Hidden in Memories (The Åre Murders), page 30
“There! I’m sure I saw something!”
The drone has moved on, but Daniel also thought he saw a silhouette that didn’t belong in the room.
“Fly back,” he says quickly. “We need to take another look.”
The pilot moves the joystick. Daniel and Hanna wait as the seconds crawl by. Then the quadcopter is in the correct position, hovering motionless once more.
It is dark inside the window, it is not easy to see through the dirty glass, but the image on the screen appears to show someone sitting on a chair.
“Is that Filip?” Hanna whispers. “Do you think it could be him?”
The figure is not moving, the head is lolling onto the chest.
Hanna inhales sharply. “Is he alive?”
104
When Filip wakes up he is sitting in the middle of a room with a dark carpet. There are large windows all around, with nothing but whiteness visible outside.
The bright light hurts his eyes so much that he closes them again.
The next time he opens them, he is even more bewildered. He is alone, there is no sign of his abductor, and he is in a place that resembles an old-fashioned bar. There is a long counter behind him, with small groups of chairs and tables dotted around. The ceiling is covered in highly stylized paintings of animals and people in pastel colors.
In his confused state it looks bizarre, like a weird version of Dante’s Inferno.
Is he under the influence of drugs?
He still can’t move. His arms and legs are tied to the chair; he has no feeling in his muscles. The gag has slipped down a little, making it easier to breathe, but the panic means he is shaking uncontrollably.
Was this how his mom felt in the moments before she died? Was she as afraid as he is now?
She had always represented the security in his life. When Dad didn’t get in touch at Christmas, she would always wrap presents and pretend they came from him so that Filip wouldn’t be upset.
There is a horrible musty, stale smell, and he is very thirsty. His lips are dry, and his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth. When he tries to swallow, there isn’t enough saliva.
Is he going to die here—of thirst?
Filip tugs at the ropes, but his efforts are in vain. The pain makes him grimace; the skin around his wrists and ankles is already sore and red-raw. He cannot free himself.
He slips in and out of consciousness. When he comes around again, he can’t work out how much time has passed. But something is different, there is a flashing light in the distance. The white landscape has changed.
Blue light.
It vanishes as quickly as it appeared, but it does allow a faint hope to stir in his breast.
Filip prays, silently and feverishly. Please let it mean that the police are here, that they have found him.
That someone is on the way to rescue him.
Here I am, he wants to shout. Help me!
But all that emerges is a muffled groan.
It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, it is impossible to make himself heard.
105
The softly undulating mountain landscape acts mostly as a bitter reminder to Hanna of her own inadequacy. The pressure is too great. She doesn’t want to contemplate the beauty of nature when the situation is so challenging.
She feels as if she has been leaning forward and staring at the images from the drone for an eternity. They are almost certain that it is Filip who is tied up in the bar on the top floor. However, they cannot determine what state he is in.
There has been no sign of Erik Mogren, but the thermal imaging camera indicates that there is another person in the building, not far away from Filip.
“We have to establish contact with Mogren,” Hanna says. “We can’t wait for the negotiators from Östersund.”
Daniel pulls his hat down over his ears. “I suggest you start talking to him in the meantime. I’m sure you can get him to listen better than I can.”
Hanna stares at her colleague. “I have no training in this kind of thing.”
“At least you studied psychology at university.”
True, but none of her textbooks have prepared her for this. There are 150 trained police negotiators in Sweden, and Hanna is not one of them.
“You can do it.” Daniel sounds completely convinced.
“I’m not sure.” Hanna can hear the tremble in her voice. The smallest misstep could have fatal consequences—it is a terrible responsibility to take on.
“You’ve got the necessary skills,” Daniel assures her. “Believe me. You’ll do a much better job than anyone else.”
He puts his arm around her shoulders and draws her close. For a few seconds she allows herself to relax, leaning against him and feeling the warmth of his body.
“You’re the best cop I know,” he adds quietly. “You’ve got this, Hanna.”
When he lets go she is calmer, more confident. He believes in her ability, so she must do the same.
She closes her eyes, tries to remember what she has read about negotiating in a hostage context. It is important to create trust by showing empathy and listening actively. This requires the ability to put yourself in the other person’s position.
The goal is to ensure that no one gets hurt, which means you must assume you are approaching a person in crisis.
At the same time, Erik Mogren is acting rationally in his own eyes, so she will have to try to alter his behavior of his own volition. By building up trust it is possible to create an atmosphere in which he will be ready to listen to the suggestions of others.
Slowly she turns her head and looks up at the bar and the bank of shining windows.
Filip is in there, tied to a chair. She really wants to believe he is alive. She has to proceed from that assumption.
She takes out her phone.
Filip’s life is in her hands.
106
The phone rings out, but Erik doesn’t answer. Hanna tries again, and again.
“I need to be able to call out to him,” she says to Daniel.
Within minutes a megaphone has been produced. Hanna positions herself behind a tree so that Mogren will be able to hear her, but she won’t be exposed to danger. They have to assume he is armed—the gun cupboard in his home was empty.
She raises the megaphone to her mouth and shouts as loudly and clearly as she can.
“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.
Which means he must be in the dining room or the Loft, just as they suspected.
“We’re not going to enter the building until both you and I are in agreement, okay?”
“How can I trust you?” Erik snaps. “Why should I believe you? All you want is to lock me up and throw away the key.”
“I imagine this must be very hard for you.” Hanna means every word.
Erik is breathing heavily now, and says something she can’t make out. At least he isn’t yelling anymore.
She thinks back to the day when they stood together in the foyer. His features were smooth, giving nothing away. Now his deep frustration is coming across very clearly, and she can imagine that his face is distorted.
“I’m here,” she reassures him. “All I want is to help you. If you’ll let me?”
The key thing is to keep the conversation going so that he doesn’t hang up.
Hanna is prepared to do her utmost to gain Erik’s trust, to make him feel he can turn to her for advice and support. This is the most critical moment in his life.
But the fear is pounding within her body just as much as his. As long as they are talking to each other, Erik can’t hurt anyone.
Which means there is still a chance to find a way out.
107
In the end Filip slips into a kind of torpor, and the room disappears. He is slumped on the chair with his eyes closed. His thirst is increasing as the hope of rescue fades.
He is vaguely aware of an agitated voice speaking loudly in the background. He opens his eyes and looks up—has his kidnapper returned?
Is this when he is going to die, just like his mom?
Images of her dead body drift through his mind. He didn’t get to see her, but the little he has heard is enough. Her throat was cut, she choked on her own blood.
His heart is racing, and he fights to remain conscious. He wants to scream and shout, even though he knows it is pointless. Instead he forces himself to listen to whoever is talking on the phone.
Filip can hear the answers, but not the questions.
The man sounds angry and bitter, switching between feeling sorry for himself and cursing the people who have done him harm. He makes excuses for his actions and blames others, says he was forced to do what he did.
Slowly Filip begins to make sense of it all. The truth is horrific and more terrifying than he could have imagined.
It makes him tug at the ropes binding his arms and legs. Nothing happens this time either, however hard he tries. He is in significant pain from the wounds caused by the chafing.
Then his strength runs out and he gives up.
I haven’t done anything, he wants to yell to the lunatic behind him.
The man seems to have moved farther away, his voice is fainter now. Then it disappears completely, and Filip is alone again.
“I haven’t done anything,” he whispers into the emptiness.
108
Daniel has never seen Hanna so focused.
They have brought in the motor home that is often used as a mobile police station; today it is operating as the command center. Hanna is sitting at the far end so that she can continue talking to Mogren in peace and quiet. She is linked to a group that allows others to listen in, which means that Daniel is able to participate, but Mogren won’t hear any comments he might make.
The conversation between Hanna and the killer is volatile to say the least. One minute he is yelling at her; the next he is weeping with fury. It is as if he has no filter; he is so wound up that he can barely express himself coherently.
Daniel finds what Mogren is saying deeply unpleasant. The way he rationalizes what he has done.
A sane person doesn’t say that kind of thing.
How is Hanna going to get to a point where it is possible to reason with him, when he is so hysterical and unpredictable? Daniel has no idea.
But Hanna keeps her composure. She asks brief questions and listens to the responses, with measured pauses. She acknowledges whatever Mogren says with a well-judged reply or comment. Daniel notices how skillfully she uses Mogren’s own words; instead of simply saying that she understands or agrees, she repeats what he has just said. This is a way of providing affirmation, while at the same time building trust between them.
Daniel would never be able to do this. He is far too quick to judge; he doesn’t have the patience necessary to assure a violent killer that everything is going to be all right.
Not when he knows what the man has done.
The SWAT team has just arrived from Östersund.
If it weren’t for Filip, Daniel would give the order to storm the building. Their black bus is parked by the general muster point. A sniper in a snowsuit is in position in case it becomes possible to take a shot at Mogren, while the rest of the team are covering what is known as the “white side”—the main entrance. The remaining facades have also been given color-coded designations to avoid any confusion over which section of the hotel they are talking about.
In his earbuds Daniel hears Hanna mention Filip’s name.
“How’s Filip?” she ventures. “How’s he doing?”
Silence. Daniel breaks out in a sweat as they wait for an answer. Has Hanna gone too far? Was it too soon to ask the question?
Timing is key, saying the right thing at the right time. Otherwise the fragile relationship she has worked so hard to achieve could come crashing down. Daniel tries to make eye contact with her, but she is concentrating so hard that she doesn’t even notice.
“I don’t want to talk about Filip.”
“It sounds as if you’re very angry with him,” Hanna says.
“Too fucking right.”
She ignores his aggressive tone. “Can you tell me more about that? What has he done to you?”
Mogren’s breathing is ragged and shallow.
“You know perfectly well what his grandfather did to my mother!” he bellows. “I don’t want that rapist’s genes passed on!”
“Tell me what’s upsetting you so much.”
Mogren talks about blood vengeance going back through the generations.
He is insane.
If Daniel were on the other end of the phone, he would be telling Mogren what a sick bastard he is, having ruthlessly murdered two innocent women. Or he might sarcastically point out that Mogren carries the same DNA profile as his first victim.
“I can’t bear the thought of him getting away with it,” Mogren says more quietly.
He is talking about his father, Curt Wretlind, as if he were still alive.
As far as Daniel is concerned, this is yet another sign of his distorted perspective, but he can’t help feeling contempt when the man refuses to accept responsibility for his actions. There has to be a limit on the extent to which you can blame your own misfortune on your parents.
The last year’s therapy sessions have made Daniel realize that.
There is no such thing as original sin.
In the middle of this tragedy, he feels a fresh insight begin to form.
Each person creates their own life.
In the end we always have a choice.
“I understand how you might feel that way, but Curt has been dead for many years,” Hanna says gently.
“Someone has to pay for what he did! None of this is my fault.”
Once again Daniel feels sheer contempt, but Hanna’s tone is sympathetic.
“It’s perfectly natural for you to be so angry, given what happened. But have you thought about where you are directing your anger?”
Mogren continues to spew out fury and hatred.
Daniel checks the time; it is almost four o’clock. They still have no confirmation that Filip is alive.
He scribbles How’s Filip? on a Post-it and pushes it across to Hanna. There is already a pile of notes with different questions in front of her. It’s Daniel’s way of helping without speaking—he doesn’t want to distract her.
