She straightened her fingers and looked at her palms for marks from her fingernails, but there were none. So it was as she had thought. It hadn’t been the usual dream.

Raising herself on one elbow, she touched her necklace and decided there wasn’t any reason to go back to sleep. Best to get up.

She reached for her phone and saw a missed call from Henrik Levin. Already?

She sat up, hit “Call Back” and waited for him to answer.

“Henrik,” he said.

“You called. What’s up?” she asked.

“I’m sorry for calling so early, but we’ve found the woman who had disappeared from the train. Everything points to that, at least.”

“Is she alive?”

“Yes.”

“I’m on my way.”

* * *

The chair creaked as Henrik Levin sat down beside Mia Bolander in the Intensive Care Unit of Vrinnevi Hospital. Both looked at the woman who lay with a slightly vacant expression in the hospital bed. They had no trouble recognizing her face, which they had studied in photographs from the security camera at Central Station.

A male interpreter was also sitting in the room; he had been called in to ensure there were no misunderstandings during the conversation.

The room was filled with hissing and ticking sounds from the machines monitoring her respiratory rate, pulse and heart rhythm.

Just then, there was a careful knock at the door and Jana Berzelius stepped in. She quickly greeted Henrik and Mia and sat down next to them.

It could be intimidating to be surrounded by two police officers, a prosecutor and an interpreter, so they decided that Henrik would lead the conversation. It was important to build trust.

“You haven’t begun yet?” Jana whispered to Henrik.

“No, I’ve been waiting a little.”

The woman coughed, and Henrik looked from the bandage around her wrists and the dressed wounds on her arms, to what he could see above the blanket of the abrasions and bruises that covered her body, to the IV in the crook of her arm.

Her general condition was poor, the doctor had said. She had a high fever but her body was shivering as if she were still suffering from hypothermia as a result of the freezing winter night.

The doctor had explained that three of her toes had signs of frostbite. They might have to be amputated, but the doctor didn’t want to make the call yet. The spread of necrosis was difficult to determine and they wanted to wait before making the decision.

The woman lay straight with her arms by her side above the blanket. On the table next to the bed was a glass of warm water that the nurse helped her drink before she would allow the two police officers to ask their questions.

“The door is locked?” the woman asked. “Is it? Have you locked it?”

“You are safe now,” Henrik said calmly.