The call had come in at 8:34 a.m. from a woman named Sussie Anander. She had been completely hysterical, screaming at the emergency operator. Now she stood there silently in the stairwell as Gabriel came through the door. He nodded at her but didn’t stop, leaving her with his colleague Hanna Hultman as he continued up the stairs, taking two at a time. He smelled cigarettes and trash and heard loud, upset voices from the first floor. He ran up to the fourth floor, not bothering to use the loose handrail.

It was not the first time Gabriel had answered a call knowing someone was seriously hurt or even dead. Not infrequently, parents were the ones who suspected that their son or daughter was in trouble, that they were lying unconscious or unable to call for help. Sometimes it was a false alarm and the person in question had knowingly avoided contact, ignored phone calls or for various reasons ignored their loved ones, who then became unnecessarily anxious. But Gabriel had also found young women who had cut themselves so badly that they had bled to death, or women who had been abused so severely that they died, or men who had attempted suicide. And been successful.

Gabriel heard the sound of sniffling and then Hanna’s calm voice from below. He listened for a moment before putting on the gloves he kept in his pocket, reaching forward and turning the door handle. The door swung open softly.

He stepped inside. Everything was quiet and still. The upset voices were no longer audible. He saw three pairs of shoes, a lined denim jacket and a guitar case in the entryway. He closed the front door behind him, wiped his shoes on the mat and went into the apartment. The drapes were closed and it smelled musty. The apartment was silent.

He continued across the floor.

First he saw a TV sitting on a low table, its screen black. Then he saw the young man with eight black stars on his temple.

Gabriel could have believed he was sleeping if it weren’t for the deep cut around his neck.

* * *

Pim moved toward the door, but she couldn’t quite reach it. The ropes still restricted her movement. Fingers trembling, she felt along the wall, searching for cracks, loose boards, anything that might help get her out of this room.

She searched around the dark steps that led to an upper floor, picked off small splinters from the floor, felt along the door frame.

A little bit of light trickled in from somewhere outside the room. It was the only thing preventing her from sitting in complete darkness.

She had to hurry. The last time she received food, she had only had five minutes to eat the dry bread before the man returned.

She felt along the floor with both palms. When she reached the bucket, she paused, sitting, staring at the capsules that lay there in the disgusting muck.