Hidden in Snow (The ?re Murders, #1)(82)
The same questions, the same nondescript answers are repeated over and over again. Few were out on their snowmobiles over the weekend because the weather was so bad. Even fewer have noticed anything unusual in the area over the past few days. No one saw a dark-colored snowmobile driving around in the middle of the night.
Daniel turns his head side to side several times. It’s late and his neck is stiff. He ought to go home, but he hasn’t finished yet. What if he’s missed a key detail?
A little while ago he spoke to the prosecutor about Fredrik Bergfors. He wants a search warrant, but Ahlqvist is insisting on more evidence.
This isn’t the first time Daniel has argued with a prosecutor, but this evening his patience was at the breaking point. He’d almost hurled his phone at the wall when the call ended.
His phone rings—Ida, no doubt wondering if he’s on his way home.
“Hi, darling,” he says, injecting a cheerful note into his voice.
“Where are you?” She sounds stressed. Alice is crying in the background.
“At work, of course.”
“Do you know what time it is? Almost eight thirty!”
Is it that late?
“Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Couldn’t you have texted to tell me you were going to be late? I’ve made dinner for us.”
He should have let her know. He doesn’t mean to disappear into his work like this.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I really don’t know where the time went.”
“Seriously, Daniel.”
There is no mistaking the displeasure in Ida’s voice.
“You’ve missed Alice’s bath time again. And she won’t go to sleep; she just keeps on screaming.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” Daniel assures her. “I just need to finish reading these reports.”
OceanofPDF.com
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19
OceanofPDF.com
87
They say the hour of the wolf falls precisely between night and dawn. When Hanna opens her eyes, night is just coming to an end.
She has slept badly, slipping in and out of superficial slumber. Her body is still clammy with sweat from the latest nightmare.
She is relieved to be awake, but the sense of disaster still lingers.
In her dream she went to see Christian and was met with scorn when she tried to apologize. Then Daniel appeared with disappointment on his face, asking why she hadn’t said anything about being fired from the City Police.
She hadn’t been able to face calling Christian last night.
She can’t shake off her anxiety over the situation. How could she have imagined that it was possible to be given a fresh opportunity?
He’s going to go to the police; then everything will be ruined. She won’t be allowed to stay in her new job—no one wants a colleague who’s been reported for criminal damage.
She draws up the covers and closes her eyes. Just then the wind howls around the corners of the house, as if nature concurs with how dire her situation is. She looks over at the window—the roller blinds are pulled only halfway down—and realizes that a storm is in full swing out there. Gusts of wind are hurling snow at the glass, leaving icy trails across the pane.
What is she going to do?
She sinks back onto the pillow, pictures Daniel, knows that she would love to work with him long term, if she got the chance. He takes her seriously. He listens to her. He makes her feel like a real police officer again.
And there is something about him that enables her to relax. Sitting quietly in his presence doesn’t stress her out.
Hanna dare not risk losing this job because she can’t face contacting Christian. She must do it today.
The house creaks ominously in the storm.
In spite of all the stress, she must have fallen asleep again, because the next time Hanna looks at the clock, it is almost seven. The storm has abated slightly. Although it is still windy, the tall fir trees outside the bedroom are no longer swaying like tortured souls.
The sound of an approaching car makes her peer out at the road. A dark-gray Golf has stopped outside one of the houses with an old-fashioned turf roof. A figure in a bulky padded jacket gets out of the passenger seat and opens the trunk. It’s hard to see clearly through the darkness and the whirling snow, but it looks as if they are gathering up cleaning equipment. The driver also gets out, walks toward the house, and unlocks the door.
Hanna presses her face to the glass. Isn’t that Zuhra carrying everything up the path?
She disappears indoors, and the Golf drives away.
Hanna reacts instinctively. She pulls on jeans and a sweater, hurries into the hallway and grabs her boots and jacket.
Then she opens the door and steps out into the storm.
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88
The cold is like an icy wall as Hanna crosses the street. The snowplow hasn’t been up here yet, so she has to plod through thick snow. The other house is a short distance below Lydia’s, with the ground floor built into the hillside.
Hanna slithers down the slippery slope leading to the front door.
She knocks, but no one answers. She tries again, but there is only silence.
Strange—she saw Zuhra go in a couple of minutes ago, plus there are lights on. After a moment she tries pushing down the handle and discovers that the door is unlocked.