The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

My God, it must be from the bathroom! Had she really forgotten to turn off the shower again? She
hadn’t been on the first floor since she came home; she had got to grips with cooking straight away,
so it must have been running since this morning. And it would have to happen now, in the midst of
all this.
She went into the hall, dashed up the stairs and headed for the bathroom. She couldn’t hear the
shower. She opened the door. Dry floor. No water running. She closed the bathroom door and stood
outside for a couple of seconds. Glanced at the adjacent bedroom door. Slowly walked over. Rested
her hand on the handle. Hesitated. Listened again for cars. Then she opened the door. She looked
inside the room. She wanted to scream. But instinctively she knew that she mustn’t, she had to be
quiet. Perfectly quiet.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Harry screamed and banged a fist onto the dashboard making it quiver. ‘What’s
going on?’
The traffic had ground to a halt in front of the tunnel. They had been there now for two long
minutes.
The reason came over the police radio that second. ‘There’s been a collision on Ring 3 by the exit
of the westbound tunnel at Tåsen. No injuries. Breakdown truck’s on its way.’
On a sudden impulse Harry snatched the microphone. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘We know it’s two cars, both fitted with summer tyres,’ the nasal radio voice drawled laconically.
‘November snow always brings chaos,’ the officer at the back said.
Harry didn’t answer, just drummed his fingers on the dashboard. He weighed up the alternatives.
There was a barricade of cars in front of and behind them; all the blue lights and sirens in the world
could not get them through. He could jump out and run to the end of the tunnel, radio a patrol car to
meet him there, but it was close on two kilometres.
It was quiet in the car now; all that could be heard was the low hum of idling car engines. The van
in front of them nudged forward a metre and the police driver followed. Didn’t brake until he was
almost on its rear bumper, as if afraid anything but aggressive driving would cause the inspector to
explode again. The sudden braking made the two metal bikini-clad women jingle cheerfully in the
silence that followed.
Harry thought about Jonas again. Why, though? What had made him think about Jonas when he was
talking to Mathias on the phone? There was something about the sound. In the background.
Harry studied the two dancers under the mirror. And everything clicked into place.
He knew why he had thought about Jonas. He knew what the sound had been. And he knew there
wasn’t a second to lose. Or – he tried to repress the thought – there was no need to hurry any more.
It was already too late.
Oleg hurried through the dark cellar corridor without looking left or right, knowing that the salt
deposits on the brick walls were in the shape of white ghosts. He tried to concentrate on what he
was going to do, tried not to think about anything else, not to let the wrong thoughts enter his mind.
That was what Harry had said. It was possible to conquer the only monsters that existed, those
inside your head. But you had to work at it. You had to confront them and fight with them as often