Page 65 of Hidden in Memories
Outside, a car starts up and zooms out of the parking lot, its tires screeching as it disappears.
Hanna pictures the hunting knife, the sharp blade shining in the sunlight when Daniel brushed off the snow.
Maybe they are getting close to a solution.
They could be looking at a serious crime that had to be hidden by an even more serious crime.
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Aada stumbles as she hurries through the empty parking garage. It is almost half past midnight. She is so tired that her legs are trembling. All she wants is to get home and fall into bed.
She doesn’t start work until midday. If she can just get to sleep rather than lying awake tossing and turning, then maybe she will be able to get some proper rest.
The sky is black and cloudy as she sets off for the staff accommodation. It is snowing, a curtain of white flakes falling to the ground. The snowplow hasn’t yet cleared the road.
It is horrible being alone on this cold night, but Aada consoles herself with the thought that it is only a short walk. Soon she will be able to lock the door behind her and she will be safe.
In spite of her fears, she managed the late shift. It gives her a little spark of hope—maybe things aren’t so bad after all. Maybe there is a way out of her difficulties. She really wants to build a new life in Sweden. Settle down somewhere safe, create a good future. In the best case scenario, meet a kindhearted man who doesn’t drink and isn’t violent.
Preferably a Swede. Swedish men seem nicer than those back home in Maardu.
She’d love to have children too—well, at least one. A little girl who wouldn’t need to go to bed at night feeling terrified because of a drunken, menacing stepfather.
A cold gust of wind comes racing through the night, and Aada pushes her hands in her pockets. She has left her gloves at home, and her fingers are freezing.
The distant echo of an avalanche control blast rolls across the valley and fades to the west. Aada knows they are clearing the snow to prepare the ski runs for the next day, but the dull rumble still makes her shudder. It feels ominous, and it reminds her of home, of her grandmother’s heartrending tales of the war and the Russian invasion.
She increases her speed, walking quickly with her head down.
The cold nips at her cheeks.
An unexpected noise makes her look up. It sounds like a push notification, as if someone is nearby.
She glances around, but can’t see anyone.
Or is someone standing waiting by the steps?
She is only fifty yards from the staff-accommodation block, but the whirling snow makes it hard to see properly.
Aada screws up her eyes, but it doesn’t help.
A shadow peels away from the darkness.
A tall figure, a man with a powerful physique, comes toward her. It is too dark to make out his facial features, but Aada stands there as if she has turned to stone.
She recognizes the way he moves. She knows who is walking quickly toward her.
He has found her.
Then
December 26, 1973
It is late, after midnight, and Monica is lying in her narrow bed in the room with the faded wallpaper. After another long shift at the hotel, she shouldn’t have any problem getting to sleep, but her whole body is fizzing with excitement.
Her heart is pounding so hard that she is aware of every beat.
She can’t stop thinking about Sean, as she has started to call him in her mind. At dinner this evening she was allocated to the round table once again. He was sitting there with his wife, their two children, and the other family.
