Page 143 of Hidden in Memories
Hanna is trying to ignore thoughts of the incursion which will soon begin. She wishes Daniel hadn’t told her about the limited time available; then she would have been able to concentrate fully on Erik.
As it is, the clock is ticking in the back of her mind, and the pressure is unbearable. Cold sweat is running down her spine; her heart is pounding so hard that her chest is hurting.
They are talking about Erik’s childhood; she has asked him to tell her about his foster home.
At this precise moment it doesn’t matter that he is a double murderer—Hanna sees nothing but the child in him. The six-year-old who witnessed his only parent’s gradual decline. The eleven-year-old who found his dead mother’s body in the kitchen. The young boy who first ended up in a violent foster home, then had to fend for himself as soon as he turned eighteen and society no longer had any obligation toward him.
“I’d really like to help you,” she says. “If you’ll let me.”
“You can’t. No one can help me. I have nothing to live for. It’s over, don’t you understand?”
“There are people who love you,” Hanna counters. “You have to believe that. Your wife Tiina is sitting in a car parked outside the hotel. You can see it from the window. She came here for your sake.”
Erik gives a weary sigh. The hopelessness coming down the line is almost worse than his previous aggression.
“It’s too late for me and Tiina.”
“That’s not true. Would you like to talk to her?”
“There’s no point.” His voice breaks. “I don’t want to see her.”
“But she’s here, whatever you say.” Hanna hears the shrillness in her own voice and forces herself to tone it down. “Tiina has come because she cares about you. She doesn’t want you to die. No one does, including me.”
The back of the chair is hard against the base of her spine. She can smell plastic.
Erik takes a deep breath, as if he is about to say something. Hanna hopes—prays to a higher power—that he is going to come to his senses. She has been waiting for the right moment to reveal that his dog is here. Her instincts tell her it’s time.
“By the way, Tiina has brought Zelda with her.”
Silence. The only sound is the faint murmur of conversation outside the motor home.
“Zelda’s here?”
There is an almost imperceptible spark of hope in Erik’s voice. It is so unexpected that it gives Hanna goosebumps.
“Zelda is waiting for you—she’s desperate to be with her daddy. Don’t you want to come out and see her?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll shoot me.”
The fear in Erik’s voice pushes everything else aside. It vibrates in the air; it is almost tangible.
Hanna puts as much conviction as she can summon up into her response: “Erik, I promise you. We are not going to harm you. You have my word—no one is going to hurt you.”
She turns her head, looking for Tiina and Zelda. They are sitting in a patrol car about twenty yards away.
“Wait a minute,” she says. She leaves the motor home and hurries over to the car. She opens the back door and speaks softly to the dog. When Zelda shows an interest, Hanna holds out the phone.
“Say hello to your daddy,” she says encouragingly, while giving Tiina a sympathetic look.
“Hi, Zelda,” Erik says shakily.
The dog pricks up her ears at the familiar sound. Then she barks and sniffs the phone.
“Did you hear that?” Hanna says, adjusting her headset. “She agrees with me—she really wants you to come out and give her a hug.”
