Page 31 of Hidden in Memories
“They’re young and think they’re invincible,” Hanna points out.
“And presumably they’re from Stockholm,” Daniel replies with a grin.
As someone who was born and brought up in Sundsvall, he likes to remind Hanna that she is a blow-in from the capital. In return she calls him a country hick. They both love living in Åre, but they’re not quite so fond of the tourists.
As soon as they reach the hotel, the automatic glass doors slide open. They are more or less the only modern feature on the facade. The rest—the dark-brown wood paneling, the pillars on either side of the entrance, and the leaded windows in white and English red—look exactly the same as they have done for 125 years.
“Did you know that this place was built by a woman at the end of the nineteenth century?” Hanna says. “Imagine embarking on a project like that—in those days.”
Daniel did know. Kristina Hansson, who came from Skåne in the south, didn’t even have the right to vote when she started the construction of Åre’s first hotel.
“I guess she and Charlotte Wretlind would have had a lot to talk about,” Hanna goes on. “They both seem to have had tremendous drive.”
From what Daniel has heard about Charlotte so far, there seems little doubt that she was equipped with both stubbornness and a strong will. The question is—was it those qualities that led to her tragic death?
They walk into the foyer, and Daniel looks around for Filip; they have arranged to meet him here. He can’t imagine what the young man is going through right now. How do you even function after hearing news like that?
The responsibility for finding the killer feels like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He stares at the stuffed moose, which has stood in the entrance for as long as he can remember.
It stares back with sorrowful eyes, almost as if it is offering its heartfelt sympathy.
26
A young man with fair hair and a pale complexion gets up from one of the club armchairs and comes toward them.
Hanna immediately assumes he is Filip Wretlind. According to the records, he is supposed to be twenty-three, but he looks younger with his rounded cheeks. He has tucked his longish hair with its center parting behind his ears.
“Are you the police?” he asks.
Hanna and Daniel say hello and shake hands.
A pretty girl of about the same age appears behind Filip and tucks her arm through his.
“This is Emily, my girlfriend,” he explains. “She came up with me when I heard ... that Mom ...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence; he seems stunned, as if he can’t quite take in what has happened. His eyes are red-rimmed, the skin beneath them is thin, with a bluish tinge.
Hanna notices some kind of tic as he quickly shuts his eyes and opens them again.
She pats him on the shoulder. “Shall we sit down?” She leads the way to the Malmsten Room, the hotel’s most beautiful lounge area, with wooden paneling and beams on the ceiling. Hanna and Daniel havearranged to interview Filip in there, hoping that the cozy atmosphere might make him feel better.
Daniel turns to Emily. “Would you mind waiting in the foyer? We’d like to speak to your boyfriend alone.”
Filip looks panic stricken. His fingers find Emily’s; he squeezes her hand so tightly that she visibly winces.
“I want her there,” he says breathlessly.
“No problem,” Daniel concedes after a quick glance at Hanna, who nods. This is not a formal interview. If having Emily there is easier for Filip, then that’s fine.
She is surprised to see that he is wearing ordinary sneakers, even though it’s well below freezing outside, with snow on the ground.
They settle in a corner of the Malmsten Room, where they can be in peace. A pleasant waiter brings a tray with four glasses and a carafe of water.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Hanna begins. “This can’t be easy for you.”
At first Filip says nothing, his eyes flitting between the police officers and his girlfriend.
“I can’t get my head around it.” He looks up at the ceiling, swallows hard. “I can’t believe that Mom is ... gone. The whole thing feels unreal. I keep waiting for a text message from her.” He sighs deeply. “It’s easier if I just imagine she’s away ... Maybe that sounds stupid. Sorry.”
