Page 132 of Hidden in Memories
“Erik Mogren, this is Hanna Ahlander from the Åre police. I’m trying to call you. Please answer your phone.”
She gazes up at the windows. Daniel is standing a short distance away, and gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment she repeats her message; then she tries Mogren’s number again.
The phone rings seven times—no answer. The line is a little erratic, the seconds tick by, and she is clutching her phone so tightly that her fingers are damp with perspiration.
There is no sign of movement behind the dark windows of the mountain hotel.
She hears the screech of brakes as a train slows down on its way to the station in Storlien.
The air goes out of Hanna. This isn’t going to work.
She is about to end the call when a hoarse male voice says, “Hello?”
The relief is so overwhelming that she almost drops the phone. Then the adrenaline kicks in, sweeping aside any hesitation. She empties her head of all the opinions and feelings she has had about Mogren so far, deletes her own likes and dislikes.
All she can see in her mind’s eye is his face.
A man in crisis.
This is probably the worst day of his life. He is agitated, and incapable of making a rational decision. They don’t know each other; they have spoken only once for a couple of minutes. She doesn’t know the circumstances that have led to this point. She has a very limited knowledge of his childhood and what is driving him now, or the burning hatred that seems to have led to the two brutal murders.
None of that matters anymore.
Right now Erik Mogren is simply a human being, and the last thing he needs is her contempt. She will treat him with dignity, show him respect and sympathy.
Above all, she is not here to judge him. That is the only way she can hope for a resolution that will not end in tragedy.
“Hi, Erik,” she says in a clear, warm voice. “My name is Hanna Ahlander—we spoke in the foyer at Copperhill the other day. Thank you for answering your phone.”
There is a long pause before he speaks. The air feels colder; Hanna is acutely aware of her frozen feet.
“What do you want?”
His tone is hostile, his voice hoarse. He sounds like a different man from the one she met at the hotel, when he quietly told her about the altercation between Paul Lehto and Charlotte Wretlind.
“I just want to talk to you, that’s all.”
Hanna makes an effort to sound interested, and realizes that she actually is. She genuinely wants to understand what has brought him here.
“How are you feeling?” she adds.
“None of your fucking business!”
He sounds unsettled, his breathing is rapid. This is not good—someone under pressure is unpredictable. The smallest sign of a lack of respect could trigger a violent response.
In his position it is all about keeping control.
“I understand,” Hanna replies.
“No, you fucking don’t!” he yells in her ear. “You have no idea what’s going on in my head!”
Hanna takes a deep breath. No doubt Erik is facing utter desperation, knowing that the police are outside. This makes him dangerous. The more powerless he feels, the greater the risk that he will resort to violence again—it is his only tool when it comes to mastering his environment.
“I’m sorry,” she replies in the same calm tone. “I just meant I understand that you’re in a difficult situation.” She waits for a few seconds before continuing, giving him space if he wants to say something.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want you to know that no one has come here intending to harm you. We just want to help work out a solution. Together.”
She glances up at the hotel again, thinks she glimpses movement on the floor below the bar. As if Mogren is standing by the window immediately below the location where they think Filip is being held captive.
