Vanished (15 page)

The men were lost in their own thoughts for a minute or so and then came to the same conclusion.

‘A police plant, no doubt about it,’ Ingvar Johansson said.

‘A plant if ever there was one,’ Sjölander seconded.

‘But why?’ the news-desk editor wondered.

The crime-desk editor shrugged.

‘The cops don’t have diddly, they want to stir things up. Either they want to undermine Ratko’s position or cement it, it doesn’t matter to us. If a police detective goes public with the information that they’re looking for Ratko, we’re talking headlines here.’

They nodded to each other.

‘Will you notify Jansson?’ Sjölander asked.

Ingvar Johansson got up and went over to the night desk.

In one corner, a low-wattage bulb emitted a yellowish glow. An EKG beeped rhythmically and monotonously. Sofia Katarina was hooked up to drips and machines. Her body appeared diminished and dry, so still and small, under the flimsy blanket, Annika went up to her, stroked her head and was struck by how old she seemed. How odd. She had never thought of her grandmother as old.

‘Just look at her,’ her mother said. ‘Look at her mouth.’

The right-hand corner of Gran’s mouth drooped. Some drool ran down her neck. Annika grabbed a paper towel and wiped it away.

‘She’s asleep right now,’ the doctor told them. ‘You can stay here for a while if you like.’

Then she left the room, the door swishing shut.

They sat on either side of the bed, Annika’s mother still wearing her fur. The room was filled with hospital sounds: the whoosh of the ventilation system, the electronic song of the machines, the clicking of clogs in the hallway. Despite all this, the silence was oppressive.

‘Who would’ve thought it could happen?’ Annika’s mother said. ‘And today of all days . . .’

She started to sob.

‘Of course you couldn’t have known,’ Annika said softly. ‘No one’s blaming you.’

‘She was out shopping yesterday. I was working at the checkout counter and she seemed so cheerful and fit.’

They fell silent again. Annika’s mother was crying soundlessly.

‘We need to find a place for her to live,’ Annika said. ‘Lövåsen is out of the question.’

‘Well,
I
can’t do it,’ her mother said in a determined voice and looked up.

‘Patients getting the wrong medication, neglect . . . I wrote a whole series of articles about the shoddy conditions at Lövåsen. Gran is
not
going there.’

‘That was a long time ago – I’m sure things are better now.’

Her mother blotted her face with a tissue as Annika got up.

‘Maybe we could find a private solution,’ Annika said.

‘Well, she’s not staying with me!’

Her mother was sitting up straight and had stopped using the tissue. Annika saw her sitting there: asthmatic from smoking, sweating from the combined heat of fur and hot flushes, her hair getting thin, extra weight creeping up on her, distant and self-centred. Before Annika realized it she had seized her mother by the shoulders.

‘Don’t be so goddamned immature,’ Annika hissed. ‘I mean private-care options. This isn’t about you, understand? For once in your life you’re not the centre of attention.’

The woman gaped, a red splotchy rash breaking out on her neck.

‘You . . .!’ she started to say as she pushed Annika away and stood up.

The younger woman looked at the older woman and sensed the outburst that was imminent.

‘Spit it out,’ Annika said tersely. ‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’

Her mother pulled her fur coat tight across her chest and swooped over to Annika.

‘If you only knew how much crap I’ve had to take on account of you!’ she whispered heatedly. ‘Have you ever considered what it’s been like for me all these years? The way people exchange looks behind my back? The gossip? No wonder your sister moved – she always looked up to you before. It’s amazing that Leif has been able to stand it; he’s been on the verge of leaving me several times. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’ve always begrudged me love, you’ve never been able to stand Leif . . .’

Annika blanched as her mother circled her, backing towards the exit, pointing an accusing finger at her.

‘And not to mention Sofia!’ the older woman went on, louder now. ‘She was such a respected person. The matron of Harpsund. And now she has to end her days as the grandmother of the girl who murdered—’

Annika couldn’t breathe.

‘Go to hell!’ she managed to sputter.

Her mother moved in closer, spittle flying from her mouth.

‘A fine journalist like you should be able face the truth!’

Suddenly Annika was transported back to the foundry, to the coke room next to the blast furnace. She saw her dead cat, saw the iron pipe lying nearby. She clasped her hands to her head and doubled over.

‘Go,’ she whispered. ‘Go away, Mother.’

Her mother pulled out a leather cigarette case and a green plastic lighter.

‘Sit here and think about what you put us through.’

Silence: the room grew darker, it was difficult to get any air. Shock had lodged like a stone at the base of Annika’s throat, making it hard to breathe.

She hates me
, she thought.
My own mother hates me. I’ve ruined her life
.

A wave of self-pity enveloped her, crushing her down to the ground.

What have I done to the people I love? Dear God, what have I done?

Sofia Katarina’s left hand fluttered on the yellow hospital blanket.

‘Barbro?’ she murmured.

Annika looked up.
Gran, oh, Gran!
Flew to her side, took her cold immobile right hand, pulled herself together and tried to smile.

‘Hello, Gran, it’s me, Annika.’

‘Barbro?’ her grandmother slurred, gazing at her with unfocused eyes.

Tears welled up, obscuring her vision.

‘No, it’s me, Annika. Barbro’s daughter.’

The old lady gazed around the room, her left hand fidgeting and fluttering.

‘Am I at Lyckebo?’

Unable to hold back the tears any longer, Annika let them fall as she breathed with her mouth open.

‘No, Gran, you’re ill. You’re in the hospital.’

The old lady’s gaze returned to Annika.

‘Who are you?’

‘Annika,’ she whispered. ‘It’s me.’

A flicker came through the haze.

‘Of course,’ Sofia Katarina said. ‘My favourite girl.’

Annika sobbed, resting her head in the old woman’s lap as she held her hand. After a while she got up to blow her nose.

‘You’ve been in pretty bad shape, Gran,’ she said as she walked around the bed. ‘We’ve got to patch you up as soon as possible.’

But her grandmother had gone back to sleep.

WEDNESDAY 31 OCTOBER

A
ida steeled herself. The hill ahead of her seemed endless. The road seemed to waver before her as she staggered on, sweat pouring down behind her ears and down her neck. Wasn’t she ever going to get there?

She sat down on the pavement, her legs in the gutter, and rested her head on her knees. Oblivious to the cold and the damp, she sat there, needing to rest before she continued.

A car came over the crest and slowed down as it passed. Aida could sense the occupants looking at her. This was no place to sit. In a well-tended neighbourhood like this someone was sure to call the police before long.

She got up, and for a split second she blacked out.

I’ve got to find that house. Now
.

She walked straight ahead and saw the number she’d been searching for at the next drive. How silly: she’d almost given up with only twenty metres left to go. She tried to laugh. Instead she tripped on a rock, almost fell and had to fight back the tears.

‘Help me,’ she murmured.

She made it to the stairs, pulled herself up along the railing and rang the bell. A solid front door equipped with two extra bolts. A bell clanged somewhere on the inside. Nothing happened. She rang again. And again. And again. Tried to peek in through the dark glass insets in the door – saw only darkness, emptiness, not even any furniture.

Aida sank down on the stairs and rested her forehead against the wall of the house. Her strength had run out. He could come. It didn’t matter. Call the police. Things couldn’t get any worse.

‘Aida?’

She could barely manage to look up.

‘Oh dear, how are you?’

She was losing consciousness and clutched at the wall.

‘Christ, she’s ill. Anders, come and give me a hand.’

Someone took hold of her and pulled her to her feet. An agitated woman’s voice, a calmer man’s voice, it was warm and dark, she was indoors.

‘Put her down on the couch.’

The room was spinning, she was being moved, then she was resting on something. She found herself looking into a couch; it was brown and scratchy. A blanket was smoothed over her, but she was still cold.

‘She’s terribly ill,’ the woman remarked, ‘and she’s running a very high temperature. We’ve got to get her to a doctor.’

‘We can’t bring a doctor here, you know that,’ the man said.

Aida wanted to say something, to protest.
No, no doctor, no hospital
.

The people went into another room. She could hear them murmuring. Perhaps she drifted off to sleep, because the next thing she knew was that the man and the woman were standing over her with a cup of steaming hot tea.

‘You must be Aida, right?’ the woman said. ‘I’m Mia, Mia Eriksson. This is my husband, Anders. When did you get this ill?’

Aida tried to reply.

‘No doctors,’ she whispered.

The woman called Mia nodded.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘No doctors. We understand. But you need medical care and we have a suggestion.’

Aida shook her head.

‘They’re looking for me.’

Mia stroked her head.

‘We know. There are ways of helping you without anyone finding out.’

Aida closed her eyes and exhaled.

‘Is this Paradise?’ she whispered.

The answer came from far away – she was drifting off again.

‘Yes,’ the woman replied. ‘We’re going to take care of you.’

Interludes of sleep and consciousness had alternated all night. Sofia Katarina had been confused, frightened and sentimental in turn.

After performing a brief examination, the physiotherapist submitted a disheartening report

‘Her functional capacity on the right-hand side is very poor,’ the physiotherapist said. ‘This is going to require a lot of effort.’

‘What do you have to do to regain mobility?’ Annika asked.

The woman gave her a faint smile.

‘The problem is not in the limbs, it’s in the head. There isn’t any treatment that can revive dead nerve cells. That’s why we need to focus on the ones that are left. Nerve cells that remain intact, but happen to be inactive, need to be activated. You can do this with several different types of physiotherapy.’

‘But will she get well?’

‘It might take six months before you can see any results. The most important thing right now is to get started soon and to keep up treatment.’

Annika swallowed.

‘What can I do?’

The physiotherapist took her hand and smiled.

‘Do what you’ve been doing. Care. Talk to her, get her involved, sing old songs with her. You’ll notice that she’ll like to talk about the past. Let her do so.’

‘But when will she be herself again?’

‘Your grandmother will never be her old self again.’

Annika blinked. A bottomless pit opened up and she felt panic creeping up on her.

‘How am I supposed to deal with this? She’s always been the strong one.’

Her voice was too shrill, desperate.

‘Well, now you’ll have to be strong for her sake.’

The physiotherapist patted her hand, Annika didn’t notice her leaving.

‘Gran,’ she whispered, stroking the woman’s hand.

But the old lady slept. The sounds of the day crept in through the crack in the door and spread throughout the cramped little room. Even though Annika had woken up often and hadn’t got much sleep, she felt all geared up, restless to the point of being hyperactive.

She had to arrange for a place that could rehabilitate her grandmother in the best way. Lövåsen wasn’t the right place, she was absolutely convinced of that. All edgy, she got up and paced around the room over and over again. Her leg hurt, her finger throbbed.

There had to be other alternatives – private nursing homes, service flats, home nursing.

Annika didn’t notice the door opening, she simply felt the draught around her ankles.

It was the female doctor again, followed by Annika’s mink-clad mother.

‘We are going to discuss Sofia’s future,’ the doctor said, and Annika grabbed her things and joined them.

‘I can’t nurse her at home,’ her mother said once they had parked themselves in the doctor’s office. ‘I have a job.’

‘Barbro, you would be entitled to care allowance if you took care of your mother, you know,’ the doctor informed her.

Annika’s mother fidgeted.

‘I’m not ready to give up my career.’

Something snapped inside Annika. The lack of sleep, the absence of any affection on her mother’s part, and the fact that nothing was making any sense any more made her brain explode. She got up and started shouting.

‘You’re only a substitute at the checkout stand over at the Co-op, for Christ’s sake! What’s stopping you from taking care of Gran?’

‘Sit down,’ the doctor commanded.

‘Damned if I will!’ Annika shouted, still standing, her voice unsteady, her legs trembling. ‘None of you give a damn about Gran! You want to shut her away in that miserable excuse for a home at Lövåsen and throw away the key. I know what it’s like there! I wrote about it! Neglect, understaffing, medicine mix-ups!’

The doctor got to her feet and approached Annika.

‘Either you sit down,’ she said calmly, ‘or you leave.’

Annika rubbed her forehead, feeling weak. She sat down again. Barbro fingered her fur, looking for understanding in the doctor’s eyes.
Now you know what I have to put up with
.

‘Lövåsen would have been a satisfactory alternative . . .’