The blonde man in front of him looks to the left and nods politely without recognizing him.

"What do you mean?"

Fredericsson nods back absently before looking at the floor and walking faster.

"Say that again. You never talked to him?!"

Eric steps to the left in the elevator trying to hide from Fredericsson. But his voice and steps have already disappeared. The doors of the elevator are moving but are held back by the blonde man who now looks directly at him. Eric can only focus on his tanned face which shows clear signs of an outdoor life. Eric rubs his eyes and turns to face him. Fredericsson is gone, the exit is closing behind him. He nods at the man and leaves the elevator.

"I hope I didn't scare you."

A feeling of inadequacy makes his stomach retract. "Of course he has a voice to match his looks." Eric tries to get past him but feels someone grabbing his upper arm, gets scared and stops.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

Eric nods and tries to escape but the man holds on.

"You don't look OK."

Eric tears himself free.

"And what do you care?"

"Sorry, but we're in a hospital and you look terrible."

Eric is really angry.

"Well, we can't all look like models and talk like movie stars."

The man lets go of Eric's arm and steps back. Then he shakes his head and walks past him.

"If you ever need help."

He turns around and gives Eric his card.

"You never know."

Eric doesn't take it, and the man lets it fall. Eric stares at the card on the marble floor in front of him.

"Private investigator, what makes him think I need a private investigator?"

Eric rocks back and forth on his feet while watching the card.

"Hmm."

He keeps moving back and forth a little and then he stops.

"After tonight. Maybe."

Eric picks up the card and puts it in his pocket as he walks toward the exit. Once again he gathers his jacket around himself. He watches the rain which is worse now than it was earlier in the evening and then he finally steps out into it.

When the elevator doors open, the man takes off his suede jacket and holds on to it in one hand with a firm grip as he walks quickly over to the nurse.

"Excuse me, where can I find Margret Jones?"

The nurse looks at him while stepping in front of the door behind her. Her movements stir something in the man's eyes and he looks over her shoulder.

"What are you to Margret Jones?"

He moves his head a bit and sees a blonde woman, who slowly turns her head and their eyes meet.

"I'm her son."

He nods at Evy over the nurse's head before looking down at her very short, dark hair. With a friendly smile he says.

"Where is my mother?"

The doors of the elevator opens and a police officer steps out, removing the rain from the brim of his hat with his hand. The nurse lets out a small sigh.

"Now we can relax again."

She starts walking toward the officer, but quickly turns around to face the blonde man who is looking with curiosity into the room in front of him.

"Hey."

The nurse speaks in a low and calm voice. The man turns to face her, and she's surprised at how easy his movements are. From his weather beaten face, she had judged him to be around 60, but she's beginning to suspect that he's actually a lot younger. He smiles at her kindly.

"Wait a second and I'll take you to your mother. I don't know if you know this, but I'm afraid it doesn't look good."

The man nods.

"What's your name?"

"Marc Jones."

"Is it OK if I call you Marc?"

He nods again and some strands of blonde hair fall down over his forehead.

"Yes, I know. I talked to the doctor earlier. I came as fast as I could."

Then she looks at the police officer.

"Where would you like to be?"

"Which room is it?"

"This one right here."

"In front of the door is fine. Do you have a chair?"

"Of course."

She disappears and returns quickly with a chair which she places in front of the door to Evy's room.

"Is this OK?"

She looks up at the officer who is standing next to her. He nods in Evy's direction.

"Is that her?"

The nurse nods.

"OK, then I have all I need."

The nurse turns around.

"Her room is down here."

She touches the blonde man's arm lightly and walks down the hall.

"It'll soon be over. I think you should stay for the rest of the night. For some reason, the early hours of the morning are the hardest... to be frank, that's when people are most likely to die."

The nurse's voice is almost gone when the officer sits down. The chair makes a loud noise when he tries to tilt it so that he can rest his back against the wall. Then the voices are gone.

Chapter 10.

"Yuk!"

The smell in the underground parking lot hits him in the face and he feels an overwhelming need to cough. He is badly shaken after the scene at the doctor, and he feels a small amount of relief when he leans against the car. He bends his head and looks at the oil stains of many shapes and colors on the concrete floor below him. Then he lets his hand slide down over his face and takes a deep breath. He puts his hands against the car and sways a little before putting all his weight back on his legs. Slowly he gets into the car. He looks at the leather seat beside him. "No one has ever sat in that seat." He looks up, moving his hands back and forth over the leather steering wheel. His eyes can't find any focus as the minutes go by one by one. The sounds of people and cars coming and going soon get tedious and the darkness outside has become ma.s.sive and ruthless. The figure of a woman slides by his window with smooth movements and the door of the car next to him is opened. She gets in and as she closes the door she looks at him. Her face lights up in a polite smile, before she turns her head and looks at the man in the driver's seat next to her. The sigh that now fills Nathan's car is sad and heartfelt. It's as if it holds all the pain and confusion of what has happened today. In the rear view mirror he watches the car drive off silently. His body seems to slowly wake up from being in the same position for so long. He puts the car in reverse and quickly steps on the gas. For a moment, the car is moving, but then he's thrown forward when it suddenly stops.

"Oh, why did I have to buy a car with stick shift?!"

His body is tense as he turns the key again. The engine starts and he slowly backs out and leaves the parking lot in high speed. He looks at the dimly lit clock on the dashboard.

"Hmm, I'm late. Very late."

He makes a face. "They've always waited for me in court... but this is not court..." The traffic is with him and he finds a parking spot close to the elevator. He turns and looks at the backseat, but suddenly remembers that he hasn't brought anything with him. He stares at the backseat lost before getting out with difficulty. He has trouble breathing and this time he gives in to the cough.

"Are you OK?"

He feels a hand being placed gently on his shoulder and jumps.

"Oh, I didn't mean to scare you. I was afraid you were having an asthmatic attack. My oldest son has asthma, so I always notice when I hear someone breathing with difficulty. But are you OK?"

Nathan nods and feels a wave of grat.i.tude. Then he smiles sincerely.

"Yes, thank you. I was just struggling with a difficult decision."

She nods.

"Yes, I know how that feels, but I have realized that..."

She turns and walks over to the elevator. Without thinking, Nathan follows her. Then he understands why he didn't hear her coming. She's wearing sneakers. A very faint smell of sweat follows her. Nathan sniffs and finds the smell pleasant. Not bad and pungent but faint and feminine.

"...that the first impulse, for me anyway, has almost always turned out to be the right one. When I have changed it, it has often been changed into something that shouldn't have been."

Nathan listens to her absentmindedly, but still her words get through to him. He looks at her face as he nods and smiles.

"We had actually decided not to have another baby because of the asthma in the family, but it just happened and my first thought was, that of course we were going to have that baby, and my intuitive answer was: Of course! We have never regretted that decision."

"Do you have any kids?"

Her face and her movements reveal how well-groomed she is. She has no make-up on but has dark eyelashes, either from color or mascara, just the way Denize preferred it. Nathan is surprised. In this city, you don't often see women without make-up. She looks at him and asks again: "Do you have kids?"

Nathan smiles.

"No, unfortunately we never had any. We met late in life."

They stop in front of the elevator and before Nathan can reach out and press the b.u.t.ton, she has already done it.

"And none of you had any kids from previous relationships?"

Nathan studies her face and suddenly he wants so much to tell her his story. Then there's a small sound and the elevator doors open. He just shakes his head.

"You look like someone who likes kids."

She turns and walks into the elevator. In the mirror, Nathan can see how tired he looks. His body is slightly bent and his eyes are dull. He twitches at the thought of the mirror in the apartment where he now knows that Evy lives, and trembles a little when he sees the images before him. There's a firm grip on his arm.

"Are you sure you're OK. You don't seem OK."

Her brown eyes are warm and sincere and contradict how he already sees her, as a modern woman who's a business woman at day and a mother at night. He has always thought that those women were faking their maternal feelings and judged them to be pretty hard on both their children and their husbands. Actually, the men in their lives were just something that came with the package, but now he's not so sure. He nods.

"I'm OK."

He tries to smile.

"That must be a tough decision, not to have kids. Which floor?"

Nathan seems surprised, and she nods at the elevator b.u.t.tons.

"Oh, yes, of course. Hang on."