Page 53 of Snowman

SNOWMAN

She sat in mycar, quiet, but I could feel her anger, her pain. She knew now.

Every mask I had worn in front of her, every lie I'd let her believe, she saw through it all. She knew exactly who I was. And somehow, I felt relief. Like the weight pressing on my chest for years had suddenly lifted. For the first time, I wasn't pretending.

But what she didn't know, what I couldn't let her know, was that I was driving her out of town. Not to protect her, not really. I had to hide her, lock her away for now. She was vulnerable, and vulnerable people… they break too easily. I couldn't risk her telling anyone. Not yet.

The road ahead was just a stretch of dark woods and endless asphalt. The headlights carved out pieces of the night, but everything else blurred into shadow. The rumble of tires, the silence in the car, it all seemed far away, as if we weren't there. Just echoes of ourselves.

I looked over at her, just for a second. She was staring out the window, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs.

Tonight, I won. But she? She lost everything.

"Bree," I hesitated.

I reached out, my hand finding her thigh. I gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. Her body stiffened, but she didn't pull away. My hand nearly wrapped around her whole thigh. She got so thin. She felt like she could break.

"I lost Mel," she whispered, her voice barely holding together. Her eyes stayed fixed on the window. "Laura… she… she slit her throat."

Her words hung in the air.

"What?" I turned to her, the car wobbling slightly on the road.

"And Joe," she continued, her voice cracking. "They had two little girls…" She swallowed hard, her breath hitching. "They said they… they will eat her."

I blinked, my brain struggling to make sense of the words. "Eat her?" I repeated, my voice harder now. My hands gripped the wheel, knuckles whitening. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Her hands trembled, resting on her lap, and she let out another broken sob. I pulled my hand back from her thigh and grabbed my phone, dialing Eric with one hand while keeping the car steady with the other.

When he picked up, I didn't wait. "I have Bree," I said, my voice flat, controlled. "But her sister's still in the house."

"The younger one?" Eric asked. "Do you need backup?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at Bree. "But I need some time alone with him first."

"Want me to call Mother?"

I felt my jaw tighten at the mention of her. My grip on the wheel hardened, the leather creaking under my fingers. "Tell her to meet me at the farm."

I hung up, shoving the phone back into my pocket. Gripping the wheel with both hands, I yanked it hard, spinning the car around. The tires screeched against the frozen road, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Bree gasped, holding the door handle as the car swerved.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" she shouted, looking at me.

"We have to go back," I said, my tone steady, but my foot pressed harder on the gas. The car moved forward, the needle on the speedometer climbing. I looked at her, my eyes locking with hers. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated, her lips parting like she wanted to argue. But then she nodded, her red eyes glistening. "Why do I feel like I shouldn't?"

I pressed my hand to her thigh again, this time holding her gaze. "Because you shouldn't," I said honestly.

After a moment, I added, "But tonight, you can."

Her lips trembled. "Why do you…" She hesitated, clearing her throat. "Why do you kill people?"

Her question caught me off guard. For a second, I didn't say anything. I kept my eyes on the road, the yellow lines blurring as I drove faster.

"When I was twenty-five," I said finally, my voice quieter now, "I was the youngest detective on the force. My first case…" I stopped, exhaling sharply through my nose. "It was a man who killed his wife. They had a twelve-year-old boy at home."

"The guy was best friends with Jan Johansson," I continued, looking at Bree. "The guy walked. Case closed."

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