Page 12 of Hidden in Memories
“What—like, you, me, and a thousand tourists?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll have to wait forever for a table.”
Daniel laughs and sips his coffee. “I never thought of that.”
“I think you’re going to have to settle for a hot dog from the OKQ8 kiosk, unless you want to stand in line for an hour,” Hanna says with a smile. “But I’m happy to go along with you if you like?”
10
The corridor leading to the Silver Suite is silent when Ivar from maintenance knocks tentatively on the door. It is ten thirty, so it should be okay to go in and check the thermostat that the guest complained about. It is a sunny day, and by this time most people are out on the slopes.
There is noDo Not Disturbsign on the door, so the room is probably empty. Ivar uses his key card to open up, and just to be on the safe side, he calls out, “Hello? May I come in?”
No reply. Good, that must mean he can get on with the job, even though he can see a cell phone charging on one of the side tables.
He is about to walk in when he notices something odd about the carpet. It is covered in dark-red patches. It looks as if someone has splashed red wine all over the place, then trampled around in the mess.
Although there is something else ... a weird smell that stops him in his tracks. It is unpleasant, acrid, almost like ... blood.
He gazes at the marks on the carpet, then glances toward the bedroom. The door is ajar, and the room is in darkness—it seems like the blinds are still closed.
The silence grows, becomes oppressive and frightening.
Cautiously he moves forward, pushes open the bedroom door with one foot. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Then he sees the body on the floor next to the double bed.
The unseeing, dead eyes are staring up at the ceiling. There is a gaping wound in the throat, the skin is peeled back around the edges. The rest of the body is covered in stab wounds, and the sheets are drenched in blood that has dripped from the bed and formed puddles on the floor.
There is sticky redness wherever he looks.
It takes a moment for Ivar to process what is in front of him. Then he staggers into the corridor and vomits.
11
Daniel appears in the doorway of Hanna’s office, his phone pressed to his ear.
“We have to go up to Copperhill right away.” His expression is both alert and serious. “There seems to have been a fatal stabbing at the hotel during the night. One of the guests has been found dead in their room.”
Hanna grabs her jacket and runs to catch up with Daniel on the way to the parking lot. As he reverses the car, he summarizes the information that has come through from regional dispatch in Umeå, via the Serious Crimes Unit in Östersund.
“The alarm was raised at ten fifty-three.”
“Who called it in?”
“The hotel manager. A maintenance engineer found a dead woman with multiple stab wounds in one of the suites.”
Hanna is lost for words. A murdered woman lying in her own blood is one of the worst sights anyone can see. She has attended this kind of crime scene before, when she worked with victims of domestic violence in Stockholm.
It gave her nightmares.
“The poor guy must have been badly shocked,” she murmurs.
In her head she has already begun to go through everything that will need to be done. She can forget about having any time off over Easter.
Daniel puts his foot down. The speed limit on the highway is fifty miles per hour, but there is no other traffic in sight.
“Are the CSIs on the way?” Hanna wonders.
“Yes, but it will take at least an hour for them to drive up from Östersund.”
