartment.

Still in the hall, he pulled off her sweater. Moulded his hands around her breasts. Like she was a precious object, the finest thing he had ever touched.

She was trembling. At last, she stood completely naked in front of him. He kissed her. First on the mouth, then on her neck, and continuing down. He carried her into the bedroom.

He made her let go of everything, It was as if he’d opened her and taken her into his world. As if he couldn’t get enough.

Afterwards they sat by one of the bay windows, wrapped in the down quilt. The window was open, and the cool breeze from the water seeped in. They shared a bottle of wine and smoked a cigarette.

And then Ellen had told him the story she had only shared with a few people. It felt so right, then and there.

Jimmy listened. Took in what she said, seeming not to judge her. Nor did he try to make it appear as if he understood what she felt or how she was doing. It was more as if he wanted to get closer to her. As if he wanted to help her take away the bad stuff, that guilt and anxiety that still held her in a firm grip.

She cried, and he dried her tears. Then she fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning, he was gone.

For a week, she feverishly phoned him, but he didn’t answer. At last, the humiliation was too great and she stopped. Ellen did all she could to avoid running into him.

Now, she got out of the car and slammed the door, hard. ‘What is it? Are you playing games with me, or what?’

Maybe he wanted to start up where he’d left off yesterday? Suddenly, she was afraid that he was about to ask for forgiveness for hurting her, saying that he hadn’t felt it was right, and all that shit. That was over a year ago. She had moved on, and never wanted to talk about it again.

Never again.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked, looking serious.

‘To work,’ she answered, hearing how she sounded like a whiny teenager. She tied her hair up into a bun on the top of her head.

‘Without Andreas?’

She nodded. A photographer with a big camera scared a lot of people, and sometimes it was easier to do the research by yourself, and then call the photographer to the site. And she had to do something. She hadn’t been able to get hold of anyone by phone.

‘I see that you’ve retrieved your car.’

Ellen nodded again.

‘You might want to take a course in how to park though,’ he said, grinning.

Ellen looked down at the concrete floor and saw that she had parked right between two spaces. ‘Was it anything important?’ She had no desire to stand around and chitchat with him.

‘Yes, actually.’

This can’t be happening, she thought, leaning against the car as some kind of support for the humiliation that would soon wash over her. ‘I’m not interested in talking —’

‘I want us to file a police report,’ he interrupted her.

‘Police report?’

‘Yes, concerning what we talked about on the loading dock. I don’t understand how you don’t view the threats more seriously. It’s one thing for the climate on the net to become so mean-spirited, but you shouldn’t accept just anything. In any event, as your boss, I can’t allow it. I would like for us to sit down and go through the threats and afterwards take out a joint action and file a police report.’ Jimmy held up his phone. ‘Look at this. I realise that you don’t look at these, but I want to do something about it. You don’t read about yourself, do you? I don’t want you to go home by yourself at night, either. Take a taxi and just give me all the receipts. Regardless of whether it’s work or for a personal matter.’

Ellen nodded. Bit her lip. Did he have to add ‘as your boss’? she thought.

‘Do you really never read what’s written about you in these forums and comments? I’m thinking about removing the comment function. Do you get a lot of emails, too? If you want, I can ask someone to filter them for you so you don’t have to read it.’

‘No, thanks, it’s not necessary. I delete them without reading them. And as I said, I’ve learned to stay away from viewers’ comments. Considering your reaction right now, it’s probably just as well.’ She smiled.

‘Wake up, Ellen, these are threats. Disgusting ones. We have to take it seriously. I want us to file a police report.’

‘And how would that help, do you think? The police don’t care; your predecessor and I tried to report about it before, but they shut us down immediately. But I understand that, what can they do? These are only empty threats. People spew out a lot of shit on the internet.’

‘This is serious, Ellen.’ He picked up his phone, scrolled to one of the comments on her public Facebook page. ‘This, for example, is what one Paul Lundskog writes.’ He held up the phone so that she could read.

I’m going to rape you you fucking whore.

‘That is just damned crazy,’ Jimmy said, pulling his hands through his hair.

Ellen took Jimmy’s phone from him and clicked to Paul’s profile. ‘He lives in Stockholm. Enskede, it seems. Twenty-three years old.’

‘That they write like that from their own profiles. They have holes in their heads. Right through. Don’t they get that this is a crime?’

Ellen entered the number for the TV4 switchboard. ‘Can you connect me to a Paul Lundskog in Enskede?’

‘What are you doing, Ellen?’ Jimmy tried to stop her, reaching out to take back the phone.

‘Wait,’ she said, stepping back.

It took only a few seconds before the ringing began.

A man answered. It sounded like he’d been sleeping.

‘Hi, this is Ellen Tamm from TV4.’

‘Uh, okay …’

‘Why did you write on my Facebook page that you’re going to rape me? You know that’s a threat, right? I’ve filed a police report and the police are on their way to your place now. We’re talking two years in prison. Not especially smart to threaten someone on Facebook considering your account isn’t anonymous.’

‘What? Are you joking with me, or what? Who is this?’

He was definitely awake now.

‘It’s Ellen Tamm. We’re running a prime-time program where we make public the names and addresses of everyone who has threatened me on the internet. This conversation is being recorded. I’ve sent a notice to your parents about when the program will be broadcast. Great. So there you have it. Thanks.’ She hung up.

Jimmy stared at her.

‘I really have to go now,’ she said, getting in the car. She closed the door and took a few deep breaths before turning the key in the ignition.

She backed out and drove toward the garage exit. In the rear-view mirror she saw Jimmy standing there, watching her.

She turned up the radio to the highest volume. Before she had time to turn onto Tegeluddsvägen, her phone rang. She turned the radio down and answered without checking who it was.

‘Hello.’

‘Is this Ellen Tamm from TV4?’

It was a man’s voice. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t place it. ‘Who’s asking?’

‘This is Harald Höök here. Lycke’s father.’

Ellen stepped on the brakes. She’d been trying to get hold of him since the press conference the day before.

‘Could we meet?’ he asked. ‘I have something I’d like to talk about with you.’