Because the two were connected.

“Hunted. And hunting. What do you say—can I go?”

She smiled again, a smile you could linger in, lean against, someone who knew him at least a little.

“Go. I’ll call if I need you. See you in ten hours.”

He hurried over to the door and was just opening it when he heard her voice behind him.

“Two flaps above the eyes?”

He turned around.

“Perfect.”

“The nose—a little crooked? With large wings of the nose?”

“Sounds good.”

“And I was thinking . . . maybe sort of bloated? It’s been a while. Jaw. Cheeks. And a bit of a belly.”

“Great. Thanks.”

•   •   •

Early afternoon and traffic was still relatively sparse. He crossed the old bridge at Skanstull, headed eastward past South Hammarby Port. Shut down. That’s what he was. Because that’s all he could stand.

Forward, forward never letting himself feel.

Because if he did, if he lost this tunnel vision, let the other reality in, he’d never make it. If he gave in, took out his phone and called Zofia or Hugo or Rasmus just to hear their voices, if he let his own longing get out of hand, then no one would make it to safety.

Forward, forward.

The apartment was in the neighborhood called Tallbacken. The building itself was on a low hill, a large horseshoe-shaped complex with many different entrances and addresses. Number 37 was his destination. A green balcony behind an equally green hedge sat to the left of the front door. He recognized it from the brochure, the dirty yellow umbrella, the string of Chinese lanterns hanging above it like the branches of a very lean fruit tree. He entered the apartment building, went to the door of his apartment, and took out the keys that were the symbol of a completed home purchase. A security door. Two locks, in class 7 and class 6, as promised in the fine print on the website. He opened the door, stepped into the hall. Just a few hours ago people were walking around in here, drinking their coffee, waiting their turn to use the bathroom, looking out the window at a familiar view. They’d left the beds behind as promised, one double and two twins. Luiza would have to sleep with her mother, as she did for the first few months of her life. Kitchen table, kitchen chairs, even a corner sofa in the living room and a TV that should keep Rasmus and Hugo fairly occupied for a few days. It was relatively clean and there were a few sets of keys on the counter, marked Basement and Attic and Laundry Room. It had a particular smell. Their smell, whoever they were. Not bad, just theirs, just like all families have a particular smell that’s obvious to everyone but them. He wondered how his family smelled, how much came from him and how much from Zofia and the children.