Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(15)

The plan is for one of them to take over Amanda’s room when she leaves home. She’ll graduate from high school in the spring, and given how much she and Lena have argued over the past year, it can’t come soon enough.

Lena lingers in the doorway of the twins’ room. They’re so sweet, rosy cheeked and fast asleep. Their beds are arranged in an L-shape, tousled blond hair sticking up on each pillow. Kalle is the calm one; he’s shy and cautious, a little thinker. Mimi is bolder; she speaks first and thinks second. She comes up with mischief; Kalle tags along.

Lena wishes she could keep them at this age. She doesn’t want them to grow up and turn into moaning teenagers. She was only twenty-three when Amanda was born, not an experienced mother, and it hasn’t been easy.

How is she going to cope with two pubescent kids at the same time, hormones exploding in all directions?

She glances toward Amanda’s room. Her eldest daughter always takes forever in the bathroom. Should she wake her first? No, she can’t face that particular battle until she’s had a cup of coffee. It’s going to be a struggle to get her up after Ebba’s party. Lena didn’t hear her come in, but it must have been late. She’s probably had only a few hours’

sleep; it’s doubtful if she’s even managed to sober up.

Lena is under no illusion that the Lucia party was alcohol-free.

In spite of a quick shower, it’s six thirty by the time Lena is ready. She shakes Mimi and Kalle awake. Harald ought to get up too, but he’s still lying in bed like a corpse.

The council meeting must have gone on until late yesterday evening; she didn’t hear him come home either.

She takes a deep breath before opening Amanda’s door.

She pushes down the handle and peeps in, calls out, “Amanda,” in her softest voice. When there is no reaction, she pushes the door wide open.

The room is empty, the bed untouched.

She feels an immediate spurt of anger. For goodness’

sake. If she’s going to sleep over at a friend’s, she has to send a text; that’s the deal. She’s not allowed to spend the night somewhere else—not even at Ebba’s—without letting them know.

Lena goes back to their bedroom to wake Harald.

“Amanda isn’t home,” she says without any attempt to hide the irritation in her voice.

“What?”

Harald stares blankly at her, still half-asleep. He props himself up on one elbow, and the striped duvet slips down, revealing the mat of gray hair on his chest.

“Amanda,” Lena repeats. “She must have stayed over at Ebba’s without telling us. She drives me crazy when she

does this.”

She perches on the edge of the bed and picks up her phone to send an angry message to her daughter.

Harald gently pats her hand. He is the peacemaker in the family, but he’s also the one who lets Lena deal with any issues when the kids step out of line.

Ludde has padded after her and is looking longingly at the bed. He is strictly forbidden from jumping up.

“Calm down,” Harald says. “It’s Lucia, you know what happens. She probably fell asleep at Ebba’s before she had time to text. I’m sure she’ll go straight to school.”

Harald’s words help to ease Lena’s frustration. He’s good at that, calming those around him. That’s why he’s an effective chair of the council, in spite of a fragile political coalition.

He makes people feel safe.

“I expect you’re right,” she says, sending a nicer message than she’d intended:

Did you stay over at Ebba’s? Don’t forget the Lucia procession Harald pulls her close, and she rests her head on his shoulder. His skin is still warm from sleep; his body smells good even though he hasn’t showered yet.

“She’s only eighteen,” he says. “Don’t you remember what we were like at that age?”

Indeed she does. She and Harald were in the same class at high school; they’ve known each other forever; although they didn’t get together until the spring when they graduated.

She gives him a reluctant smile; Harald has that effect on her. He’s almost always in a good mood. She’s overreacted, as usual. That’s why she and Amanda argue so much. Sometimes she doesn’t understand what drives her; she just can’t help it. Things are different with the twins. She has much more patience with them, even though she loves all three of her children equally.

“Up you get,” she says. “There’s coffee and Lucia buns in the kitchen. And gingerbread cookies.”

Harald’s face lights up. He loves cakes and cookies, especially her homemade ones.

Lena puts down her phone. She’ll try and give Amanda a call later in the morning, between patients.

Why does she always have to worry so much?

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16

Lena has just finished treating a person’s bad back in dire need of naprapathic therapy. She has a fifteen-minute window before her next patient, which is enough to freshen up her consulting room, wipe down the bed with disinfectant, and drink a cup of black coffee. At least if she’s quick.

Instead she takes out her phone to see if Amanda’s been in touch.

Nothing. No new messages.

She stares at the blank screen. It’s lunchtime. The Lucia celebration in school should have been over long ago. Even if Amanda has classes, she’s had plenty of opportunity to respond.