Page 113 of Hidden in Memories
Hanna swears silently over the situation in which she has put herself. How could she be so stupid as to sit here drinking champagne? Now she can’t drive.
“Could he have gone to see a friend?”
“He doesn’t know anyone here, apart from Henry.”
Hanna can confirm that Filip isn’t here.
“And the two of you hadn’t had a fight?”
“No! He’s disappeared!”
Hanna looks out of the window again. It is pitch black; the temperature is well below freezing. The circumstances are not ideal for a young man from Stockholm wearing sneakers to set off on a spontaneous long walk.
“Okay, so this is what we’re going to do,” Hanna says, sounding much calmer than she actually feels. “You stay in your hotel room incase Filip shows up. I will speak to my colleagues and check if anyone has seen him in the village.”
She adds a few words of consolation and makes Emily promise to let her know immediately if Filip returns. Then she ends the call.
Henry’s face has lost all its color. He takes out his phone; Hanna can see that he has several missed calls from Emily.
“Do you think the two of them might have quarreled?” Hanna asks. “You know Filip much better than I do—would he take off if he was mad at Emily?”
Henry shakes his head. “It’s not like him to disappear without a word. He cares about her way too much. I’ve met up with them a few times this week, and everything seemed fine between them.”
Hanna tries to think clearly.
Filip has been gone for only a few hours, which isn’t much at his age. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be a police matter until he had been missing for at least twenty-four hours. Plus he is grieving, which can have an impact on “normal” behavior.
For all they know he could be sitting by himself somewhere with his phone switched off, drowning his sorrows in booze.
But Emily sounded hysterical. And Henry is clearly worried.
A shiver runs down Hanna’s spine.
Would Charlotte’s murderer be so cruel as to go after her son too?
89
Less than an hour later, all police patrols in the area have been informed that Filip Wretlind is missing, and they have been asked to keep a lookout for him. Hanna has provided a description: He is six feet tall, has wavy fair hair, blue eyes, and rounded cheeks that make him look younger than he is.
Henry added that he is probably wearing a dark-blue padded Moncler jacket.
Hanna is still at the Villa. She feels stone-cold sober, but she dare not get behind the wheel yet. They are sitting at one end of the huge dining table, and Henry has made them both a strong espresso.
Hanna has also spoken to the regional operations center and explained the situation. Then she called the maître d’ at Supper and asked her to find out whether anyone on the staff had noticed Filip going outside to smoke.
If anyone remembers the smallest detail, they must speak up.
She did the same with the Åregården hotel. If anyone has seen Filip, they must contact the police immediately.
Henry’s eyes are dark with worry. He too has tried Filip’s number many times, without success. It rings and rings, but no one answers. This means his phone isn’t switched off; Hanna can’t decide whether this is good or bad.
“I should have insisted that he stay here with me,” Henry says. “There are enough bedrooms. But he didn’t want to be in the hotel where his mother was murdered—that’s why I booked a room at Åregården for them.”
“It’s not your fault that he’s missing.”
“It feels that way.” Henry buries his face in his hands. “I’ve watched Filip grow up ever since he was born, and now he has no one else, apart from Emily. His father checked out a long time ago. I should have taken better care of him. I have sons of my own—I know how important a father figure is.”
He sounds devastated. He raises his head and looks Hanna in the eye.
