Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(57)
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58
The lactic acid is burning in her thighs. Hanna is nearing the end of the well-lit cross-country ski track in Bj?rnen, not far from Lydia’s house.
She is enjoying the peace and quiet, the sense of being in sole charge of the snow-covered landscape. The track follows an elegant course through the forest in a wide circle, with a frozen marsh at its center. She glides silently through a cathedral of tall firs. The snow has stopped falling, and the area is sheltered from the mountain winds.
She isn’t unfit, but over the last few years, she has mostly concentrated on downhill skiing. However, her muscle memory has kicked in, even if her thighs are protesting after almost ten miles. The rhythm is dictated by her regular breathing and the steady beating of her heart.
Her brain can rest while her body works.
The last stretch is downhill. She normally loves the speed, but tonight she holds back. This is where people often injure themselves. Cross-country skis are thin and unstable and can be difficult to control.
She snowplows down to make sure she doesn’t fall.
When she reaches the end of the track, she is completely exhausted.
Far away a dog barks briefly.
Something within her has eased. The visit to the police station gave her fresh energy. For the first time since she arrived here, she wanted to get out and exercise.
Sweat is pouring down her back as she plods home with the skis over her shoulder. It’s a fifteen-minute walk, and for once the cold is welcome. Her breath emerges from her mouth like dense smoke.
Back at the house she takes a long, hot shower, letting the water run, making the most of Lydia’s expensive shower gel, then generously applying Lydia’s even more expensive body lotion, which she herself could never afford. Then she pulls on her velour sweatpants and top, goes into the kitchen, and opens her computer.
Lydia has sent the name and address of the cleaning company. Hanna had almost forgotten her concerns about the incident with Zuhra yesterday, but now it all comes back to her.
She has seen frightened eyes like that before; she recognizes the cowed posture.
She googles the name, “Fj?ll-st?d AB,” to find out more about Zuhra’s employer. The firm seems to be one of the largest in ?re. She checks out a website that gives details of companies’ financial positions and annual accounts, including profits, turnover, and taxes paid, for the last five years.
Fj?ll-st?d AB has twenty employees and an overall turnover of twenty-two million. The previous year they made a profit of almost three million kronor. Hanna does a quick calculation. That’s a profit margin of just over thirteen percent. Not bad.
She moves on to information about the chair and board.
The names mean nothing to her. All five members are white men, as is the chair. They are all between forty and sixty, except for the chair, who is almost seventy. The fact that the cleaning seems to be mainly carried out by women, as are the administrative roles, doesn’t appear to have impacted the composition of the board.
Hanna finds the age and gender profile annoying, but it’s no different from many Swedish businesses. The women do the work and the men sit in positions of power and make the decisions.
Hanna is familiar with the pattern.
She sees Zuhra’s anxious face in her mind’s eye. Hanna has found nothing to suggest that the fault lies with her employer. Could she be afraid of a violent boyfriend or a married man? She would like to meet Zuhra again, ask her straight out. There is help available for vulnerable women.
She sits back, clasps her hands behind her neck.
This morning’s meeting at the police station is the first glimmer of light in a long time. Anton’s question about whether she might consider working in ?re came like a bolt from the blue.
The more she thinks about it, the more interested she is.
Anton made it clear that Daniel is the one who will decide. He is leading the investigation, which falls under the authority of the Serious Crimes Unit in ?stersund. If there’s anyone who can pull the right strings, it’s him. Anton is stationed in ?re and usually works on other types of crime.
He has no influence over employment matters.
On an impulse she googles “Daniel Lindskog,” suddenly curious about the man who might, just might, be able to set her life on the right course once more.
She can’t find anyone who resembles the man she met earlier today. He doesn’t even seem to be on Facebook.
She tries again, types in “Daniel Lindskog + police officer,” and this time there are several hits, mainly newspaper articles from G?teborgs-Posten, where he is mentioned by name in connection with various investigations.
In one of them he talks about a serious homicide case with links to a biker gang in one of Gothenburg’s socially deprived suburbs. A man was found brutally beaten to death in the forest. Hanna remembers the case; it attracted a significant amount of attention three or four years ago.
Judging by the articles, Daniel spent quite some time in Gothenburg; he is clearly an experienced detective.
Hanna can’t help wondering what an officer with his background is doing in ?re. Drunk driving or drunk Norwegians getting into a fight are a lot more common in the mountains—crimes that don’t exactly match Daniel’s level of competence. But maybe he wanted a different kind of life? Lots of people move up here because they’ve grown tired of the city.
She reads a little while longer, then exits the page and stretches.