Sun Storm by Asa Larsson

Author:Asa Larsson [Larsson, Asa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2006-12-27T05:00:00+00:00

Kristina Strandgård opens the door.

“We’ve come to collect Sara,” says Rebecka. “We’re going to a party and we’re already forty minutes late.”

Fear flashes through Kristina’s eyes. She glances over her shoulder into the house, but doesn’t move to let them in. Rebecka can hear that they have guests.

“But we agreed that Sara was coming to us this weekend,” says Kristina, trying to catch Sanna’s eye.

Sanna looks obstinately at the ground.

“As I understand it, you didn’t agree anything of the sort,” says Rebecka tersely.

“Just a minute,” says Kristina, biting her lip nervously.

She disappears into the lounge, and after a while Olof Strandgård appears in the doorway. He is not smiling. His eyes bore into Rebecka first. Then he turns to his daughter.

“What’s this nonsense?” he growls. “I thought we had an agreement, Sanna. It doesn’t do Sara any good being dragged from pillar to post. I find it very disappointing that you keep making her pay the price for your whims and fancies.”

Sanna hunches her shoulders, but still stares stubbornly at the ground. Snow is falling onto her hair, forming a helmet of ice around her head.

“Are you going to answer when you’re spoken to, or can’t you even manage to show me that much respect?” says Olof in a tightly controlled voice.

He’s afraid of causing a scene when they’ve got guests, thinks Rebecka.

Her heart is pounding, but still she takes a step forward. Her voice is shaking as she stands up to Olof.

“We’re not here for a discussion,” she says. “Now, either you fetch Sara, or I will go straight to the police with your daughter and report you for abduction. I swear on the Bible, I’ll do it. And before I do it, I’ll force my way into your living room and play hell. Sara is Sanna’s daughter, and she wants her. Your choice. You can fetch her, or the police will.”

Kristina Strandgård peers anxiously over her husband’s shoulder.

Olof Strandgård smiles scornfully at Rebecka.

“Sanna,” he says to his daughter in a commanding voice, without taking his eyes off Rebecka. “Sanna.”

Sanna looks down at the ground. Almost imperceptibly she shakes her head.

And then it happens. Olof’s mood changes abruptly. His expression becomes concerned and hurt.

“Come in,” he says, backing into the hall.

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