Page 101 of Hidden in Memories
He pulls on his jacket. “You ought to go home too. We haven’t stopped all day.”
“I’m fine.”
He gives her an apologetic smile.
“It’s not easy for Ida—she has no idea what it’s like to be a police officer. How a case kind of swallows you up.”
Hanna focuses on her papers. “It’s fine,” she says without looking at him. “It is Good Friday after all.”
Then she tries to muster up an understanding smile, even though she hates the fact that he is leaving, going home because of Ida and Alice. She hates it when he blames his family and complains to her.
It would be better if he simply said it was time to finish for the day. She doesn’t want to be treated like a sympathetic colleague.
It makes her feel so lonely.
A failed singleton who has nothing better to do than work over a holiday.
79
When Filip emerges from Åregården, a man in a gray jacket is standing across the street, smoking.
The sight makes Filip want a cigarette, even though he has promised Emily that he will cut down.
They are on their way to Supper for dinner. She has booked a table in an attempt to distract him from that awful article on his mom. He has spent all day holed up in his room, driving himself crazy with rage and shame.
That journalist certainly had him fooled. He has made a fool of himself, and is thoroughly embarrassed. Worst of all, people are going to believe terrible things about his mom. And he is the one who helped paint that picture. He is finding it hard to forgive himself. He has been so naive, there is no excuse.
“Wait!” Emily calls out from the main entrance as she tries to catch up with him on the slippery street. “Don’t go so fast!”
He slows down and puts his arm around her, kisses her forehead. They have been together since high school, and he loves her so much. Her family is like his family now; he has stayed over at her house countless times.
Her parents are still married, and no one talks about money or business at the dinner table. Her mother is a math teacher, and her father works in vocational training.
“I don’t know how you put up with me,” he says, kissing her again.
Emily smiles, and for a moment everything seems the same as usual. The world goes away. He stops and kisses her in the middle of the street; he just wants to hide in her arms and forget what has happened over the past few days.
A car sounds its horn, and they jump up onto the sidewalk, hand in hand.
When they turn into Mörviksvägen, he sees a dark figure out of the corner of his eye, doing the same. He looks a bit like the guy who was smoking outside Åregården just now.
It’s almost as if he is following them.
Filip glances over his shoulder, but the man is gone. It’s probably a journalist, wanting to ask more intrusive questions.
“Let’s go,” he says to Emily, increasing his speed.
He has no intention of letting some other bastard get a hold of him.
80
Morris hurls himself at Hanna as soon as she walks through the door, yowling so reproachfully that she feels guilty, even though she knows that Lydia and the kids stopped by earlier in the day to feed him. The children have no objection to playing with Aunt Hanna’s new cat—they love visiting Morris.
She picks him up, whispering apologies. Her head is full of thoughts of the investigation, a snake pit of speculation about Hedin, Lehto, and the murdered women. It’s all connected, but she can’t see a clear pattern.
She carries Morris into the living room and sinks down onto the sofa so that he can settle on her chest, his favorite spot. He really does weigh a ton, but he can stay there for ten minutes before she fixes something to eat.
For some reason the trip to Storlien comes into her mind. Something feels wrong, but she can’t work out why.
