Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(22)
Ebba is standing in the hallway, chewing on a strand of hair. Her mascara is smudged, and she looks tired and hungover.
When Daniel looks beyond her to the kitchen, he understands why. There are beer cans and empty bottles everywhere. He recognizes a Russian brand of vodka. Back in the day everyone bought moonshine, but that’s no longer necessary now that there’s cheap smuggled booze or older siblings who are prepared to make a purchase on behalf of younger teens. Kids today have a lot more money than his generation did.
“Can we have a chat?” he says, as Anton steps aside to take a call.
Ebba leads the way into the kitchen, clearing one end of the table so they can sit down. She perches on the edge of the chair, arms tightly wrapped around her upper body.
Daniel feels sorry for her. Sharp words about alcohol and drug abuse can wait. Right now he needs to find out as much as possible about Amanda, what happened at the party before she disappeared.
“Are your parents home?” he begins.
“They’re in Stockholm.” Ebba looks guilty. “Will they have to know about the party?” she asks quietly.
“We’ll see. The most important thing right now is to track down your friend.”
“She just took off,” Ebba mumbles.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could something have happened to make her leave?”
Ebba shrugs. “I don’t remember. Ask Viktor, he might know.”
Anton joins them, his phone still pressed to his ear.
“One of our patrols has found a scarf by the side of the E14, just next to the rest stop before the VM8 chairlift.”
He holds out his phone to Ebba, shows her a picture of a red knitted scarf lying on the snowy ground. “Do you recognize this?”
Ebba nods. “It’s Amanda’s. I’ve got one almost exactly the same.” She disappears into the hallway and comes back with a bright-pink scarf with an identical pattern. “We bought them together, in a sale at H&M.” Her voice is unsteady as she goes on: “What’s it doing there?”
There could be countless explanations, but Daniel doesn’t want to go into them now. However, the discovery is clearly a step forward. It indicates that Amanda was heading toward her home. The distance between Trollv?gen and Pilgrimsv?gen, where the Halvorssens live, is just over three miles—a walk that should take around forty minutes in the middle of the night. The rest stop is roughly halfway.
“Which side of the road was it on?” Daniel asks.
“They found it on the southern side.”
This suggests that Amanda was walking in the same direction as the traffic—maybe she was hoping for a lift? It was a foolish decision; the main road has no sidewalks.
There is no space for pedestrians, and on a dark, snowy night, it could be lethal. However, Amanda seems to have set off along the E14 and lost her scarf. Then she went up in smoke.
“Ask Jarmo to go there instead of coming here,” Daniel says.
“He’s already on his way.”
Anton glances around the kitchen, and Daniel can see that he is drawing the same conclusions about the party.
Anton is five years younger than Daniel, but pretty experienced.
He turns to Ebba. “You mentioned a guy called Viktor— why?”
Ebba looks as if she regrets giving Viktor’s name.
“They are together,” she mumbles reluctantly. “Well . . .
nearly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They hang out, but it isn’t exactly . . . official.”
“Why not?”
Ebba’s lips tremble. “Amanda doesn’t want that.”
Daniel studies her closely. He has learned that it’s sometimes better to keep quiet until the other person speaks, but Ebba won’t meet his gaze and is clearly unwilling to elaborate.
“Was everything okay between them?” Daniel asks.
“I think they had a fight,” Ebba replies, her voice fading.
“What kind of fight?”
“I think she was mad at him when she left, but I don’t really remember. I was too drunk.” She hides her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and begins to cry.
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SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14
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24
It is only five past six when Hanna opens her eyes. It is the first time since she arrived in ?re that she has woken early by herself.
It is pitch black outside, and for a few seconds she can’t work out where she is. Then it all comes flooding back. She is lying in the huge double bed in one of Lydia’s guest rooms. She refrained from drinking wine last night, so she is neither hungover nor sleepy.
She switches on the bedside lamp, opens up her laptop, and surfs the net for a while. She tries to stay away from Christian’s Facebook page, but without success. He’s into regular updates and likes to post photos showing the good life—a glass of wine at sunset, a beer on the ski slope. Or cool pictures of all the attractive apartments he sells.
This morning Hanna can’t see anything new. He hasn’t posted for several days. Oh . . . yes, he has. He’s changed his status. It used to say, “In a relationship with Hanna Ahlander.”