Nothing. Not a soul in sight.
Why was no one at home this evening? It was so unfair.
She tried to judge the distance from the walkway to the ground. Could she jump? It must be at least sixty feet. She would probably kill herself on the rocks if she tried.
It must be possible to signal somehow. There had to be someone out there who would pick up a signal. Nora went through her pockets again. In the first she found only a pair of gloves, in the second a wrapper, a five-kronor piece, lip balm, and a box of matches.
Matches.
Could she set fire to something, then use it as a distress signal?
Her arms and legs were beginning to feel heavy; yet another sign that there was too much insulin in her body. She tried to ignore the feeling and concentrate on the task at hand.
The light from the lamp in the lantern room was a relief. It was ghostly, but somehow it made her feel more secure. It was a reminder of life. The prisms of light shone in the green glow as Nora looked at the piece of material wrapped around the lens.
Linen would burn, and it would burn quickly. She tried to remember what she had seen in the rest of the lighthouse earlier in the day. Hadn’t the doors on the landings been held open with wooden wedges? And hadn’t there been piles of wood shavings next to them?
She climbed back down and felt her way along the bottom of the door. Her fingers found the wedge holding it open. Underneath the iron steps she found several bits of wood and some shavings. She gathered everything into a pile and went down to the next level, where she found another small wedge, along with more sawdust and some sticks. Cautiously, she edged over to the blind passageway opposite her treasure trove. Bingo! She discovered a whole plank about a foot long as far as she could tell in the darkness. That would burn for a decent amount of time.
But it was getting harder to fight the exhaustion, to keep her mind clear, and her limbs were getting heavier and heavier. Cold sweat was trickling down the back of her neck.
She tucked the bits of wood and shavings into her jacket and carried them up to the lantern room. Carefully she arranged them in a pile around the piece of linen, which would be best on the inside. She heaped the shavings on top. The green lamp flashed every ten seconds, giving her just enough light to see what she was doing.
She managed to get the pile in the right place on top of the light prisms. She checked that the small air vent down in the corner was open. The fear of dying from smoke inhalation had already been superseded by the realization that she was on the point of hypoglycemic shock.
She was finding it harder to focus and had to keep blinking to see clearly. She knew she would have to make her way down from the lantern room as soon as her makeshift bonfire began to burn; she had to get as far away from the fire as possible.
With shaking fingers she struck a match. In the glow of its flame she could see her own reflection in the glass wall. Eyes wide open, terrified. Her face was tense and gray.
Was this what you looked like when you were about to die?
She brought the match to the linen, but nothing happened. She struck another match. And another. Still nothing.
In despair she struck three matches at once and held them right up against the fabric. At first it looked as if they too were going to burn out, but suddenly the fabric glowed red and burst into flames.
Nora breathed out. She couldn’t suppress a sob of relief. The fire had really caught hold. One of the pieces of wood began to burn, and the orange flames spread.
Feeling dizzy, she backed away and edged down the steps. Every movement was torture. She felt as if her body were full of lead. She clutched the rail with both hands so she wouldn’t lose her balance.
“Don’t go to sleep,” she said to herself like a mantra. “Don’t go to sleep, for God’s sake. Stay awake.”
She crawled backward down to the last landing, where Signe had locked the door from the other side. The acrid smell of smoke followed her.
She was so tired. All she wanted was to lie down and close her eyes. For a second she thought about the air vent in the lantern room, hoping that it would let in enough oxygen so she wouldn’t be suffocated by the smoke. Then she just didn’t have the strength to think about it anymore.
With one final effort she crawled over to the locked door, as far away from the fire as possible.
SATURDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK
CHAPTER 75
Thomas’s cell phone was ringing. It was 12:43.
“Hello,” he said sleepily.
“It’s Henrik.”
Thomas sat up in bed. His instinct as a police officer kicked in immediately. Henrik would never call him in the middle of the night without a reason. “What’s happened?”
There was a brief pause, then Henrik spoke. “I know it’s late, but I just got back from the twenty-four-hour race. Nora isn’t here. Her bed hasn’t been slept in. There’s no note in the kitchen. She’s just disappeared.”
“Did you have a fight?” The question was automatic, before Thomas could stop himself. He knew that the atmosphere in the Linde family hadn’t been great over the last week or so. Nora hadn’t gone into details, but he had realized that her job prospect in Malmö hadn’t been met with enthusiasm.
“You don’t understand.” There was no mistaking the impatience in Henrik’s voice. “We had a fight before I left for the race, but this isn’t like her. Nora would never just disappear. In view of everything that’s happened lately, I’m not prepared to take any risks. This is serious.”
Thomas didn’t push it. “Have you tried calling her?”
“Of course I’ve tried that, but it just goes to voice mail. It rings several times first, though, so it’s not switched off.”
Thomas could feel a heavy lump in his stomach. Henrik was absolutely right. This wasn’t like Nora. She was a lawyer who liked to keep everything in order; she always kept in touch. “Might she have gone to the bar or the restaurant at the Yacht Club? Have you spoken to her parents?”
“Yes. They were already asleep when I got back. According to Susanne, the boys are staying over with them tonight and going out with their grandfather to lay nets first thing in the morning. Nora said she was tired and going to have an early night with her book.”
“Are you absolutely certain she’s not just having a glass of wine with one of the neighbors?”
“At this time of night? Nora’s useless when it comes to staying up late—you know that. She’s always out of it by midnight. Something must have happened.” The irritation in Henrik’s voice had turned into fear.
Thomas started to pull on a pair of jeans as he talked to Henrik. His entire body was tense. “Is the launch still there?”
“I’ve checked, and she’s still moored at the jetty.”
Thomas was already on his way. “I’ll come right over. I’ll use the Buster; it’ll only take fifteen minutes. Just check the Divers Bar and the club to be on the safe side. If we’re lucky, she might be sitting there with a glass of red wine.”
Thomas grabbed a sweater and ran down to the jetty. He was glad he had decided to buy a decent motorboat last summer. His Buster Magnum was solid and reliable, and she could easily do thirty-five knots when necessary.