Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(108)
Daniel closes his eyes, tries to find fresh energy. He wants to call Ida, but that will have to wait. It’s going to be yet another text message, because it’s time for the video conference with Birgitta Grip and Tobias Ahlqvist. They are going to work out a plan for the rest of the day, and moving forward.
His gaze falls on Amanda’s photograph on the wall. It is the first time since she was found that he can look at her without feeling as if he let her down.
He presses the button to open the meeting.
Time to get the ball rolling.
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122
Daniel can see two figures in the kitchen when he arrives at Bosse Lundh and Annika Risberg’s house, accompanied by Anton and a team of officers.
The couple is peacefully eating dinner. There is a bottle of wine on the table, and they each have a full glass in front of them. Three candles flicker in the Advent wreath, and the scene is framed by red Christmas curtains at the window.
They look like any other Swedish family on a Saturday evening in December.
Daniel wishes he were at home, sitting at the kitchen table with Ida and Alice.
He adjusts his bulletproof vest, which is chafing one armpit. The regulations dictate that everyone present is similarly equipped. He automatically checks that his service weapon is exactly where it should be.
It is almost six thirty.
Right now other colleagues are about to carry out the same action against Kristina Risberg and Linda Edén—the woman in the cleaning-company office.
The powdery snow gives way beneath their feet as they creep toward the house.
Daniel gives Anton a signal, then nods to the others. It is time.
While he and Anton wait outside, the door is flung open and two officers enter, guns raised.
He hears a woman scream, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Then silence.
When Daniel walks in, Bosse Lundh is on his feet staring at the men as they handcuff him. Annika Risberg is still seated, her face chalk white.
Daniel goes over to Lundh. “You are under arrest for the murder of Amanda Halvorssen, the attempted murder of Hanna Ahlander, and human exploitation,” he says.
Anton deals with Annika Risberg.
Lundh blinks in confusion, as if he can’t understand what is going on. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out.
Daniel can’t help himself. He grabs Lundh by the arm, almost spits out the words. “How the fuck could you pretend to search for Amanda when it was you all along? You let her freeze to death all alone in the cabin—she was just eighteen years old!”
Risberg inhales sharply. “What have you done?” she shouts.
“It was an accident,” Lundh replies hoarsely. “I needed time to think, and when I got back it was too late to save her. I didn’t think she’d use up all the logs for the stove so quickly.”
Daniel looks at him with contempt as two CSIs enter the house. He steps aside and allows his uniformed colleagues to lead Lundh and Risberg out to the waiting police cars.
The flashing blue lights have already attracted the attention of the neighbors.
There is no sense of triumph. Amanda’s death is a tragedy, and the consequences for all concerned are horrific. He ought to be delighted with Lundh’s confession, but he is too tired. The tension of the past few days has taken its toll, the exhaustion from lack of sleep is throbbing through his body, and he has no idea what state his own relationship is in.
At the end of the day, he failed.
Amanda lost her life.
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123
Daniel is standing outside his apartment, keys in hand. His brain is woolly with tiredness.
Following the arrest of Bosse Lundh and Annika Risberg, the team has started a search of their home and the cabin in Ull?dalen. Social services are looking after the three girls from Uzbekistan. Kristina Risberg has already admitted that it was Lundh who drove into Hanna’s vehicle. They had seen her car and suspected that someone was watching them.
They managed to lead Hanna astray so that Lundh could get behind her and force her off the road.
Kristina insists that they simply wanted to frighten her.
Whether they intended to kill her is a matter for further investigation.
Daniel stares at the bunch of flowers in his hand. He stopped at a gas station and bought red roses wrapped in plastic. There is something pathetic about a guy who comes home with less-than-fresh flowers from the gas station, but he couldn’t think of anything better.
He is desperate to see his girls.
He unlocks the door, steps inside. The apartment is silent—the television isn’t on, and no music is playing. The kitchen is in darkness, but he can see a faint glow from the living room.
“Hello?”
He takes off his jacket and shoes and creeps into the room. Ida is sitting on the sofa, feeding Alice. Her tiny body rests against her mother, who is supporting the baby with her right arm. All Daniel can see is a downy head.
He is a total shit.
What kind of person rushes off and abandons his partner—a new mom—and their infant child for days on end?
A wave of shame floods his body.
This is his family. It’s his job to take care of them.
He goes over to the sofa, drops to his knees in front of his girlfriend and daughter, and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
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