"Thank you, Kjell," Jakob's eyes suddenly glisten with a watery sheen.
With a strained smile, I bid him farewell and set out with my camera. As I step out of the old building that houses our small newsroom, the cool late autumn air envelops me. I shiver and zip up my leather jacket. The lining presses against my unshaven chin, providing at least a bit of warmth. The last rays of sunlight illuminate Stockholm's facades, and the sky glows in an intense mix of orange and pink, the way it only does when winter approaches.
I march to the subway station and retrieve my phone from my pocket while waiting. Where do I start my research?
When I open the browser, my mother calls.
I feel sick. After all these years, she still won't give up. Will it ever end?
With tightly pressed lips, I decline the call and focus on my mission again.
TheKarolinska University Hospitalhas two locations. Accident victims are usually admitted to Solna. Maybe he has already been transferred to another hospital. Nevertheless, I will find the first traces only there.
A gust of wind tugs at my jeans, and the subway's rumbling grows louder until it finally stops in front of me. Without looking up from my phone, I board the train.
I could inquire at the emergency department. Or with the fire department. I sink deeper into my thoughts, envisioning different scenarios and trying to connect the dots based on the scant online facts.
Only when my stop is announced do I look up and put my phone back in my pocket. The information remains in my mind, a tangled mess I want to sort out.
I step out into the open, bury my hands in my pockets, and start walking.
There are countless reports about Blohm's fashion empire,Touch av lyx. But about him as a private person? Almost nothing.
That is definitely strange.
The hospital complex looms in front of me. Why is he isolating himself? Does he have a family? A lover, perhaps? Or maybe he's a member of one of those cults that hides from the public eye?
Lost in thought, I approach the main entrance and reach for the door handle.
Out of nowhere, someone pushes me aside. Red hair suddenly surrounds my face.
"Yeah, I know what you said this morning. And at noon. And an hour ago," a desperate female voice says. "Please, Lil, don't do this to me."
I free myself from the hair and try to step aside, but at that moment, something pierces my right sneaker. A sharp pain runs through me.
Damn. What is that?
My eyes jerk downward. The redhead is standing on my foot with the pencil heel of her shoe.
"Hey," I exclaim accusingly, but she doesn't seem to notice me at all.
"I came all the way here for this," she sighs heavily and forcefully pushes open the hospital's entrance door.
The heavy glass door is rushing toward me. Thinking quickly, I lean to the side since I can't step back with the redhead still standing on my foot.
"Dammit, what's the matter?" I shout at her in pain.
She turns her head toward me, the phone pressed tightly to her ear, staring at me with wide-open eyes.
And I stare back. I've seen this woman before!
Back then, she had blond hair, but I remember her narrow nose with pale freckles, pronounced cheekbones, and a high forehead. I also remember the egocentric monster that hid behind her pretty facade, just the same.
I'll never forget how she and her friends treated me almost every night at Polarnatt that summer, like a doormat. As if I were her damn servant.
"What?" she asks me now, visibly stressed.
What?
In a frantic motion, she brushes her hair away from her face. "One moment, please, Lil," she says into the phone, then fixes her gaze on me with a questioning expression. I can clearly see in her look that she has no idea who I am or what I want from her. "Can I help you?"
I'm not surprised that she doesn't remember me. After all, back then, she held her nose so high she could only see the club's lighting effects. And the fact that she hasn't noticed that her heel is seemingly an inch deep in the arch of my foot shows that she still does.
Without saying a word, I gesture downward. Her gaze follows but immediately returns to me, a puzzled expression on her face. It's only now that I realize she's not standing on my foot anymore.
When did that happen?
With a perplexed expression, she turns away. "If he's angry, I'll take the blame," she tells her phone conversation partner, shoots me a reproachful look, and slips through the door. "Thanks, Lil." She sighs wearily before disappearing into the hospital lobby without further acknowledging my presence.
