FABIAN RISK RAN AS fast as he could along the gravel path. The voices behind him were yelling, “Theo! Theo! Theo!” He turned around and saw Lina, Jörgen, and several of his other classmates running after him; they were all about fifteen years old.
He was in the middle of nowhere, his upper body naked, and the rays of the sun were burning the back of his neck. He could hear his pulse, and the smacking sound as he tried to swallow a sip of water, but he didn’t have any left. Soon he wouldn’t be able to manage any longer. The voices behind him grew louder and louder: “THEODOR!”
What would happen if he gave up? No, he couldn’t. It was impossible. He couldn’t give up at any price. He was approaching a rock wall and could hear other voices, begging and pleading for their lives. He started climbing up, higher and higher, as fast as he could. The higher he climbed, the steeper the rock wall became. He looked down and saw his two old Stockholm colleagues, Tomas and Jarmo, climbing up after him. They were shouting. If he lost his balance he would fall the whole way down and all would be lost.
A hand came out of nowhere, pulling him up over the edge and leading him into a large, underground cave. There were costumed people — or beings — everywhere, wearing large, round headdresses that looked like big balls. He bent down and allowed a boy with golden-brown skin to place a similar headdress on his head while someone else hung a thick, white, crinkly shroud over his shoulders. It felt nice and cool.
An older man approached, looked him in the eye, and said something — but he couldn’t understand what. Yet he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. He held out his left hand and let the older man run an instrument with a beam of light across the back of his hand. The light penetrated his skin and bubbled through his veins, just as a peacock a few centimetres tall ran up his arm...
Fabian opened his eyes. Everything grew brighter, but not much clearer. He noticed two long, narrow lights on the ceiling. The protective casing of the fixture was missing, so the cables and the capacitor were visible. Not only did strip lighting shed ugly light, it was ugly to look at too, he thought as he attempted to sit up. The burning pain in his back intensified immediately and spread up toward his neck.
He reached for his phone to check the time, but he couldn’t find it. It was gone. So were his computer and the yearbook. He was bewildered. Hadn’t he found the killer hidden behind Claes in the yearbook? Or was that a dream too? He reached for the alarm button and jabbed it a few times, although he heard the alarm sound out in the hallway the very first time he pressed it.
The door opened. It was the brunette nurse, the one who was not exactly super helpful.
“So it’s time to get up again?”
“Where are my things? My phone, computer, and...”
“Apparently you were up working until five this morning.”
Was that true?
“And that is not what we would describe as resting. If you had followed the doctor’s orders, you almost certainly could have been home by now.”
“But I have to call —”
“No, you have to rest.” She pressed him down into the bed. “Right now, your body is working overtime to heal, and it needs all the strength it can get. So, do you want tea or coffee with your breakfast?”
“I just want to know what time it is.”
“It’s just after two. Let me ask you again: Tea or coffee?”
Fabian wanted neither of the two options. The coffee was as watery as the tea, which he was sure they used the coffeemaker to heat the hot water for. “Juice... give me two glasses of juice instead. And I would be eternally grateful if I could get some toast and a boiled egg.”
The nurse allowed herself a crooked smile. “With our current government, you can forget about the egg, but I’m sure we can offer you some toast.”
By now, Fabian was sure he hadn’t been dreaming about the connection between the crime scene in Söderåsen and the class picture from ninth grade. As soon as the nurse left the room he ignored the pain and sat up. He had five minutes — max — before she would be finished in the kitchen and back behind the reception desk, with a full view of the corridor. He slid onto his feet from the edge of the bed and tried to straighten his back as best he could. His pants, socks, and shoes were in the closet with his shirt and jacket, which had been far too damaged by the flames to be salvaged. He had no idea why anyone had put time and energy into hanging them up.
He opened the door and saw one of the silent officers flipping through a Wheels magazine.
“I’m just going to grab a few things from the reception desk,” he said.
The officer nodded and went back to his hot rod article.
As usual, the nurses’ station was unattended. He searched among the binders and stacks of paper but couldn’t find any of his stuff. If none of it was here in the reception area, he had no idea where to look.
The brunette nurse walked into the corridor carrying his breakfast tray. Fabian bent down behind the desk and clenched his teeth. The pain in his back triggered sweat to start dripping from his forehead. He peered under the desk: his laptop case and a bag containing his phone and documents were stuffed in the corner. He let the nurse pass, took his things, and headed for the elevators.