He had to stop at a red light and leaned forward as far as possible over the steering wheel to anticipate the very second the light was going to turn green. He kept his foot on the pedal and revved the engine.

“We’re almost there,” he said, trying to sound calm, controlled. He wanted to show that he had control over the situation, that he wasn’t worried.

But his faltering voice betrayed him.

* * *

The road split.

Jana Berzelius chose to stay to the left but was forced to turn around when she came to a barrier. She then drove a mile and a half down the other road, to the right, and parked at a wayside behind a pile of logs.

She checked that the knife was where it was supposed to be, right at the small of her back, before she began walking toward the sea. She moved quickly, feeling the adrenaline surging with every step she took. She looked forward to meeting him again.

You and me, Danilo!

Suddenly, she was blinded by the strong glare. Instinctively she put her hand to her lower back. She followed the light between the trees, until it disappeared. She was sure that she was on the right path now.

Her steps became more and more eager, and she had to force herself to stop, telling herself to calm down, be careful, take no unnecessary risks.

The forest became sparse, and the sound of the sea became stronger the closer she came to the cliffs. She looked all around as she walked but saw nothing other than trees and snow. She ran the last bit, stopped dead at the edge by the sea and again felt disappointment rise in her throat.

Not a single building as far as the eye could see.

Only cliffs and sea.

She was just about to turn back when she caught sight of a wooden post in the sea. It stuck up among the ice floes, not far from where she stood. She climbed down the rocky cliffs, slipping and sliding several times. She saw poles sticking up out of the freezing water and now realized there was a whole pier between them.

She looked around, trying to find a better way to get closer to the water, but was forced to go back around some spruce trees that had grown misshapen in the constant strong winds from the sea. She pushed away their branches but was repeatedly whipped in the face. Her cheeks were stinging, but she didn’t care. All of her attention was fixed on getting down to the water.

When she finally reached her goal, she froze.

She blinked once.

She thought she was seeing things, but she wasn’t.

There was the boathouse.

* * *