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Irma Goodwin stops in the doorway.

‘Add some Macrolide to the antibiotics,’ she says decisively. ‘One gram of Erythromycin, intravenous.’

The nurse looks up.

‘You think he’s got Legionnaires’ disease?’ she asks in surprise.

‘Let’s see what the test—’

Irma Goodwin falls silent as the patient’s body starts to jerk. She looks at his white face and sees him slowly open his eyes.

‘I’ve got to get home,’ he whispers. ‘My name is Mikael Kohler-Frost, and I’ve got to get home …’

‘Mikael Kohler-Frost,’ Irma says. ‘You’re in Södermalm Hospital, and—’

‘She’s screaming, all the time!’

Irma leaves the treatment room and half-runs to her office. She closes the door behind her, puts on her reading glasses, sits down at her computer and logs in. She can’t find him in the health service database and tries the national population register instead.

She finds him there.

Irma Goodwin unconsciously rubs the empty place on her ring finger and rereads the information about the patient in the emergency room.

Mikael Kohler-Frost has been dead for seven years, and is buried in Malsta cemetery, in the parish of Norrtälje.