Lycke

by Mikaela Bley

  ‘Just a few more questions. How was she dressed?’

  ‘She had on tennis clothes, a pink bag.’

  ‘Does she have any history of illness?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has she run away before?’

  ‘She has never run away and she’s not the type to run away,’ Helena replied stiffly.

  ‘She’s very withdrawn, and wouldn’t take that sort of initiative,’ Harald added.

  Helena noticed the tattooed words coiling around the neck of the policeman who sat silently, staring at her in the rear-view mirror. She tried to read what the words said.

  ‘Have you called her friends?’

  ‘Yes, of course we have.’

  ‘Good. I understand that this is a terrible situation, but let’s start with the obvious alternatives. Are you sure she hasn’t gone home? Children are often found at home. Asleep in bed.’ He smiled cautiously.

  ‘She doesn’t have a key to my place, and Harald just talked with his wife.’

  ‘No, she’s not at home. I understand that you have to ask these questions, but, please, we’ve been turning over every little stone. We don’t know where else we could look.’

  ‘Hundreds of people disappear every day, and the majority are found. Usually they just hadn’t told their families that they had plans.’

  Harald’s jaw clenched.

  ‘Plans? She’s eight years old.’

  ‘It’s possible she’s gotten lost in the woods here.’

  ‘Harald, what if she doesn’t have a jacket on!’

  Harald leaned toward the front seat. ‘Listen here, I understand that you have to consider all the different possibilities, but I know my daughter and she would never go off on her own. You’re wasting valuable time. Listen to what we’re saying. We have to go out and search for her,’ Harald said.

  The rain came down even harder, sounding like nails striking the roof of the car.

  ‘We’ll do what we can.’

  The line sounded rehearsed, not at all convincing.

  ‘Even though it’s a big area, she couldn’t have gone all that far, but we’re not ruling anything out. Ladugårdsgärdet, Hjorthagen, and north Djurgården. Do you have a picture of Lycke?’

  Helena took out her phone and started browsing through her photos, but could only find pictures of various apartments that she had sold.

  Harald seemed to be doing the same, but then put his phone back in his pocket without saying anything.

  Helena couldn’t help wondering how many pictures he had of his son.

  Finally, she came to a picture of Lycke from last Easter. It wasn’t particularly good, but it was something. They had been at Skansen, the open-air museum. Lycke had lost one of her front teeth, and according to an old family tradition, she then got to wish for something. Lycke had wished for a day at Skansen with her mother.

  Helena remembered how surprised she had been that Lycke didn’t wish for a bicycle, or something like that. But Lycke had been determined, and even though Helena really didn’t have time, they had gone. Yet another miserable attempt to be a good mother. They’d walked hurriedly around, looking at the animals. Helena was supposed to be showing apartments in the afternoon and had had lots to prepare. Suddenly, Lycke had started screaming and crying. Nothing would calm her down. People had glared at Helena accusingly. Bad mother.

  Focus on the animals and stop staring, she remembered thinking then. They knew nothing about what it was like for her.

  She handed over the phone.

  ‘This will be fine. Is it okay if I send it to my phone?’ Fredrik asked.

  Helena nodded.

  ‘What’s the next step?’ asked Harald. ‘Shouldn’t we call the National Guard?’

  ‘Is it okay if we open a door and let in a little air?’ Helena tugged on the door handle. ‘Excuse me, can we open the door?’ she repeated, taking off her jacket, the sweat making it cling to her skin.

  ‘Do you have helicopters with thermal-imaging cameras?’ Harald asked.

  ‘Let’s take one thing at a time. Does Lycke have a phone?’

  Harald shook his head. ‘No, we’ve talked about getting her a phone, but —’

  ‘But Harald has different priorities,’ Helena interrupted. ‘He was supposed to pay for Lycke’s expenses, but he chose to spend all his money on his new family.’

  Harald ignored her and continued. ‘— But she still seems too young.’

  ‘I really must get some air. Can you open the door?’

  ‘We’ll fax out a description so then the taxis will get the information too. We’ll call in reinforcements now.’

  ‘Please stay in the vicinity,’ the other policeman said, finally unlocking the door.

  Helena leapt out of the car. She took a few deep breaths and turned her head toward the sky, letting the raindrops spatter across her face.

  ELLEN

  11 P.M.

  Ellen drove aimlessly around the city, trying to rearrange her thoughts. Several times she’d brought up her mother’s number on her phone, but then didn’t press the button to call her. There was nothing to say. Instead, she turned up the radio.

  The rain pounded against the windscreen.

  She concentrated on the music. The volume was as high as it would go; it was best that way.

  Instead of going home — and even though she knew she shouldn’t — she decided to go back to work.

  She drove past Gärdet and turned onto Tegeluddsvägen.

  Despite the frantic grinding of the windscreen wipers, it was impossible to keep the line of vision clear, and for the millionth time she reminded herself to change the wiper blades.

  The darkness didn’t make it any easier, the beams from the headlights reflecting off the puddles of water on the road.

  As she approached the TV4 building, instead of turning in to the parking lot, something made her drive past it and continue up to Lidingövägen, the main road that connected Lidingö island with Östermalm. All her friends took this road these days — as soon as they had kids, they moved into single-family houses on Lidingö.

  The light at the intersection was red.

  Ellen tapped her fingers along the steering wheel. What was she doing? Should she drive to the Royal Tennis Hall?

  The light turned to yellow.

  Would she be able to handle it?

  Green.

  She thumped the steering wheel, trying to push away the feelings growing inside her.

  The light turned red again.

  She took a few deep breaths.

  ‘Death, death, death!’ she screamed.

  Then she saw a police car driving through the main entrance to the Royal Tennis Hall. That entrance was usually closed. They must have opened it due to the circumstances.

  The circumstances.

  Now the light turned green for the second time, and she made up her mind. Crossing Lidingövägen, she followed the police car through the wooden gate. She stopped a short distance away from the three police cars that were parked outside the tennis hall.

  She shouldn’t be here.

  A knock on her car window made her jump. She peered out and was met by a familiar face. Sighing quietly, she rolled down the window.

  ‘What’s a looker like you doing here in the middle of the night?’ Rocker leaned over. ‘Taking the opportunity to wash your car in the rain, or were you just passing by because you knew I would be here?’ He winked, smacking his lips. ‘No, but joking aside, we actually don’t want any journalists here.’

  How unusual, thought Ellen.

  Rain was pouring in through the window, and the wind blew her hair around her face. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Well, nothing new, but we’ve just brought a police dog over to search the immediate area. By the time you wake up tomorrow, we
’ll probably have found her.’

  He was just as cocky as he was big. The first time she met him, many years ago, he was working as a bouncer at Köket — the trendy nightspot when she was in high school — even though she was actually too young to get in. But he would always let Ellen and her friends in. She remembered that he used to brag that he had to have his clothes specially tailored because he was so big and muscular. Presumably, it was the same with his police uniform. Now he was working for the city police, and she often ran into him. He had been nicknamed ‘Rocker’. He wasn’t all that street smart, she’d heard. Evidently, he mostly had to keep quiet when he was out in the field so as not to embarrass himself. On his neck were tattooed the words: If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.

  ‘Your car ought to be spotless, by the way, considering how much it’s rained this past week.’ He took a step backwards and inspected her car before leaning over again. ‘Or maybe it doesn’t work that way with pink cars?’ He laughed loudly.

  ‘Probably?’ she asked.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said that you’ll “probably” find her. Are you searching until you have found her, or what?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, but it’s already late …’ He glanced at his watch.

  ‘How many of you are searching?’ She looked around impatiently.

  ‘We have about four cars out there. If we don’t find her tonight, we’ll find her tomorrow — you’ll see,’ he said, winking again.

  Someone ought to tell him that didn’t work.

  ‘Tomorrow? Is there anything I can help with — today?’

  He placed his fingers on the edge of the rolled-down window. She could smell tobacco on them.

  ‘Hey, it’s not every day you reporters want to help out. What’s up? Something I missed? Or maybe you just want to hang out with me?’ He paused. ‘I think you should go home. Show a little respect for the family. Hopefully there’ll be better news by tomorrow morning. Okay?’

  He was right, there was nothing for her to do here.

  ‘Just let me know if you want to test drive the car some time,’ she said, before rolling up the window and starting the engine.

  But as she was about to put the car in reverse, she caught sight of a woman, with long, dark hair, in a skirt and jacket, standing huddled up by the hall entrance. Presumably, the girl’s mother.

  Ellen turned off the car and got out.

  ‘Listen, I asked you not to butt in.’ Rocker raised his hand. ‘I told you, we’re not interested in having journalists here.’

  ‘Come on. Consider me an ordinary fellow human being then, someone who just wants to help search.’ Ellen walked toward the entry, but could no longer see the mother.

  Instead, she headed for the field commander’s car, the car everyone reported to. The few policemen who were on the scene were assembled there.

  The wind whipped around her bare legs. She pulled her leather jacket as far up around her neck as she could.

  Rocker followed her.

  ‘Well done,’ said the middle-aged blonde woman sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down. On her chest, she wore a field-commander’s badge.

  ‘I tried, but —’ Rocker no longer sounded so tough.

  ‘But you failed at the simple task I gave you, which was to keep journalists away.’

  She gave both Rocker and Ellen a searing look and then returned to studying the map that was unfolded across the dashboard.

  Two police cadets stood nearby. Ellen hoped they were as efficient as they were young, but something gave her the feeling that wasn’t the case. They looked more like two wet dogs, and probably just wanted to go home and warm up with a mug of hot chocolate.

  Ellen approached the commander and cleared her throat.

  ‘I don’t know what your agenda is,’ the commander said, ‘but we’re trying to find a girl who has disappeared. So you’ll have to excuse me, but we don’t have time for reporters who’ve come snooping around. Do we understand one another?’

  ‘But —’

  ‘Check off K5. Ropsten Tennis Hall,’ said the police officer sitting in the passenger seat.

  The commander drew an ‘X’ on the map. Ellen leaned closer to the window and saw that the whole map was divided into squares. Almost every square was crossed off.

  Ellen pointed at the map inquisitively.

  ‘We’re going to find her,’ the commander cut her off, anticipating what Ellen was about to say. ‘But we don’t exactly have the weather on our side. Can you step away, please?’

  Ellen did as requested, but placed herself close enough to the open driver’s door that she could still hear the radio and the reports coming in from the cars out in the field.

  One car reported that they had spoken with a dog owner in North Djurgårdsstaden, but that this person hadn’t seen anything of significance.

  The radio crackled again.

  ‘Check off K8. Östermalm’s athletic field to Valhallavägen, nothing.’

  ‘Have you checked if there are any surveillance cameras?’ Ellen turned to the two young policemen shivering beside her.

  ‘Yes, but they are useless.’

  ‘The tarps are covering every camera,’ one of them said, pointing to the scaffolding covering the facade.

  From a distance, a rumbling could be heard — one of the few sounds that could penetrate through the howling wind and the cracking of the tarps, and the lines knocking against the three flagpoles outside the tennis hall.

  ‘Helicopter on approach,’ a policeman getting out of another car informed them.

  ‘How come you haven’t had a helicopter here yet? She’s been gone for almost eight hours.’ Ellen turned back to the commander.

  ‘We only have two helicopters in central Sweden, and one was on Gotland when we called for it and the other on a mission in Strängnäs. Now, would you please leave?’ she said, then turned to the other policeman. They exchanged a few words, but Ellen couldn’t hear what was being said.

  The radio chattered constantly. Nothing new. Just more check marks to cross off.

  Above, the helicopter was circling. She looked up at the sky, the rain stinging her face. The helicopter’s searchlights were sweeping around the ground. She wanted to ask where the girl’s mother had gone, but didn’t want them thinking she was there to get at the family. Most likely, she was in the other police car, with the dad. The windows were tinted, so it was impossible to see in.

  Ellen’s back ached. She stretched and looked around.

  Her gaze fastened on the outdoor courts, which looked like pools.

  Good Lord! The pool!

  Ellen rushed along the wet cobblestones and leaned over the cold wall looking down to the pool area. It took no more than a moment to scan the swimming pool — and the only thing out of the ordinary was some empty soda cans bobbing in the water. Even though the pool was illuminated and she could clearly see that no one was lying on the bottom, she climbed over the wall and made her way over to the edge of the pool.

  ‘Found anything?’

  Rocker had followed her.

  Ellen walked around the pool to reassure herself that the girl wasn’t hiding nearby. ‘Lycke!’ she called, moving the lounge chairs lined up along the edge. She made another round; she was having a hard time relinquishing the feeling that the water wanted to tell her something.

  ‘We’ve checked the pool, and there’s no one here. We’ve checked this whole area.’

  ‘Are you sure she’s not hiding?’ she asked.

  Rocker nodded.

  ‘Can she swim?’ Her heart was slowly starting to work its way down from her throat.

  ‘That, I don’t really know,’ he answered. ‘Can you, when you’re eight? I guess you get those swim badges and stuff. Well, they did in my day anyway. How old were we then? Dam
n, I don’t remember …’

  Ellen knew exactly how many swimming badges you could have when you were eight, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Where are you?’ she whispered, starting to snap her frozen fingers. ‘Do you see us? Are you hiding?’

  She looked around, turning in a circle. She thought she spotted something. Dark shadows moving in the bushes. ‘Lycke, come out now!’

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Rocker came toward her.

  ‘Did you see that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There was movement over there.’ She pointed toward the bushes in front of the Östermalm athletic fields. ‘No, there!’ Now she saw something behind the tennis courts. ‘Did you see?’

  ‘I see only rain,’ said Rocker.

  ‘She’s here somewhere.’ Ellen continued walking around, determined not to miss anything.

  ‘It’s probably an optical illusion.’

  The faint aroma from the hedge was cloying; it threatened to choke her. Ellen coughed. The heavier she breathed, the harder it felt to get any air.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be going home now? This cold isn’t good for you.’

  Ellen had lost feeling in her whole body. She was beyond freezing, and her hair was soaking wet, as though she had just gotten out of the shower.

  Reluctantly, she followed Rocker back to the cars.

  ‘Why are there only police officers searching? Shouldn’t we call in the orienteers? Assemble some people? The National Guard?’

  ‘Orienteers?’ Rocker laughed. ‘Is there such a thing nowadays?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Notify the Missing People group then? I don’t know. What do you usually do when people disappear? Nowadays.’

  ‘It takes longer for us to organise a bunch of volunteers than to just do it ourselves. We don’t have the resources,’ he answered, placing a hand on Ellen’s shoulder as a way to end the conversation.

  ‘But, can’t I help with the organising then?’

  Rocker just shook his head. They had arrived back at the cars, and Ellen was once again met by a glare from the commander, before she resumed talking with her colleague sitting next to her.