Chapter 48
Another briefing with their colleagues in ?stersund has been arranged for two o’clock. That means Hanna has just under half an hour before they gather in the conference room.
She needs time to gather her thoughts.
When Staffan Berg came over to their table and said he’d seen her in the newspaper, she was completely unprepared—so shocked that she could hardly speak.
Daniel was left to conduct the interview while she sat there like an idiot.
Afterward she blamed the time of the month, said she was suffering from stomach cramps. On the way back in the car she sat with her eyes closed, hoping that Daniel had forgotten Staffan’s comment. At least he didn’t ask her about it; fortunately he had a phone call that took up most of the journey.
She has just sat down at her desk when her cellphone rings.
She doesn’t recognize the number, but that’s not unusual.
Maybe it’s a relative of one of the friends staying at the Lowengren house?
Emil said he hadn’t told his family about Filippa’s death, but William’s father has already been in touch and more or less shouted at Grip over the phone.
It wouldn’t be surprising if one of the other parents called—Olivia’s father, or maybe Pontus’s mom or dad.
“Hanna Ahlander.”
She switches to speakerphone to keep her hands free, steeling herself in case it’s a close relative of Filippa. Those conversations are always the most difficult, because how do you respond to bottomless grief when there is no consolation to be had?
“Hi, Hanna,” says a female voice. There is a hint of delight, as if the unknown person is very pleased that she has answered. She certainly doesn’t sound like a relative of the deceased. “Can you spare a few minutes?”
Hanna switches on the computer. “What’s this about?” She clicks to bring up her password, and the screen lights up.
“My name is Victoria, and I’m calling from Chat magazine—I’m sure you’ve heard of us; we’re one of the bestselling weeklies in Sweden.”
“Sorry?”
“We think the news about your new boyfriend is so exciting—your romance with Henry Sylvester!”
It takes a second for Hanna to realize that she is speaking to a gossip columnist. This is not police business. She quickly switches off the speaker function and presses her phone to her ear; she doesn’t want anyone to overhear.
“Can you tell us how the two of you met? I mean, you’re an unusual couple—the policewoman and the financier, it almost sounds like Lady and the Tramp, if you know what I mean.
” She laughs, as if she can already picture the headline.
“Did you know what a catch he was when you fell in love? He’s very, very wealthy! ”
The woman’s unabashed curiosity is giving Hanna feelings of panic, as if she is standing naked in front of a fully dressed crowd, all staring greedily at her.
Her palms grow damp, sweat breaks out on her upper lip. She can hardly breathe.
“I’d love to hear more about your romantic trip to Lapland this weekend,” says the voice, brimming with enthusiasm.
Hanna tries desperately to regain control. She forces herself to take several deep breaths, grips the edge of the desk with her free hand. She closes her eyes and presses her fingertips against the wood until it hurts.
“Is it true that the hotel opened up exclusively for the two of you?”
How the hell does she know that?
How has she got a hold of Hanna’s cellphone number?
Hanna looks around to make sure the door is closed; she can’t risk any of her colleagues noticing what is going on.
“Sorry, I have to go,” she says breathlessly. It is hard to get the words out. All she wants to do is get rid of the inquisitive journalist. She can’t talk to a gossip columnist about Henry, and she has no intention of giving an interview.
She would like to pull a blanket over her head and hide.
“I can call back at another time, if that’s better for you? Your choice.”
Hanna fights the urge to yell at her that there will never be a suitable time. Instead she manages to say, “Bye,” and ends the call.
She is on the verge of tears.
This is not okay.
Somehow she has to put an end to it.