Page 82 of Hidden in Memories
It is late in the afternoon when Monica is asked to fetch some extra linen tablecloths from the storeroom. She hurries toward the basement, where the laundry is situated, suppressing a little shudder when she sets off down the narrow staircase. It is said that a young girl broke her neck here in the 1950s when someone pushed her down the stairs. Rumor has it that her unhappy spirit still haunts the corridors.
Suddenly a quiet voice calls Monica’s name, then the door of the staff bar opens and Sean is standing there. Her eyes widen. What is he doing here?
Before she can ask, he steps forward and draws her to him, pulls her into the room where staff gatherings are held once a week.
Today it is empty and in darkness, with not a soul in sight.
Sean quickly closes the door behind them and turns the key in the lock. Then he pushes Monica up against the grand piano. His mouth seeks hers, his tongue forces its way between her lips, and he kisses her so hard that she can’t breathe.
It feels unfamiliar, strange, forbidden. But also ... wonderful.
“Oh ...” she murmurs, letting herself be swept along.
Sean tastes of cigarette smoke and tobacco. It is like a dream as he presses himself against her. The kisses stop, and he takes a step back, breathing heavily.
“You drive me crazy,” he groans. “I can’t bear it, I have to have you.”
Monica isn’t quite sure what he means, but she doesn’t want this moment to end. It’s just like in the books she’s read. She still can’t believe she is capable of evoking such strong desire in such a handsome man.
“What are you doing to me, little girl?” Sean says hoarsely. He cups his hands around her cheeks, studies her face as if he wants to imprint it on his memory forever. “You’ve cast a spell on me, you know that?”
Then he kisses her roughly. One hand finds its way under her blouse, inside her bra. Monica stiffens, but Sean doesn’t notice.
There is a sound from the corridor. She pushes him away. She absolutely must not be caught with a guest—she would lose her job.
“I have to go,” she whispers. “Someone might come.”
Sean looks so upset that her heart melts with love. This has all happened so fast, but now she understands the situation.
She loves him.
They love each other.
Fate has brought them together. They are meant to be a couple, even though he is married with children.
“I have to see you again,” he says quietly. “Soon. I’ll come up with something.”
Monica nods, adjusts her clothing, and slips out of the room with her heart in her mouth.
64
It is almost three thirty by the time they gather for a briefing at the station.
For once Birgitta Grip is in the conference room when Hanna arrives. The other investigators in Östersund will be participating by video link, but Grip had a meeting with the municipal executive in Järpen about the case, and decided to come to Åre afterward. She is sitting at the top of the table, unbuttoning her thick jacket.
Hanna takes a seat opposite her while they wait for the rest of the team. Daniel is making a quick phone call, Anton has gone to the bathroom, and Raffe is on his way.
“How are you doing?” Grip asks as she removes her jacket.
Hanna has no intention of pretending that everything is fine. She carries with her the sight of Aada’s lifeless and abandoned body in the snow. It brings back memories of eighteen-year-old Amanda, who went missing in December just over a year ago.
Seeing a young person die is especially painful.
“Not great,” she answers honestly. “It’s been a tough day. The fact that another person has been killed feels like a failure. We should have been able to prevent it somehow.”
“I understand how you feel,” Grip assures her. “You never get used to that kind of crime scene.”
Many years of experience are reflected in her deep-set eyes. Hanna sees both sorrow and cynicism, but not a trace of defeatism.
