Lycke

by Mikaela Bley

  ‘Not right now, but a colleague of mine will be in touch with you during the day to ask more questions. We’re also going to need to take a tissue sample to rule out your DNA from the backpack.’

  ‘Of course, they can just call. May I ask, where did you find the backpack?’

  ‘In Rålambshovsparken.’

  Mona considered it. ‘Isn’t that on the other side of town?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. But, unfortunately, I have to keep on here. Thanks for your help.’ He hung up.

  Mona sank down on the little stool beside the matching pine table. Then she picked up the receiver again. She thought briefly about which of them she should call and then dialled Harald’s number, since it was still his week.

  After three rings, he answered.

  ‘Do you know anything?’ she asked.

  ‘No, nothing new.’ He sounded dejected. ‘Where can she have gone? You must help us — you’re the only one who understands her.’

  Mona shook her head. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand it. Lycke isn’t one to disappear. I just don’t understand it.’

  ‘Can she have run away?’

  Mona thought about the quarrelling yesterday.

  ‘But surely she’s not a child who would run away?’ he continued.

  A child, she thought, growing annoyed at his wording. ‘Not really.’ She hesitated. ‘But the past few weeks she’s seemed so sad.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  You really have missed everything, thought Mona. ‘It’s hard to put it into words, but she’s been very quiet and introverted.’ She wasn’t able to explain. It would only hurt him, and that wouldn’t help anyone.

  ‘She’s always quiet.’

  Mona didn’t answer. What should she say?

  ‘Please, try to think, did she say or do anything unusual when you dropped her off at school yesterday?’

  There was silence for a few seconds.

  ‘No, but I could see that she was sad.’

  There was silence again, and Mona thought back to yesterday. Friday morning had been awful. When she’d gone into Lycke’s room right after 7 a.m., the girl had been sitting on the bed, rubbing her fingers frantically against her jeans.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mona had asked, taking hold of Lycke’s hands to make her stop.

  Lycke turned her head away. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Just then, there was a knock at the door, and before either Mona or Lycke could respond, Chloé came into the room.

  Mona felt Lycke squeeze her hand hard.

  ‘How nice that you’re here,’ said Chloé, looking at Mona. ‘I’ve tried to explain to Lycke that she can’t use my expensive soap, which you can’t get in Sweden. There’s another soap for you in the small bathroom,’ she continued, looking at Lycke. ‘It doesn’t matter this time, but I would rather it didn’t happen again. Okay?’

  Lycke nodded without looking up.

  ‘You can at least look at me when I’m talking with you.’

  Lycke slowly raised her head and whispered, ‘Okay.’

  ‘Thanks. Now let’s forget this and try to have a nice day,’ Chloé said, and left the room.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Mona whispered, patting her on the cheek.

  But Lycke continued rubbing her hands on her jeans. ‘I have to get rid of the perfume smell,’ she said. ‘I have to get rid of the smell!’

  Mona didn’t know how she could comfort Lycke, and so let her continue.

  After a while, Lycke stopped. ‘Sorry,’ she said, looking at Mona with blue, tear-filled eyes.

  ‘Come, let’s put a sweater on you and have breakfast,’ Mona said, patting Lycke’s reddened cheeks.

  Mona had set out breakfast for Lycke and was taking the opportunity to put some dishes away when she heard Harald and Chloé arguing in the hall.

  As usual, it was about Lycke.

  This time, Chloé claimed to have heard Lycke coughing and didn’t want her to stay with them over the weekend because she might infect her little brother.

  Mona hadn’t noticed any signs that Lycke had a cold.

  Eventually, Chloé managed to convince Harald to call Helena to get her to take Lycke. They screamed at each other over the phone.

  Mona cast a glance at Lycke. She was sitting at the kitchen table, but hadn’t touched her breakfast. She was covering her ears with her hands.

  Mona dropped a glass in the sink and it shattered into a thousand pieces.

  ‘Lycke is a smart girl. She understood exactly what it was about,’ she said now quietly to Harald, but then regretted it immediately.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Anyway, I’d like you to please stay at home, in case it turns out that she shows up at your place. I’ll pay, of course.’

  ‘I don’t want any money.’

  ‘Could she be at a friend’s? Have the police investigated who she could be with? I think we’ve got the names of —’

  ‘Harald. She has no friends.’

  There was silence on the phone.

  Mona didn’t want to tell him about the girls in Lycke’s class and how mean they were when she dropped Lycke off at school. They wouldn’t even say hello to Lycke, even though she sometimes actually took the initiative and tried to talk to them — though that was becoming more and more seldom.

  Mona had talked with her teachers several times, insisting that they had to do something. They’d told her that there was just so much going on right now and they would look into it after the summer.

  After the summer.

  Countless times, Mona had tried to tell Harald and Helena about what was happening with Lycke at school, but they hadn’t listened.

  Mona remained seated on the stool after the call was over. She’d let the receiver fall down into her lap.

  She wanted to fight against the feeling taking over her body, not let it sink in.

  Lycke was four years old when Mona started working for the Höök family. At that time, the parents had just separated, and it was a painful period for everyone.

  This wasn’t the first family with divorced parents Mona had worked for. Separations were filled with hate. She couldn’t understand it. And it was always the children who got caught in the middle. No matter how she looked at it, she could not for the life of her understand how it could be that way.

  But this was something beyond the ordinary. It was so much worse, and not simply because Lycke was a special little girl. She was so alone and so fragile.

  ELLEN

  10.50 A.M.

  Ten minutes to go until the live broadcast. Jimmy had decided that the press conference would also be broadcast live on TV7, their other channel. Fit perfectly with the target group, he explained.

  Andreas had rigged the camera equipment, and Ellen went through the script one last time.

  The entire media population of Stockholm had gathered in the police station on Kungsholmen. Every newspaper, website, and TV and radio channel was represented. Even though the room was already too crowded, more journalists kept pouring in. It was a long time since Ellen had seen such a turnout.

  Ellen bit her lip and tried to collect herself. In her hand, she held the microphone with the big red number four on it.

  ‘Your mascara is running. You have to fix that before we can start,’ Andreas said, pointing at her right eye.

  With the help of a little spit, she scrubbed at it. Andreas shook his head.

  Ellen kept on rubbing. The skin under her eye started to sting, and she was feeling irritated and hemmed in by the crowd. Right now, she wished she worked in radio.

  ‘Come on, Ellen, we have to get this out as fast as possible. It’s starting soon,’ he said, adjusting the
focus on the camera.

  She nodded. He was right.

  She took out a mirror and tried to wipe away the mascara, patted on extra make-up. Philip had done a good basic job, but the rain and now the heat in the room meant it needed a touch-up.

  ‘Watch out,’ she said when a person bumped into her from behind. She took the opportunity to note where the emergency exits were and to calculate how quickly she could get out of there if she decided she couldn’t take it.

  One more time, she read through the crinkled page of script she’d jotted down in the car on their way to the police station. She adjusted her dress so that it sat properly, took a deep breath, and tried to close out the sounds and movement around her.

  Andreas nodded. She raised the microphone and looked into the camera.

  ‘I’m standing here in the police station in Stockholm …’ She brought down the mike. ‘No, I have to rewrite. I can’t say that. It’s much too flat.’ She searched in her bag for a pen, but didn’t find one. She’d have to be content with the mascara pencil. Without knowing what she should change, she started scribbling over the script.

  ‘Come on now, Ellen. Let’s go. We’re running out of time.’

  Running out of time. Running out of time. As if she didn’t know that.

  Once again, she looked into the camera. Took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m standing here …’ Her mind was completely blank. ‘… Like some kind of fucking idiot.’

  ‘Damn it, pull yourself together,’ Andreas said.

  He sounded irritated, and she could understand why. This wasn’t like her. She usually got everything right the first time.

  ‘Don’t stress me out,’ she snapped, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Was there time to fix the powder?

  Pull yourself together!

  The journalists around her were all talking at the same time; the din of voices was deafening. And the smell of all the rain-damp clothing was nauseating.

  Finally, she managed to put together a completely acceptable introduction, finishing right when the door at the far end of the room opened.

  Everyone fell silent. The crackle of camera shutters was all that could be heard.

  Ove entered first and positioned himself at the podium.

  Ellen told their viewers what was happening and what they could expect from the broadcast. She recited from memory from the press release that the police had distributed earlier that morning. Sweat trickled down her back. Fortunately, she didn’t need to be on camera much longer.

  After Ove, came the mother.

  She looked worn out, but who wouldn’t after a no doubt completely sleepless night?

  Lycke looked a lot like her mother.

  The vacant look on the woman’s face made Ellen’s heart twist in her chest. She pictured her own mother up there and her stomach knotted.

  The father came in right after the mother. He, too, seemed exhausted. Together, they looked like two wounded animals, as they placed themselves behind the microphones rigged up on the podium.

  Andreas jostled with the other photographers, trying to get the best angle.

  Ellen was happy not to have to do too much right now and continued observing the parents. The mother’s expression did not change. She stood stock still, staring at a distant spot somewhere in the hall. Ellen tried to see if she was looking at anything in particular, but she’d probably just fixed her gaze on something, like you do when you’re trying to keep your balance. The dark-blue dress fit tight around her body. Her face was sharp.

  The father shifted his weight from leg to leg, picked at his wedding ring, fidgeted with his watch.

  Without actually knowing why they had divorced, Ellen could not help feeling irritated at the father for having started a new family.

  ‘Welcome, everyone. My name is Ove Svensson and I’m the press spokesman for the police department. Let me start by thanking you all for being here.’ He moved his head back and forth, just like an owl. ‘Lycke Höök disappeared yesterday afternoon outside the Royal Tennis Hall.’

  The picture of Lycke was projected on the white screen behind the podium. Ove commented on the find they had made that morning — Lycke’s backpack. The search areas had been adjusted in consideration of where the bag had been found. The police were now more inclined to think they were dealing with a kidnapping and were acting accordingly. A report had been prepared labelling it an abduction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Andreas whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stop snapping your fingers.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Ellen said, fanning her face with the script.

  Ove finished his speech and introduced Lycke’s father. The man looked out over the sea of journalists and then at the microphones in front of him, uncertain which one he should speak into.

  Ellen felt herself beginning to sway.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Andreas whispered in her ear again.

  ‘I think so. I’m just having a hard time breathing in here. I don’t know, I feel a little dizzy.’

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Lycke’s father asked, tapping the mike with his finger. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before he started to talk. ‘Yes, so I’m Lycke’s father, Harald Höök. I want to start by thanking you for your support and for trying to help us find Lycke. It has been a terrible night for the whole family. We can do nothing other than hope to find her unharmed. We truly need help from all of you and the general public.’

  His voice was deep and determined, but there was a discernible underlying note of fear.

  ‘Whoever it is who has taken our girl —’ He looked into the cameras with such an intense expression it was hard to look away. Just like Lycke’s expression in the photo above him. ‘I beg you, give her back to her mother.’ He cast a quick glance at Lycke’s mother before looking out over the crowd and continuing. ‘Give her back to her father and her little brother and all the others who love her and miss her.’

  Now his voice was trembling and he drew his hand over his cheek as if he was wiping away a tear. He turned around and looked at the picture of Lycke.

  The mother remained expressionless as she stared straight ahead into space.

  Harald leaned against the podium. Ove came up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Ellen wiped her forehead.

  ‘If you have any questions, you may ask them now. You have ten minutes,’ said Ove.

  A reporter from Aftonbladet threw out the first question: ‘What do you think has happened to your daughter?’

  The parents looked at each other uncertainly and then at Ove.

  ‘The parents are only going to answer factual questions. We’ll leave the speculation to you,’ Ove responded.

  ‘Are there any suspects?’

  ‘Do you think she’s been kidnapped?’

  ‘Is this about money?’

  The questions rained down like hail.

  ‘We can’t rule anything out, but we haven’t received any extortion demands that suggest that type of kidnapping,’ Ove replied.

  ‘Could a paedophile be involved?’ one journalist asked.

  Ellen had feared that question. That theory. She really didn’t want to consider it. She tried to interpret the parents’ reactions, but they were hard to read. But they must have had that thought themselves.

  ‘As stated, we can’t rule anything out.’

  The mother had still not said a word.

  ‘Have you received any tips that have been useful?’

  ‘We’ve received hundreds of emails. So far, unfortunately, none of the tips have led to anything. We encourage the general public to continue letting us know if they’ve heard or seen anything. We are working as quickly as we can and are doing everything in our power to find Lycke safe and sound.’

  ‘How can she have simply disappeared? Are t
here any witnesses?’

  ‘Have you blocked the borders?’

  ‘One question at a time,’ Ove ordered. ‘As stated, we can’t rule anything out, but there is reason to believe that she has been abducted.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘We can’t go into any details, but the backpack being found indicates that.’

  ‘Who found the backpack?’ asked Ellen as loudly as she could.

  Ove cleared his throat. ‘As stated, we won’t go into any details.’

  ‘Should other parents be worried about their children?’ someone else started up.

  ‘There is nothing to indicate that at the present time.’

  There was a buzz among the people in the room.

  ‘I have a question for the parents,’ someone called. ‘Do you think your daughter is still alive?’

  ‘As stated, no speculation,’ Ove sounded annoyed.

  ‘No, I’m happy to answer that.’ Harald stepped forward. ‘There is absolutely no reason to think that she’s not alive, no evidence that suggests she’s been harmed. We just have to find her before she is. Please, help us find our Lycke.’

  ***

  Ellen drummed her fingers on the steering wheel while she waited for Andreas, who was shoving the camera equipment into the little luggage compartment of her car.

  For every second that passed, she hit the steering wheel harder. Whatever Harald Höök had said, it felt as if the police were assuming that Lycke was dead. They didn’t say it straight out, but she could read between the lines. Had they really given up already?

  A fly was buzzing around her. She tried to wave it away, but it persisted in hanging around.

  Ellen’s phone beeped. The message was from Ove’s prepaid phone.

  I have more info for you. Do what you need to and then call me.

  ‘Hurry up!’ she said to Andreas, although he had just finished and was about to jump into the passenger seat. Rain was dripping off him.

  ‘Calm down. If you’re in such a damned hurry you can at least help out.’ He adjusted his cap and dried his hands on his jeans. ‘This is not exactly a big car you have.’

  ‘Welcome back to the job,’ she said, shifting the car into gear even before Andreas had time to close the door.