Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(8)

It feels both expensive and inaccessible. As if only those with legitimate business there are welcome; anyone else needn’t bother.

She trudges up a steep hill and takes a deep breath when she reaches the top.

It’s impressive and so . . . big.

The houses are spread out over wide slopes, the forest seems to go on forever. In spite of the darkness, Hanna can see the modern vernacular architecture, broad turf roofs, generous balconies, and huge picture windows. The plots and buildings are much larger than in Bj?rnen; there is space here, endless views.

Down below, Lake ?re rests in frozen hibernation.

It feels a bit like a ghost town, although it will soon wake up when the season starts in earnest. The silence is almost tangible, the houses dark and empty, with the curtains drawn. The odd Advent candle bridge and the exterior lighting can’t chase away the desolation of this place, where there isn’t a soul in sight.

Hanna plods on with her backpack and suitcase. Lydia said ten minutes, but she must have been walking for at least fifteen by now. She should have taken a cab, but didn’t want to spend any more money than necessary. Not when the future is so uncertain.

When her boss, Manfred Lidwall, called her into his office yesterday and made a point of closing the door, she knew what was coming.

She’d been angry and disappointed for so long, she’d protested and been as obstructive as possible, because no one was doing anything. However, she still didn’t want to believe that she was the one who was going to be punished.

She’d kept on hoping that someone in the higher echelons would reopen the investigation, make sure their colleague Niklas Konradsson paid for what he’d done. He’d beaten a woman to death. Her name was Josefin, but no one cares about her. They have all closed ranks around Niklas.

And now Hanna was in the firing line, accused of insubordination and a lack of team spirit.

Manfred didn’t even ask her to sit down. He simply stood there with a hostile expression on his face, arms folded. His tone was icy when he told her to seek a post away from the City Police; otherwise he would make sure she was relocated to a place where her career would effectively be over.

He brought up several things. How tired he was of her blatant disrespect, the fact that she was this close to being charged with professional misconduct. None of her colleagues wanted to work with her any longer. Her outburst the previous week, when she’d accused him of being both incompetent and corrupt, had been the final straw.

Hanna didn’t think a superior officer was allowed to express himself as Manfred had done. He probably wouldn’t have dared if they hadn’t been alone in the room, but with just the two of them there, he allowed himself the luxury of a personal attack.

Hanna tried to tell herself that he was a complete shit, but there was no escaping the sense of shame and embarrassment.

They didn’t want her anymore.

She had more or less been kicked out.

She continues along the road, where the snow is hard packed. There are no sidewalks, only piles of snow on either side. She stops to get her bearings, and realizes that Lydia’s house must be the one about a hundred yards up ahead.

Her jaw almost drops.

It’s enormous, a massive, tall wooden building with two wings. It’s at the top of the hill, with no neighbors who can see inside. Colossal, beautifully mullioned windows make the most of the views, while the lighting on the facade itself creates a kind of halo that enhances the impression of exclusivity.

Lydia wasn’t joking when she said they’d spared no expense.

Somehow Hanna had imagined an ordinary cabin, but this combination of glass and dark wood has little in common with the norm in the Swedish mountains. It’s more reminiscent of a mountain lodge in Aspen, Colorado, or a grand chalet in the Swiss Alps.

In Sweden people are expected to keep a low profile rather than show off their money and possessions, but Lydia’s place does exactly the opposite.

The roar of an engine breaks the silence.

Hanna only just spots the beam of the headlights before a dark SUV comes racing around the bend of the narrow road. She vaguely remembers a twenty-miles-per-hour sign back at the entrance, but this vehicle is certainly not sticking to the speed limit.

For a second she stands there, frozen to the spot. The driver is traveling way too fast, the high hood looms up in front of her, ominously close.

It’s going to hit her.

Instinct kicks in and she hurls herself at the nearest pile of snow. Fortunately, it is soft enough to give way, and she tumbles off the road in a cloud of snow.

The car sweeps past, only inches away. It’s sheer luck that she manages to move her feet before the rear wheels thunder past.

Hanna lies there on her back, her heart pounding. She’s afraid to check whether she can move all her limbs; has she escaped uninjured?

Tentatively she sits up. She doesn’t seem to have broken anything, although she banged her hip when she threw herself sideways.

She gazes after the SUV, which has already disappeared. The driver must have seen her, yet he didn’t stop to check if she was okay.

Idiot.

Was it a man behind the wheel? Hard to say, everything happened so fast. She didn’t register either the model or the number plate, just that it was as black as the darkness that now surrounds her once more.

He was definitely crazy; he almost ran her down.

She could have died.