Mila withdrew more and more into herself dulled by the weight of her sorrow. She spent hours in Sara’s room, surrounded by her daughter’s belongings, as if hoping to find some trace of her spirit lingering there. The room was a sanctuary of memories—posters of pop idols, stuffed animals, a bookshelf filled with well-worn novels. Mila would sit on Sara’s bed, running her fingers over the comforter, and imagine her daughter coming home from school, full of stories and laughter. The silence now was deafening, filled only with the echoes of what once was.
In the meantime downtown Växjö, Polisinspektör Mikael Hansson had to deal with the inappropriate behaviour of Ms Linda Svensson in a déjà vu to her conversation with Mila Jonsson and Mikael was familiar with Ms Linda Svensson’s rudeness from the past.
Mikael Hansson pinched the bridge of his nose, the deep lines around his eyes etching themselves a bit deeper. Linda Svensson, the bane of his existence, stood in his doorway, a twisted parody of concern plastered across her heavily made-up face. Her blonde hair, an unnatural shade that seemed to defy the laws of physics, swayed with each exaggerated movement.
"Mikael," she chirped, her voice gratingly high. "Any updates on that missing schoolgirl? Sarah Jonsson, wasn't it? Absolutely heartbreaking."
Mikael resisted the urge to slam the door in her face. "We're working on it, Linda."
"Working on it?" she scoffed, pushing past him into the office. "It's been missing for three days now! Don't you think it's time to stop 'working on it' and actually find her?"
He gritted his teeth. "We're following leads, Ms Svensson. This isn't a game."
"Oh, believe me, Inspector," she drawled, perching precariously on the corner of his desk, a provocative pose that felt utterly out of place in a missing person's case. "With every passing hour, the game gets more deadly, wouldn't you say? Every hour another headline screams 'Police Incompetence Leads to Missing Teen.' Doesn't that light a fire under you?"
"Look," Mikael said, forcing a calm he didn't entirely feel, "sensationalizing a missing person's case doesn't help. It just adds pressure, and frankly, makes the families involved miserable."
A flicker of something akin to surprise crossed Linda's face. It was quickly replaced by a dismissive snort. "Families? We're talking ratings, Inspector. People want answers, and they want them now. They want a scapegoat, someone to blame. And right now, that someone looks an awful lot like the stoic, yet strangely ineffective, police force."
Mikael leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "This isn't about ratings, Ms. Svensson. It's about a missing girl and a family in turmoil. You might not care about that, but we do. We're doing everything we can."
"Everything we can?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Is 'everything we can' just sitting around in this stuffy office? No flashing lights, no dramatic raids? Where's the action, Inspector?"
"Action doesn't always equate to results, Ms Svensson. Sometimes," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl, "the most effective work is quiet, meticulous. Sometimes, it's about protecting the family from the vultures circling overhead, looking for a story."
His gaze fixed on her, unwavering. Linda shifted uncomfortably under his stare, the forced smile faltering for a brief moment.
"We understand you want a story, Ms Svensson," he continued, "but this isn't some glamorous mystery for your tabloid. It's real life. A real girl is missing, and her family is devastated. Focus on that instead of trying to turn a tragedy into entertainment."
Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment. Linda straightened, her smile returning, though it lacked its usual confidence.
"Well, when you do have an update," she said, her voice clipped, "you know where to find me. But remember, Inspector, the public is waiting."
With that, she swept out of the office, the click of her heels echoing down the hallway. Mikael sighed, the tension slowly draining from his body. Dealing with Linda Svensson was always an exercise in frustration, but somehow, he'd managed to hold his ground.
He turned back to the reports on his desk, a renewed sense of purpose fuelling his movements. He wouldn't let Linda's theatrics distract him. Sarah Jonsson was missing, and he, along with his team, would do everything they could to bring her home. Their work wouldn't be televised, wouldn't generate a flurry of online articles, but it would be the work that mattered. Sometimes, quiet competence was the most effective weapon in this line of work. He glanced at the picture of Sarah on his desk, her smile warm and genuine. He wouldn't let her down.
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