can hardly hear you,” he interrupted.
“It was nothing,” she said.
“I waited for you to come back, anyway.”
Jana sighed, opened a cupboard and stretched on her tiptoes to reach a soup bowl.
“Why is that?” she asked.
“I was going to tell you something about a person in whom you might be interested...”
“A person?”
“Yes, a person who is now an escapee.”
“And who is that?” she said.
“Danilo Peña.”
The bowl slipped from her hands and broke on the tile floor. She tried to process the significance of Per’s words, but it was hard to compose her thoughts as they raced around in her head. What? How had her nemesis, Danilo, escaped? It couldn’t be true. Per must have said the wrong name, she thought.
“Could you say that again?” she said in an attempt to stay calm.
“You remember Danilo Peña, right?” he asked. “The Thai women, narcotics smuggling?”
“I remember,” she said curtly.
“He escaped from the hospital today.”
She leaned forward, supporting herself with her hand on the kitchen counter.
“And what are the police saying?” she asked.
“At the moment they have no knowledge of where he could be but believe that he’s still in town. I’d love to tell you more over dinner.”
“Dinner?” she asked.
“Yes—I left you a message about dinner. Asking if you’d like to come to my place for filet mignon tonight.”
“Oh, well...I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“But you have to...”
“...eat, I know.”
Suddenly, she heard something knocking and stiffened. Slowly, she went out of the kitchen, looked down the dark hallway at the jackets and shoes and then into the bedroom.
“Hello?” Per said.
“Yes?” she replied.
“You don’t even have to walk. I can come and get you, and later I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s only a mile, Per.”
“How can you say no to filet mignon?”
“I don’t know...” she said, walking back to the kitchen. The light from the television colored the tile floor red, blue and white.
“I have a hard time understanding you sometimes,” he said, and she realized she’d fallen silent again.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, hanging up.
She looked at the remains of the broken dish and picked them up, one after another, and tossed them in the garbage.
Then she stood at the kitchen counter to cut another piece of bread, but the knife wasn’t there.
She looked around, thinking that maybe she had put the knife back in the block, but the slot was empty.
She muted the television. She listened carefully to the sounds of the apartment, but she heard only her own breathing.
Her hand steady, she took a second knife from the block, gripped it securely and moved slowly toward the dark entrance to the living room.
The adrenaline pulsed through her body and heightened her senses, as she became more and more convinced that she wasn’t alone in the apartment.
Her eyes scanned around the living room, seeing the contours of furniture, and then the wall. She hesitated for just a moment before reaching out and flipping the light on.
What she saw made her blood freeze.
She stood still, unable to move, not fully comprehending what she was looking at.
The man on the sofa smiled at her.
“So we meet again,” he said.
Danilo.
HER BLACK NYLON skirt had inched up too high around her waist. She yanked it down, knowing it was far too short to be appropriate, but at Harry’s, no one cared about appropriateness. They only cared about long, sexy legs.
Which Mia Bolander had known for a long time that she didn’t have.
But she had a pretty smile!
Her teeth were chattering as she crossed the tram tracks. She hadn’t bothered wearing a jacket. The fee for the coat check was too high—three dollars a night would add up to a significant monthly expenditure.
The chilly evening breeze played with her hair as she turned off Sandgatan. She looked at the construction cranes standing there and thought about how the naked blocks of concrete would soon become incredibly expensive condos. The ground floor was reserved for businesses and was sure to contain a pizzeria.
How fucking original.
Her fingers had become frozen stiff by the time she passed Strömparken. She tried imagining she was in some warm country like Spain, on the way to a club or bar without having to freeze her ass off.
Another five minutes and she had finally arrived.
There was a throng of people outside Harry’s. She estimated maybe thirty people were waiting in line. Men and women with low shoes and high heels, tight shirts and plunging necklines, torn jeans and sparkly dresses.
A good night, in other words.
Mia pushed her way forward, and the bouncer waved her in. A few people whistled and muttered when she went past. She was a single woman moving slowly forward through a crowd, and in that moment, she was relishing the attention.
Men noticed her.
The music was deafening when she entered the bar. She worked her way in and studied a small group of about ten people, mostly men.
She kept her distance, watching them silently but with a wide smile on her face. She let her gaze rest on each of them for a few seconds, and prepared for the questions she could ask. It wasn’t a problem if a guy had a ring on his finger or mentioned children—quite the opposite, really. It could lead to more questions, like: What are your kids’ names? Are
