Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(28)

She takes care of her little brother and sister.”

“Do you think she would have gotten into a stranger’s car if he offered her a ride?” Anton is constantly taking notes, as if every word is significant.

Lena isn’t sure. There are buses, but they stop running pretty early on the weekends. Teenagers usually walk or cycle, but of course they sometimes hitch a ride. She has often picked up kids wandering along the road with their thumb in the air. They live in a safe place; she has never been afraid of giving a hitchhiker a ride.

“It’s possible,” she says.

Daniel signals to Anton and stands up.

“We’d like to see Amanda’s room,” he says. “We also need to take her computer, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Lena gets to her feet, feeling as if she doesn’t belong in her own body. Standing outside Amanda’s door, she experiences the weirdest sensation; for a millisecond she is convinced that her daughter is in there, lying in bed.

That this is all just a huge misunderstanding.

Then she opens the door of the empty room and remembers that the nightmare is real.

Both police officers follow her in. Lena sees what they see: an untidy room with a bed, a desk from IKEA, and an old blue wing-back armchair by the window. There is a pile of clothes at the foot of the unmade bed.

Lena wants to go over and touch the clothes, bury her nose in them to reassure herself that she hasn’t forgotten her daughter’s smell.

The bulletin board above the desk is adorned with photographs of Amanda and her friends. One is of Amanda in a yellow bikini on the shore of Lake ?re, with an almost identical picture of Ebba next to it. In a photo-booth strip, Amanda is making silly faces. It is hanging a little askew.

Anton has found Amanda’s laptop on the armchair under a gray woolen sweater. He opens it up, and Amanda’s suntanned face beams out at them. Her screensaver is a photo of herself and the twins.

“Do you know the password?”

Lena shakes her head. Amanda would never share that information.

“Does she have an iPad too?”

“No, just the laptop and her phone.”

As they leave the room, Daniel pauses in the doorway.

“If you think of anyone Amanda might have been in touch with, maybe someone outside her usual circle, you need to contact us right away.”

Lena nods. She really does want to help, but all she can hear is the same question, repeated over and over again inside her head:

Why can’t you find her?

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28

The Landahl family lives on J?mtg?rdsv?gen in an old wooden house that is slightly isolated, with no neighbors in sight. Festive torches are burning by the entrance when Daniel parks on the drive. He and Anton have come to see Viktor, Amanda’s secret boyfriend.

He might well have been one of the last people to see her.

When the front door opens, they are met with the sound of Christmas music and the aroma of mulled wine and gingerbread cookies. A woman in her fifties wearing an apron over a sparkly top is standing there with a big smile on her face.

The smile disappears when she sees Daniel holding up his police ID.

“Oh—I was expecting someone else. We’re having a party shortly.”

“This won’t take long. We need to speak to Viktor Landahl—I’m assuming you’re his mother?”

The woman nods. “Maria Landahl.” She looks worried.

“Why are you looking for Viktor? What’s happened?” Her hands flutter nervously over her apron.

“We just need a word with him,” Anton says. “It’s about his schoolmate Amanda Halvorssen—as I’m sure you’re aware, she went missing in the early hours of Friday morning.”

Maria Landahl inhales sharply. “Such a terrible thing! I feel so sorry for her parents.”

She goes to the foot of the stairs and shouts, “Viktor, could you come down please?”

After a minute or so, a boy in a black hoodie comes shambling down the stairs. He is barefoot and makes no attempt to hurry. There is a ragged hole in one knee of his jeans.

Daniel requested a background check on him, but nothing interesting came up.

“These two police officers want to talk to you,” his mother explains. She smooths down her hair and glances anxiously out of the window. If she’s worried about a police car on the drive, she can rest easy; they came in an unmarked vehicle.

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” Daniel wonders.

Maria looks over at the front door.

“Our guests will be arriving at any minute, and I presume you don’t want to be disturbed. Could you go upstairs?” She licks her lips, checks her watch. “Can I be there?”

Daniel shakes his head. “I’m afraid not—it’s best if we see Viktor on his own. He is eighteen, after all.”

Maria doesn’t insist; she just gives them one last worried look before disappearing into the kitchen.

Daniel and Anton follow Viktor up the stairs to a spacious room with a gray corner sofa. There is a large flatscreen TV on the wall, with a movie paused in the middle of a scene where two small people are climbing a mountain.

It’s The Lord of the Rings—Daniel has seen the trilogy several times.

There is a half-empty bag of chips and a can of Fanta on the coffee table, and crumbs litter the floor and cushions.