Hidden in snow the are m.., p.7
Hidden in Snow (The Åre Murders), page 7
“Okay.” Daniel makes a note. “What’s the name of her adviser?”
“Lasse Sandahl. He’s looked after Amanda’s class all the way through high school.”
“I’ve just been to see her best friend, Ebba,” Harald says, and tells them about his visit to Trollvägen.
Lena’s eyes are wide with fear by the time he’s finished. “You have to do something! What if she was hit by a car when she was on her way home last night? She could be lying in a snowdrift along the road!”
It is even colder than yesterday. Harald can’t help glancing at the window that overlooks the garden. The blackness is impenetrable. It is impossible to see the snow-covered fir trees behind the house.
“Oh God,” Lena murmurs, “why didn’t she phone and ask us to pick her up? If only she’d called . . .”
Anton’s expression is full of sympathy. “Does your daughter use any kind of tracking function, for example, Find My iPhone?”
Lena shakes her head. “Not that we have access to. She refused to give us the code.”
Harald turns to Daniel. “Shouldn’t you contact Missing People? Isn’t it standard practice to involve them in situations like this? I know Bosse Lundh, who runs the local branch.”
The two officers exchange a glance.
“We’ll do everything we can to find Amanda,” Daniel says, getting to his feet. Anton closes his notebook and follows suit.
Harald sees that Daniel is holding a pink top. Is it Amanda’s? Does that mean they’re going to bring in dogs to search for her?
“We’ll be in touch as soon as we have any information,” Daniel continues.
“You’re leaving already?” Lena stares at the two men in confusion. Ludde moves forward and places his nose in her lap, as if he can tell that she’s upset.
“We’ll be organizing things from the station,” Daniel explains. “But as I said, we’ll be in touch.”
He hands Lena a card bearing the police logo. “This is my number—you can call me any time.” He places a consoling hand on her arm. “Most people who disappear come back within one to three days.”
Harald wants to say something, but Lena gets there first.
“And what about those who don’t?” she whispers.
When Amanda opens her eyes, she is lying under a thin blanket on a mattress. She looks around the room and sees untreated wooden walls and a door. There is a soapstone stove in one corner. This must be a mountain cabin.
She is on the verge of panic. She is all alone and has no idea where she is.
How did she end up here?
Vague memories of swaying, of twists and turns, come into her mind. She was tied up, lying on her back, unable to move her arms or legs.
She remembers the wind in her face, as if she were on a sled being pulled by a snowmobile, traveling at high speed.
She staggers to her feet and tries to orient herself. The cabin consists of just one room. Apart from the bunk beds attached to the wall, there is only a shabby plastic table and two plastic chairs. A few comic books are strewn across a window seat.
She shivers and realizes that her clothes are gone. She is wearing nothing but her bra and panties.
He’s taken everything else, including her boots.
Amanda searches for something she can put on, but the only fabric in the room is the blanket and the stained mattresses on the beds.
She tries the door—locked. Outside the window, which is partly covered by a crossbar, it is pitch dark. She screws up her eyes and thinks she can make out huge piles of snow.
Is she up in the mountains? Where the hell is she?
There is a fire burning in the stove. She crouches down and holds out her hands to the warmth.
She has no idea where she is, or how she is going to get away. The door is locked, and even if she managed to get it or the window open, she dare not go out into the bitter cold without her clothes.
Her phone is gone too.
She can’t hold back the tears. No one can hear her crying.
“Mommy,” she whispers. “Help me.”
22
Daniel gets into the passenger seat and lets Anton drive. He gazes out of the side window as they swing around to head back to the station.
Once again he thinks that most missing teenagers turn up within a few days. However, Amanda’s mother was adamant that she would never disappear of her own accord.
Daniel’s main concern is that the girl might have met with an accident. At the moment there is no evidence of a crime. However, he is well aware that Amanda could have frozen to death if she was very drunk and lay down to rest in a snowdrift.
Most people don’t understand how close to death they can be, wearing unsuitable clothing in extreme cold. He has seen girls tottering home in high heels in the middle of the night, sometimes setting off in completely the wrong direction on a trek of more than six miles. Far too many travel up to Åre by train, check in to their accommodation, then take a cab straight to the bar. At the end of the night, they have no idea where they’re going or how far it is.
If Amanda tried to walk home in the dark, and was drunk enough to fall asleep outdoors, things could have gone very badly.
He briefly considers the possibility that she might have taken her own life, but pushes the thought aside. Nothing the parents had said pointed in that direction.
Anton signals a right turn for Kurortsvägen, where the relatively new police station is situated. It is housed in the same building as the health center, fresh and modern, but the design hasn’t really been thought through. It would be a simple matter to block every entrance and exit to sabotage an emergency police dispatch.
They tend not to mention this.
Daniel’s phone beeps. It’s the telecoms operator he contacted on his way to the Halvorssens’. Amanda’s phone hasn’t been used since one o’clock this morning.
Not a good sign.
“We need a search dog,” Anton says as he parks the car. “Shall we bring in Jarmo?”
Jarmo Mäkinen, who lives in Järpen, is the only dog handler in the area. All the rest are based in Östersund, which is an hour and a quarter’s drive away, and Daniel is far from sure that they can afford to wait that long.
“Good idea,” he says. “Ask him to meet us on Trollvägen as soon as possible. And call the cab companies, find out if anyone’s seen anything.”
Åre’s cab firms often help. Every year they make a huge contribution to public safety, picking up drunken skiers staggering home in the middle of the night.
Anton nods and undoes his seatbelt. They are stopping off briefly at the station in order to plan their next moves. Daniel wants to apprise his superiors in Östersund of the situation. Helicopters are sometimes required in a major search, and the Mountain Rescue teams might also be needed.
For the moment the plan is to have a patrol car check out the local area and the route between Amanda’s home and Trollvägen, where the party took place. There aren’t many options, and if the girl has fallen asleep in a snowdrift, they should be able to spot her.
He doesn’t want to think about what state she’ll be in.
He also wants to speak to Ebba, Amanda’s best friend, see what she has to say.
It is almost six thirty. It’s going to be a while before he can get back to Ida and Alice. He won’t be able to bathe his daughter tonight—for the first time since she was born.
He takes out his phone and sends a quick message to Ida.
Have to work late, it can’t be helped. Sorry.
23
The aftermath of the party is all too evident when Daniel and Anton enter Ebba’s house. Cigarettes and booze weren’t the only substances on offer; the smell of cannabis lingers in the stuffy air.
Daniel isn’t surprised. Drug dealing is the latest major criminal activity in the area, and problems with drugs have increased significantly during the past few years. Not long ago alcohol was the biggest concern, but nowadays fifteen-year-olds are smoking weed while gaming.
Ebba is standing in the hallway, chewing on a strand of hair. Her mascara is smudged, and she looks tired and hungover.
When Daniel looks beyond her to the kitchen, he understands why. There are beer cans and empty bottles everywhere. He recognizes a Russian brand of vodka. Back in the day everyone bought moonshine, but that’s no longer necessary now that there’s cheap smuggled booze or older siblings who are prepared to make a purchase on behalf of younger teens. Kids today have a lot more money than his generation did.
“Can we have a chat?” he says, as Anton steps aside to take a call.
Ebba leads the way into the kitchen, clearing one end of the table so they can sit down. She perches on the edge of the chair, arms tightly wrapped around her upper body. Daniel feels sorry for her. Sharp words about alcohol and drug abuse can wait. Right now he needs to find out as much as possible about Amanda, what happened at the party before she disappeared.
“Are your parents home?” he begins.
“They’re in Stockholm.” Ebba looks guilty. “Will they have to know about the party?” she asks quietly.
“We’ll see. The most important thing right now is to track down your friend.”
“She just took off,” Ebba mumbles.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could something have happened to make her leave?”
Ebba shrugs. “I don’t remember. Ask Viktor, he might know.”
Anton joins them, his phone still pressed to his ear.
“One of our patrols has found a scarf by the side of the E14, just next to the rest stop before the VM8 chairlift.”
He holds out his phone to Ebba, shows her a picture of a red knitted scarf lying on the snowy ground. “Do you recognize this?”
Ebba nods. “It’s Amanda’s. I’ve got one almost exactly the same.” She disappears into the hallway and comes back with a bright-pink scarf with an identical pattern. “We bought them together, in a sale at H&M.” Her voice is unsteady as she goes on: “What’s it doing there?”
There could be countless explanations, but Daniel doesn’t want to go into them now. However, the discovery is clearly a step forward. It indicates that Amanda was heading toward her home. The distance between Trollvägen and Pilgrimsvägen, where the Halvorssens live, is just over three miles—a walk that should take around forty minutes in the middle of the night. The rest stop is roughly halfway.
“Which side of the road was it on?” Daniel asks.
“They found it on the southern side.”
This suggests that Amanda was walking in the same direction as the traffic—maybe she was hoping for a lift? It was a foolish decision; the main road has no sidewalks. There is no space for pedestrians, and on a dark, snowy night, it could be lethal. However, Amanda seems to have set off along the E14 and lost her scarf. Then she went up in smoke.
“Ask Jarmo to go there instead of coming here,” Daniel says.
“He’s already on his way.”
Anton glances around the kitchen, and Daniel can see that he is drawing the same conclusions about the party. Anton is five years younger than Daniel, but pretty experienced.
He turns to Ebba. “You mentioned a guy called Viktor—why?”
Ebba looks as if she regrets giving Viktor’s name.
“They are together,” she mumbles reluctantly. “Well . . . nearly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They hang out, but it isn’t exactly . . . official.”
“Why not?”
Ebba’s lips tremble. “Amanda doesn’t want that.”
Daniel studies her closely. He has learned that it’s sometimes better to keep quiet until the other person speaks, but Ebba won’t meet his gaze and is clearly unwilling to elaborate.
“Was everything okay between them?” Daniel asks.
“I think they had a fight,” Ebba replies, her voice fading.
“What kind of fight?”
“I think she was mad at him when she left, but I don’t really remember. I was too drunk.” She hides her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and begins to cry.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14
24
It is only five past six when Hanna opens her eyes. It is the first time since she arrived in Åre that she has woken early by herself.
It is pitch black outside, and for a few seconds she can’t work out where she is. Then it all comes flooding back. She is lying in the huge double bed in one of Lydia’s guest rooms. She refrained from drinking wine last night, so she is neither hungover nor sleepy.
She switches on the bedside lamp, opens up her laptop, and surfs the net for a while. She tries to stay away from Christian’s Facebook page, but without success. He’s into regular updates and likes to post photos showing the good life—a glass of wine at sunset, a beer on the ski slope. Or cool pictures of all the attractive apartments he sells.
This morning Hanna can’t see anything new. He hasn’t posted for several days. Oh . . . yes, he has. He’s changed his status. It used to say, “In a relationship with Hanna Ahlander.”
Now he’s in a relationship with Valérie Ohlin.
Hanna goes cold all over.
She stares at the screen for several minutes, digging her nails into the palm of her hand to prevent herself from crying. He’s not worth it. Christian is no different from all the other idiots out there. He has lied and been unfaithful, gone behind her back with this Valérie.
He doesn’t think about anybody but himself.
The tears are burning behind her eyelids. She forces herself to shut down his profile. Checks out the local weather, goes back to surfing aimlessly.
She finds herself on a group page called Åre Local. Someone has posted a photo of a girl in her late teens with black hair. The caption catches Hanna’s attention:
Have you seen Amanda?
She reads on and learns that the girl disappeared in the early hours of Friday morning. Her scarf has been found by the side of the E14, not far from the VM8. Any information could be useful.
The post was placed by a woman—Lena Halvorssen.
When Hanna checks out Lena’s own page, she sees the same picture and the same caption. Suddenly she sees the resemblance and realizes what the connection is: they are mother and daughter.
So sad. She hopes the missing girl isn’t yet another young woman who has fallen victim to a brutal man.
The memory of Josefin is never far away; Hanna has brooded about her for months. Her body was found at home, with severe head injuries. Five-year-old Lisa lost her mother. Her violent father, Niklas Konradsson, worked in narcotics, three floors above Hanna in the same building.
The City Police didn’t want to put a colleague behind bars, so instead everything was swept under the carpet. The official version was that Josefin had slipped in the bathroom and banged her head on the edge of the bathtub. The forensic examination wasn’t worth the paper it was written on, and the verdict was accidental death.
The only person who dared to question the mishandling of the investigation was Hanna. She fought for the case to be reopened, for Josefin’s death to be looked into properly. Maybe the investigating officers should report themselves for gross misconduct? The assertion that Josefin had died as a result of an accident was clearly an invention. Why had no one questioned Niklas’s behavior toward his wife? Why was his version of events simply accepted?
Her boss grew tired of her complaints and accused her of being difficult to work with.
It still hurts.
Hanna returns to the group page. The request was posted only a few hours ago, but there are already lots of supportive comments.
As she reads through them, a fresh update appears, this time from Missing People. Anyone who wants to help search for Amanda is asked to gather in the town square at eight o’clock this morning—the more the better.
Hanna glances at her watch—seven o’clock. She hasn’t set foot outside the house since she arrived on Tuesday. She has drunk wine, cried, and moped over Christian. Lydia told her she could use the Mitsubishi in the garage.
Hanna has some knowledge of professional searches, how to go about looking for a missing person.
She would like to help.
She didn’t manage to get justice for Josefin, but maybe she can make a useful contribution to the search for Amanda?
And maybe she would feel better if she had something else to think about?
25
When Daniel arrives in the square shortly before eight, about twenty warmly dressed people have already gathered. He recognizes quite a few and nods to them but avoids getting drawn into their conversations.
It wasn’t Daniel’s idea to contact Missing People—Amanda’s parents called them. He doesn’t have anything against the organization, given their excellent volunteer base and usefulness on many occasions in the past. But since there is so little to go on, he would have liked more time for the police to get further in their investigation first.
Anyway, it’s too late to change things now. The police already made the decision to issue a request for information about Amanda last night after discovering her scarf. Her photograph and description are now on the police home page.
Should he have brought in Missing People right away? Impossible to answer.
Daniel yawns; he has been awake nearly all night. He tossed and turned for a few hours while Ida and Alice slept. The adrenaline is temporarily compensating for his lack of sleep, but it’s only a matter of time before his body demands rest.
Anton is approaching from the upper parking lot on Stationsvägen. He is carrying two coffees, and hands one to Daniel.
“You look like shit,” he observes. Daniel doesn’t bother replying; Anton doesn’t look that good either. He gratefully sips the black coffee, feeling its heat spread through his body.
“Östersund sent up two more dog teams,” Anton informs him. “Jarmo is here too—they’re waiting in the parking lot.”
A man in his fifties, wearing a wool hat and holding a blue megaphone, positions himself on the steps of the black building that houses a restaurant above the Stadium Store.
