Glenda

— No, you will give them to us.

— But how are they lying in his room?

— Go get them. Think of something. Say you want to take a toy for special guests.

Nodding uncertainly, the guy unbuttoned his shirt so that the security would not have any more questions than why he had left, and disappeared into the corridor.

— What do you think, will he come back?

— I'm one hundred percent sure. He's scared, but he's not stupid. By ridding the world of this bitch, his life will also become a little calmer.

— Don't think. This guy is a prostitute. Every day could be like his last.

— But in Denmark it is allowed as a second job, is it really that dangerous?

— In Denmark, fifteen percent of the population has HIV.

— But you also have quite good medicines.

— I won't argue. I don't think he will return. We have nothing to wait for. We can leave, we found out what we need, and tomorrow we will go to the hospital.

But then Cowboy came into the room with a small stack of yellow paper envelopes. Hope and a slight smile appeared on his face, although his hands were shaking.

Glenda opened one of them.

“My dear Penny, I won’t come today. Here's a little compensation for an evening of downtime. Don't even think about sleeping with anyone. Go for a walk or go to the cinema. And tomorrow we'll have fun. Your Mrs. S."

The three spent the rest of the hour searching for various clues in the notes. Glenda simply refused to read the disgusting perversions and immediately passed them on to Iver; no one could do this to her Jornas. But what was remarkable was that everywhere she signed herself as Mrs. with different letters of the alphabet. The handwriting was the same everywhere, but the initials were different.

— Thank you, boy. You helped out a lot. Come on, don't get sick. — At the end of the hour Larsen said.

“You will save me?” the guy took hold of Glenda’s brush as if she was his last hope.

— Certainly. — the girl smiled and carefully disentangled herself from the handshake.

The door was opened by the same Hans.

“Will you extend it?” he asked rudely.

— No thanks. We're already leaving.

And then, in the red twilight, through the open door in the reflection of the corridor mirror, Glenda saw a picture that almost stopped her heart. Wild primitive horror froze every muscle.

In the reflection, she saw herself missing half of her face. A bloody laceration gaped from the top of his head to his cheek. There was something whitish among this pile of carmine-colored meat — the eyeball in the soft tissue was still sitting in the socket.

— What happened to you? — the question of Iver, who ran into Glenda, who suddenly stopped as she was leaving, brought her to her senses.

She looked into the reflection again, but didn't see anything like that there. The girl is like a girl, beautiful, healthy.

— Everything is fine, just a little tired.

— Yes, let's go to bed now. We won't know anything today anyway. We have now found out that this lady is married. Now the circle has narrowed significantly. And all thanks to you.

— I'm glad I could be useful.

Chapter 6

Larsen's apartment turned out to be not so spacious. More like a disorganized studio. Two small rooms that barely fit a narrow bed and a wardrobe, and a kitchen combined with a hallway, where there was a table in the center, a sofa on one side, and two chairs from Ikea on the other.

— This is my bachelor's home. Don’t be surprised by the chaos, I’m just rarely at home and don’t get around to tidying up my hands.

— What are you talking about, it’s very cozy here.

— Wine?

— No thanks. I won't give up sleeping pills.

— Oh, I don’t use this stuff. — Iver winced. — What happened, are you tired? Trouble sleeping?

— No. You're right, I'll fall asleep anyway. — She followed the owner of the apartment into one of the bedrooms. He handed her a towel and bed linen.

— It’s not very beautiful here, but it’s far from your ill-fated home.

— Speaking of the house, tell me why you insisted on buying it? Glenda narrowed her eyes. This really seemed strange to her, because the house turned out to be cursed, and here Iver offered to stay with him. — This is to lure me to you. Are you a maniac in uniform or what? Immunity and all that? You rape young girls, and no one will even suspect you?

“Well, yes, that’s why I said several times in front of Jack today that you were going to spend the night with me.” The man with ashen hair and blue eyes just grinned. — Go to bed, beauty, you are really tired today.

He left, closing the door behind him. And Glenda was left alone in four square meters with her fears.

Falling asleep was indeed not difficult, but the hardest part began after she was completely immersed in sleep.

The ocean-cold water soaked all my clothes and touched my skin with its entire volume. Or maybe it’s the sea, pressing on her like a tyrant? There is no shore or bottom around, only light barely penetrating into the thickness of the icy despot above her. Ten or twenty meters to the surface, and every moment she sank deeper and deeper into this bottomless space like a black hole. There was no longer any strength to hold my breath and Glenda opened her mouth. Her lungs filled with salty water pressure and… She woke up.

— Father! — burst out of his chest, and an alarmed Iver ran into the room.

— Baby, were you calling someone?

— No, sorry. I had a nightmare. Everything is OK now. — wiping sweat from the back of her neck, said the out of breath Glenda.

— It's clear. I was just about to wake you up. It's time for us to have breakfast and go to the department.

— Wonderful. I need half an hour.

Glenda got into the shower. She did not have any bath accessories with her. Fortunately, Larsen used a good shampoo that was also suitable for women’s hair, the same way her parents washed themselves in order to save on various shower cosmetics, and Glenda was pleased, her hair glowed with a healthy shine, unlike her eyes.

A cloudy, barely noticeable veil, after a terrible night, clouded the pupils so that upon expert examination it looked like the consequences of a week-long binge.

She turned on the light above the mirror and tried to get a better look at her eyes. Approaching the mirror almost to the point of eyelashes, Glenda recoiled all the way to the opposite wall. Worms swam chaotically in her left eye.

Small, no larger than a child's nail stub, white, twisted creatures simply swarmed in the vitreous humor.

Overcoming herself, Glenda once again looked into her pupils. There was no one there anymore, as she thought. Quite angry at her helplessness, but no longer feeling any fear, she decided.

"Enough for me. I'll go to the pharmacy before the police. I need sedatives, and the stronger the better. I'm going crazy."

— Everything is fine? — Iver was waiting for her at the table with mozzarella and croutons.

— Not good.

— I heard a crash in the bathroom, as if you had hit yourself. Are you okay?

— Yes, except for the bruises on the elbows.

— So what happened?

— Damn it, I'm just sick! “Glenda didn’t expect such behavior from herself, but she didn’t have the strength anymore.

— Fine. Stay home, get treatment. — Iver said a little alarmed.

— No way. I need to go to the pharmacy, I'm sure it will get easier.

“Fesipam truly relieved nervous tension, as well as the desire for life, interest in the investigation and Mr. Larsen as well. But I don’t agree to this either. Better a sick mind than a helpless one.”

Glenda opened the bottle and poured all the pills into the toilet.

After three hours, the effect of the medicine should decrease, but for now she will remain in a trance for a while.

Once again seeing a bloody stump instead of a thumb, the girl was not afraid. It was more like apathy. Like a soldier lying on the battlefield in the morning with wounds incompatible with life and shock from which no pain is felt, he simply dies quietly, looking at the sky.

Then she heard a familiar voice in the background.

— Bro, take the forensic report. This is not suicide. We are officially starting to find the killer.

Iver casually threw some papers on the table and walked up to the girl in a purple T-shirt.

— The meeting is over, you can go to Mr. Johanson.

— Yes, let's go.

— You're kind of lethargic.

— Yes, I took Fesipam.

— Oh my God. Are you crazy?

— And if so, then what? You are not my husband or father. I do what I want. — Glenda, usually active and lively, now showed her insolence like an amoeba.

— It's clear. You won't go to the hospital with us like that.

— Well, please, Mr. Larsen. Just don’t forget that it was I who helped you yesterday with the Cowboy.

— I didn’t say that you wouldn’t go at all. Let's just bring you to your senses first. — the man in uniform turned towards the next table. — Irene, please help Miss Miller cope with the poisoning.

A woman in high heels and a business suit led Glenda into a small room, like a utility room. She smelled divine, and her hair hung from her shoulders directly onto the girl who sat in the office chair.

— Are you Mr. Larsen's mistress? — Glenda asked just as sleepily.

— No, miss. I'm his colleague. Sit back, now I will install the system for you.

“Political?” she giggled, but as if someone had done it for her.

The employee remained silent. She stuck a thick plastic catheter into the vein, applied a band-aid, and as she removed the needle, a drop of blood fell from her nose and onto Glenda's jeans.

— Sorry.

She took off the tourniquet and raised her head. The beautiful Asian face now looked disfigured by a puncture wound right down the middle.

The first drops of the antidote worked quickly, Glenda perfectly felt the horror, undisguised by the lubricating effect of the muscle relaxant.

— What's wrong with you, miss? — Irene asked in bewilderment, and her face became normal again.

— Nothing. Thank you. — barely pulling herself together, Glenda said.

Thirty minutes later, consciousness cleared up, the vivid colors of the surrounding world returned, but, unfortunately, along with this, the whole range of emotions, especially fear.

"What is wrong with me? Or is there something wrong in Denmark? Or maybe it’s God after all. Well, forgive me! I shouldn't have left London, selling out like Judas. Sorry! Can you hear? Father-in-law at all?

— Are you okay? Can we go? — Iver asked, noticing how Glenda turned pink.

— I think more than yes.

— Great. Then go ahead.

The police station was no longer as empty as the night before. Now it looked like a beehive, everyone was doing something and were busy with some papers, and the boss, like a queen, was collecting everyone’s attention like honey.