Hidden in snow the are m.., p.5
Hidden in Snow (The Åre Murders), page 5
She goes upstairs to look for Ebba. Loud groans can be heard from the main bedroom—Ebba’s parents’ room.
It sounds like Mackan, the coolest boy in the class. Amanda guesses that Emily is the chosen one this evening. She’s been after him all term, and she was pretty drunk earlier on.
Amanda checks out Ebba’s room. It’s empty, as is her brother’s. She moves on to the bathroom and finds Ebba on the floor with her back to the blue-tiled wall, her head resting on her knees. Her brown hair has fallen forward and is hiding her face.
There is a strong smell of vomit and a nasty reddish-brown mark on the toilet seat.
Poor Ebba.
“Are you okay?” she says, kneeling down beside her friend.
“No,” Ebba whispers. “I’m drunk.” She hurls herself at the toilet again. When she throws up, bits of vomit get stuck in her hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She sinks down onto the floor, whimpering.
“Don’t you think you should go and lie down?” Amanda suggests, stroking Ebba’s back.
“In a minute. I just need to rest for a while.”
The tears begin to flow.
“Mackan’s with Emily,” she mutters. “I hate him.”
Amanda sighs. How can Ebba have fallen for Mackan when he’s such an asshole? He knows he can have anyone he wants, and he makes the most of it. At least half the girls in their class are desperate to be with him.
Right on cue, loud noises emanate from the bedroom.
Suddenly Amanda has had enough.
She ought to stay and console Ebba, help her to bed, and make a start on cleaning up the mess. Instead she gets to her feet. She is tired of drunken classmates and the smell of beer and vomit. She’d so looked forward to this evening, but nothing has turned out the way it was supposed to.
She can’t help brooding, just as she’s done all week since she realized what was going on, how terrible it was. Her drunken classmates suddenly seem childish and naive; they have no idea.
She can’t keep the dark thoughts at bay, and the situation is made worse by the fact that her fear is now mixed with anger at Viktor. Why did he have to be so vile, tonight of all nights?
She wants to go home and sleep in her own bed, try to work out a solution to the whole horrible mess.
She’d really like to tell her mother everything. Get a big hug, hear her mom say that everything will be all right. Then again, she knows exactly what Mom would say if she found out the truth.
Found out what Amanda has been up to with Ebba.
“Listen, I’m going now,” she says. “I’ll help you clean up over the weekend. By the way, I’ve had enough of Viktor. He’s completely wasted tonight.”
Ebba gives a slight nod.
“Mmm,” she mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor.
“See you tomorrow,” Amanda says.
That’s a bit of an exaggeration; it’s almost one o’clock in the morning. In six and a half hours, they have to be in school for the Lucia procession. Both Ebba and Amanda are taking part. She hopes that Ebba will manage to sober up before it starts; otherwise the music teacher will go crazy. They’ve been practicing Christmas songs and carols since October.
Amanda goes down to the hall, rummages for her jacket among the pile of garments on the floor. She pulls on her hat and boots—it’s freezing outside.
She lingers for a moment with her hand resting on the door handle. It’s snowing now, big white flakes whirling in the wind. The buses don’t run at this hour, and it will take her forty minutes to walk home.
The quickest route is via the E14, but it’s not really safe; the cars drive so fast along there.
Should she change her mind and stay over?
She glances toward the kitchen. She can just see Wille through the doorway, but there’s no sign of Viktor. The music is just as loud as before, even though nobody’s dancing anymore. The cigarette smoke mingles with the smell of something else, something sweeter.
Viktor appears, staggering past on his way to the downstairs bathroom. He’s in such a hurry that he doesn’t bother closing the door. Amanda can hear the stream of urine hitting the bowl, no doubt splashing on the floor.
Waste of fucking space.
She makes a face and turns away.
She hears Viktor emerge, but ignores him. She doesn’t even want to look at him.
“Are you leaving?” he shouts.
Amanda doesn’t answer.
Suddenly he’s in front of her, blocking the door.
“Come on, Amanda . . .”
He tries to kiss her, but this time she’s ready for him.
“Don’t touch me!”
He’s had several hours to fix things between them, but instead he chose to hang out with Wille, drinking. Although to be fair he does seem slightly more sober now.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” Viktor looks irritated as she turns away. “Why are you so miserable?”
“Seriously?” Amanda snaps.
He makes another attempt to put his arms around her, and she pushes him away. She doesn’t mean to use so much force, but she’s stronger than he thinks—and Viktor is drunk and unprepared. He loses his balance and crashes into the wall. He lands heavily on the stone floor and swears out loud.
Amanda stares at him. He looks furious; his face is distorted with rage. She doesn’t know whether to say Sorry or You only have yourself to blame.
Her mouth goes dry with stress.
Viktor scrambles to his feet, narrowing his eyes.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Bitch!”
His tone frightens her. Viktor has never spoken to her like that. For the first time she wonders whether what he did to that girl in Umeå really was an accident.
Whether he’s capable of doing it again . . .
When he comes toward her, she doesn’t know if he’s going to hit her or kiss her.
Amanda yanks open the front door and races out into the night. Viktor calls out after her, but she keeps on running.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13
15
The bedroom is in darkness when Lena Halvorssen is woken by her alarm.
She gropes around on the bedside table, switches it off. It’s six o’clock on the morning of Lucia. It’s hard to get her body moving, but the kids have to go to school, and her first patient is due at eight fifteen.
Harald is still asleep. She gives him a little push, but he merely grunts. His stubble is more gray than black these days, and his double chin is clearly visible, resting on the covers.
Lena sighs and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Ludde is there in a second, wagging his tail. She bends down and strokes the black retriever before she pulls on her dressing gown. It’s time to wake the twins. Mimi and Kalle are still sharing a room even though they’re nine years old. The plan is for one of them to take over Amanda’s room when she leaves home. She’ll graduate from high school in the spring, and given how much she and Lena have argued over the past year, it can’t come soon enough.
Lena lingers in the doorway of the twins’ room. They’re so sweet, rosy cheeked and fast asleep. Their beds are arranged in an L-shape, tousled blond hair sticking up on each pillow. Kalle is the calm one; he’s shy and cautious, a little thinker. Mimi is bolder; she speaks first and thinks second. She comes up with mischief; Kalle tags along.
Lena wishes she could keep them at this age. She doesn’t want them to grow up and turn into moaning teenagers. She was only twenty-three when Amanda was born, not an experienced mother, and it hasn’t been easy. How is she going to cope with two pubescent kids at the same time, hormones exploding in all directions?
She glances toward Amanda’s room. Her eldest daughter always takes forever in the bathroom. Should she wake her first? No, she can’t face that particular battle until she’s had a cup of coffee. It’s going to be a struggle to get her up after Ebba’s party. Lena didn’t hear her come in, but it must have been late. She’s probably had only a few hours’ sleep; it’s doubtful if she’s even managed to sober up.
Lena is under no illusion that the Lucia party was alcohol-free.
In spite of a quick shower, it’s six thirty by the time Lena is ready. She shakes Mimi and Kalle awake. Harald ought to get up too, but he’s still lying in bed like a corpse. The council meeting must have gone on until late yesterday evening; she didn’t hear him come home either.
She takes a deep breath before opening Amanda’s door. She pushes down the handle and peeps in, calls out, “Amanda,” in her softest voice. When there is no reaction, she pushes the door wide open.
The room is empty, the bed untouched.
She feels an immediate spurt of anger. For goodness’ sake. If she’s going to sleep over at a friend’s, she has to send a text; that’s the deal. She’s not allowed to spend the night somewhere else—not even at Ebba’s—without letting them know.
Lena goes back to their bedroom to wake Harald.
“Amanda isn’t home,” she says without any attempt to hide the irritation in her voice.
“What?”
Harald stares blankly at her, still half-asleep. He props himself up on one elbow, and the striped duvet slips down, revealing the mat of gray hair on his chest.
“Amanda,” Lena repeats. “She must have stayed over at Ebba’s without telling us. She drives me crazy when she does this.”
She perches on the edge of the bed and picks up her phone to send an angry message to her daughter.
Harald gently pats her hand. He is the peacemaker in the family, but he’s also the one who lets Lena deal with any issues when the kids step out of line.
Ludde has padded after her and is looking longingly at the bed. He is strictly forbidden from jumping up.
“Calm down,” Harald says. “It’s Lucia, you know what happens. She probably fell asleep at Ebba’s before she had time to text. I’m sure she’ll go straight to school.”
Harald’s words help to ease Lena’s frustration. He’s good at that, calming those around him. That’s why he’s an effective chair of the council, in spite of a fragile political coalition.
He makes people feel safe.
“I expect you’re right,” she says, sending a nicer message than she’d intended:
Did you stay over at Ebba’s? Don’t forget the Lucia procession
Harald pulls her close, and she rests her head on his shoulder. His skin is still warm from sleep; his body smells good even though he hasn’t showered yet.
“She’s only eighteen,” he says. “Don’t you remember what we were like at that age?”
Indeed she does. She and Harald were in the same class at high school; they’ve known each other forever; although they didn’t get together until the spring when they graduated.
She gives him a reluctant smile; Harald has that effect on her. He’s almost always in a good mood. She’s overreacted, as usual. That’s why she and Amanda argue so much. Sometimes she doesn’t understand what drives her; she just can’t help it. Things are different with the twins. She has much more patience with them, even though she loves all three of her children equally.
“Up you get,” she says. “There’s coffee and Lucia buns in the kitchen. And gingerbread cookies.”
Harald’s face lights up. He loves cakes and cookies, especially her homemade ones.
Lena puts down her phone. She’ll try and give Amanda a call later in the morning, between patients.
Why does she always have to worry so much?
16
Lena has just finished treating a person’s bad back in dire need of naprapathic therapy. She has a fifteen-minute window before her next patient, which is enough to freshen up her consulting room, wipe down the bed with disinfectant, and drink a cup of black coffee. At least if she’s quick.
Instead she takes out her phone to see if Amanda’s been in touch.
Nothing. No new messages.
She stares at the blank screen. It’s lunchtime. The Lucia celebration in school should have been over long ago. Even if Amanda has classes, she’s had plenty of opportunity to respond.
Lena keys in another message:
Just wanted to check that everything’s okay? Love Mom
She presses send.
The constant mom anxiety that never really goes away is gnawing at her. It makes Harald smile. Amanda’s eighteen—she’s officially an adult. She can do what she likes, he says.
It’s time for Lena to let go.
Not while she’s living at home, she always replies.
As long as Amanda is living under her roof, Lena wants to know where her daughter is.
She stands there with her phone in her hand, unable to explain why she’s so uneasy. Åre is a safe place, a good place to grow up in. The most common crimes are driving offenses and drunken tourists getting into a fight when they’ve partied too hard.
But things can go wrong. Car accidents happen everywhere, even in quiet places. With all the snow that fell last night, visibility would have been poor. If Amanda was walking home late, she could have been hit by a vehicle.
The image of an unconscious body in a ditch flickers through Lena’s mind.
“Stop it,” she murmurs to herself.
Should she call Harald, see if Amanda’s contacted him instead? She does that sometimes when she knows Lena will be on the warpath. She selects his number, but it goes straight to voicemail. No doubt he’s in a meeting as usual.
She hadn’t intended to call Amanda but does it anyway, although her daughter hates Lena trying to reach her during the school day. The phone rings and rings, but there is no answer.
She must be in class. Or maybe she didn’t bother going in at all; she might still be fast asleep at Ebba’s. There’s a simple explanation.
Lena hears a knock, and a woman pokes her head around the door. It is Cia, one of her regular patients, who has a bad shoulder, which benefits from ultrasound treatment.
“Is it okay to come in?” Cia asks.
“Of course.” Lena puts down her phone. “Good to see you.”
Her body is crawling with anxiety, but she forces herself to smile.
Everything is fine. It has to be.
17
Harald Halvorssen closes his notebook with a little bang. He is sitting behind his desk; the head of finance has just left the room after a budget review.
It wasn’t good news. There are far too many gaps and not enough money to go round. The political coalition of four parties comprises strong-willed individuals all pulling in their own direction.
The situation isn’t new in Åre. The last few terms of office have seen various forms of political upheaval. Traditionally his own Center Party has dominated, with occasional interruptions by a red-green majority. Now he’s dependent on the latest upstart party, For the Good of Western Jämtland, which promotes local issues and holds the balance of power.
Somehow he’s going to have to make everyone understand that further cuts will need to be made. Åre is growing like few other rural communities, but the tax rate is already high.
He leans back on his chair and links his hands behind his neck. His belly sticks out. Work takes up so much of his time that he doesn’t get around to exercising as much as he used to. These days he would never complete the Vasaloppet cross-country ski race in six hours as he used to.
His gaze falls on the framed photograph on his desk: the whole family up on Åreskutan. It was taken last Easter, with the sun shining brightly as it often does in April. They’d taken a packed lunch. The twins were excited and could hardly stand still; even Amanda was smiling at the camera.
Harald sighs. He doesn’t understand why she and Lena fight so much. Lena typically speaks her mind when she gets annoyed, and Amanda reacts by slamming doors and yelling. He tries to mediate as best he can, but sometimes it’s like a minefield; whatever he does, he upsets somebody. It’s easier to handle the opposition in the council chamber than to get his wife and daughter to agree.
His phone buzzes; a message from Lena.
Can’t get hold of Amanda, has she contacted you?
Harald glances at his watch. Quarter to five. Where has the day gone?
He quickly replies:
No.
Another message arrives in seconds.
She hasn’t been in touch! Do you think something could have happened?
Harald sighs again. Lena gets worked up too easily. This isn’t the first time Amanda has ignored her mother’s texts. Secretly he sympathizes to a certain extent; Lena can be too controlling. She always wants to know exactly where he and the kids are; otherwise she becomes stressed and starts catastrophizing.
He’s about to respond with some reassuring words when there’s a knock on the door.
Mira Bergfors is his right-hand woman. Her long black hair shines in the glow of the overhead light, framing her finely chiseled features.
Harald feels fortunate to have such a beautiful PA. She’s thirty-one, married with a three-year-old daughter named Leah.
“You’re a free man,” she informs him with a smile. “Your next meeting has been postponed, so you can go home.”
Harald rarely gets away from the office before six thirty or seven; this is a rare luxury. It’s Friday and Lucia, but he had a meeting booked at five.
“Excellent,” he says, returning Mira’s smile.
“I was thinking of leaving too.” She turns away, and Harald can’t resist admiring her well-shaped backside in the black jeans that fit like a second skin.
He knows what it’s like to caress that soft body.
He suddenly realizes they’re at work. He quickly adopts a neutral expression and raises a hand in farewell. “Have a nice weekend,” he says.
He starts a message to Lena, then changes his mind and calls her instead. She answers right away, sounding agitated.
“I still haven’t heard from Amanda! I’ve texted her and called her several times!”
“Have you spoken to Ebba? Maybe she went back there after school,” Harald ventures, trying to calm her down.
