Page 23
Story: Snowman
TWENTY TWO
SNOWMAN
Morning light streamed through the curtains, pulling me out of sleep. I blinked, my eyes blurred at first, then saw her on my chest. Birdie. She was quiet, her head tucked against me like she'd found the safest place in the world. Her breath was steady, soft against my shirt. For the first time, she wasn't crying or looking over her shoulder like she was about to run. She looked… calm.
I stayed still, not wanting to break the moment. If I could wake up like this every day, maybe life wouldn't feel so heavy.
The buzzing of my phone on the nightstand snapped me out of it. I reached over carefully, fumbling to grab it without waking her. Erik's name lit up the screen.
I slipped out of bed, moving as quietly as I could, and gently closed the door behind me before answering.
"Where the hell are you?" Erik didn't even say hello. "Are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" I muttered, still groggy. Then it hit me. "Shit. No, I forgot."
"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned. "This is our shot to get them off our backs, and you're—"
"I can't come to the office today," I cut him off, smiling to myself. "I've got to take Bree to the mansion. She doesn't belong here in this dump."
"You're unbelievable," he said, though I could hear him laugh under his breath. "I miss the old you, you know. The one who had everything under control."
"That guy needed a break," I said simply.
"What's the plan, then?" he asked.
Erik never said it outright, but I could tell he was worried. About me. About everything.
"You'll see."
"Fine. Just… don't overdo it, all right?" He laughed again. "Have fun."
"Always." I hung up.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and headed upstairs to the old filing cabinet. The plan was simple, or at least it felt simple when Erik and I planned it out last night.
We wanted to write a letter from a witness, someone who'd supposedly seen Isak creeping around the victims. The Snowman . It was airtight, every detail thought through. And it had to be because this wasn't just about blame, it was about Bree.
Ever since I saw him with her, I wanted to tear him apart. Not just him, Joe, Laura, the whole fucking mess they dragged her into. Erik had kept me from going on a rampage, though. He said revenge without control wasn't revenge—it was suicide. So, we went with the plan instead.
Once Isak was out of the picture, I'd take Bree to the mansion. That place was safe, bought with the money Erik and I found after our father died. Buried under the floorboards in the stable, it was enough to keep us set for life.
Lena wanted nothing to do with it. She hated the money, hated the memories tied to it, but Erik and I weren't so sentimental. We used it to build something better, or at least something different. We buried the past along with our father, taking new names to make sure no one connected us.
The cult, the Family, it all died with him.
But the past doesn't let go so easily. I could still feel the weight of it, the scars my father left behind. The beatings. The madness in his eyes, when he talked about "the plan" like it was some divine prophecy. Most of the cult left when it fell apart, running as far away as they could. Some left the country, but only some stayed behind.
We all swore an oath: the Family was dead, and no one would ever speak of it again. If the day came, we'd help each other, no questions asked. But some things don't stay buried, no matter how deep you dig the hole.
Joe always tried to be like him, imitating him. But he was never clever enough to pull it off. And honestly, I was relieved. Someone like Joe with that kind of edge would've been dangerous. Easier to deal with him. Easily silenced, easily forgotten.
I pushed those thoughts away. What mattered now was beginning over. Bree deserved peace. Hell, so did I.
I pulled on my gloves and unfolded a clean sheet of paper. My hand hesitated, but soon I began to write, word after word, leaving nothing that could point back to me.
"On the last Friday of November, I was walking my dog when I saw something in the snow. Footprints, a man's, size 45. I'm sure because my boots are four sizes smaller. The tracks were fresh, made by someone in thick-soled boots.
Later, I saw him at the station, during questioning. When I realized he was the one asking the questions, I walked out. I didn't trust him.
Then I saw him again, watching the house of the new family in town. He wasn't hiding it, either, just staring at the girls inside. I followed him. He went into the woods, and I saw him building a snowman. Don't ask me why I didn't stay long enough to find out.
But one thing sticks in my head: he carries a white silk scarf in his pocket. Every time I see him, he's sniffing it like it's something dear to him. He has long hair and blue eyes. You know who he is. He's the new detective, and I think you've suspected him for a while now."
I signed nothing. No name, no trace. At the top, I wrote For the Chief of Police.
As I pushed the letter into a plastic bag, Lena walked in.
Perfect timing.
I handed out the bag to her, and she took it with a doubtful smile.
"Take this to the station," I said. "Use the blue door by the morgue on the left side. No cameras there. Drop it in the mailbox, but don't leave any fingerprints. Take the letter out of the bag first. Keep the bag. Got it?"
"Crystal," she said but paused at the door. "Any sign of Laura?"
"No," I said. "I don't think she made it through the night."
"Yeah," Lena said softly. "You've changed, you know. Since Bree. If she makes you better, maybe… maybe let this go. Live your life."
"I'm trying," I said.
A lump rose in my throat, surprising me. How long had it been since I hugged her? Years? Maybe longer. Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward and opened my arms. Lena froze for a second, then let me pull her into a quick, awkward hug.
"See?" I said, letting her go with a faint smile. "We can do normal."
She laughed nervously. "You're creeping me out."
"Fair enough," I said, raising my hands.
She laughed, shaking her head as she opened the door. The cold wind swept inside, biting at my face.
"Lena," I said before she stepped out. "Thank you. For everything. You've done more for me than you had to."
She looked back, her eyes softening. "You're welcome," she said.
Then she was gone.
The house was quiet again. I stared at the closed door, her words in my mind. Lena wasn't a good mother, she never had been. But she'd been the only one who ever tried. And in her way, she was enough.
It was just past noon when we got into the car. I told Bree earlier it was a surprise where I was taking her. She didn't know where I lived, but today, I wanted her to see it. To show her that what was mine could be hers too.
She sank into the seat, leaning back as if trying to get comfortable, her gaze fixed straight ahead. A quiet smile tugged at her lips, one of those soft ones that seemed to sneak up without her noticing.
"It's weird," she said after a moment, brushing her fingers lightly over her mouth. "Smiling this much. My face feels sore."
I laughed, turning the key. The engine rolled to life, and the car eased away from the farmhouse.
"It looks good on you," I said, looking at her.
She shot me a quick look, her smile twitching wider. My right hand stayed on the wheel, but my left drifted without thought, resting lightly on her thigh. The sun poured through the windshield, washing everything in a golden haze. She tilted her head, the light catching her hair in a way that made it gleam.
She leaned her head onto my shoulder, and I reached for the radio with my free hand, hoping for something calm to fill the silence. Instead, the sharp voice of a reporter stated from it.
"Joining us now is profiler Frida Dahl, who successfully apprehended the Snowman Killer this morning. Frida, can you tell us more about the case?"
Frida's voice came next. "A tip early this morning provided crucial evidence, confirming our suspicions about the suspect. With that, we were able to bring him into custody without resistance."
I reached over and twisted the volume down, but not fast enough to stop Bree from catching it. She shifted, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me.
"What's going on?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "Who's in custody?"
Her voice was steady, but I knew her well enough to hear the undercurrent of worry. I kept my eyes on the road, my grip tightening on the wheel. I wasn't ready to tell her. Not about Isak. Not yet.
"Nothing we need to think about right now," I said, keeping my tone light.
She studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "And where the hell are we going, then?"
"Home," I said simply.
Her shoulders rose in a small huff, but she let it go. Her face softened as she turned back to the window, the tension sliding away. I reached over, brushing her hair back from her neck. My fingers lingered for a moment, and she turned back to me with a smile.
She kissed the back of my hand. "Okay," she said. "You don't have to tell me."
The sunlight caught her hair again as she turned away, making her look almost unreal for a moment. Every second with her felt electric, like my blood was too hot like I was burning up from the inside out. Last night flickered in the back of my mind, her laugh, her touch, the way she'd looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
The road stretched out endlessly. Twenty minutes of driving felt like hours, but I spotted my house in the distance. It should have brought relief, but it only stoked the fire. I couldn't wait.
I turned the wheel hard, veering onto a side road without thinking twice. The car turned as gravel crunched beneath the tires, and I slammed the brakes, the sudden stop throwing us forward slightly. The road here was quiet, secluded, and forgotten by most, it was perfect.
"What are you doing?" Bree's voice broke the silence.
I didn't answer.
Words felt useless when all I could think about was her. I reached for her face, cupping her cheeks, and brought her lips to mine. The kiss was deep, searching, the taste of her like something I needed to survive. She froze for a second, startled, before melting into me, her arms wrapping around my neck.
"You're crazy," she whispered when we finally broke apart.
"Maybe," I murmured, leaning back and pushing my seat as far as it would go. My heart was pounding, and I grabbed her hand, guiding it to rest against the hardness between my legs.
Her eyes widened slightly, and she raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in a smirk. "What now?"
"You know what , now."
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she slid towards me, the soft brush of her knees against mine sending sparks up my spine. Her gaze never wavered from mine as she positioned herself above me.
My hands traced the curve of her hips, fingers lightly skimming over the fabric of her black pants. I couldn't resist sliding my hands beneath the waistband, my fingertips meeting the warmth of her skin on mine. Her breath hitched in response. I pulled the fabric, ripping through it.
The sound causes her to gasp in surprise."Seriously?"
"Seriously," I confirmed, pulling her closer and steadying my hands on her hips once more. Our lips met again in a slower kiss this time, every inch between us was a warm sign, making reality itself seem distant in comparison to us.
A giggle escaped from her as she drew closer still while I undid my pants and stood briefly to slide them down; my cock stood still in the air beneath her.
As I settled back down into the seat once more and took hold of myself, I thrust myself along her inner flesh, her moans filled the space around us until finally, she let herself fully onto me, her head falling back in pleasure.
"That's right, Bree, take it all," I encouraged as she moved against me.
My hands locked her hips and guided her movements; the pace quickened to a point where I was losing control. But it wasn't just about me, I wanted her to feel the same intensity that she brought me.
I shifted our position so that Bree was leaning against the steering wheel, my hand slipping under her shirt to gently knead at her breasts while my other hand traced circles over her clitoris. Her palm hit the window beside her as she teetered on the edge, but I withdrew my touch just in time, driving into her with such force that the honking of the horn echoed our shared pace.
"That's right, Bree, let everyone know you're mine," I chuckled as steam began to fog up the windows. The cold outside was no match for the heat inside. We didn't make love, it was raw and primal sex. She was an addiction I would go to hell for, a temptation I craved completely.
Resuming my attention on her clitoris once more, I sent waves coursing through her until she began to shake from their intensity. She pressed back against me again and moved as her desperate cries filled the car.
"Fuck, fuck," she moaned out breathlessly.
Now it was my turn to take control. Lifting myself to meet each thrust without leaving anything untouched, the tightness of her inner flesh only fueled me further. I grabbed hold of Bree and pulled her closer as I thrust harder into her.
Sweat broke out across my forehead as gritted teeth held back any sounds threatening to escape. I wanted her to reach another brink. When her screams filled the car again and she clung onto the seat belt for support, I gave into my end, filling her.
Her body collapsed onto mine and we stayed like that, unwilling to move just yet. But the desire to have her all to myself again was too strong to resist.
I pulled the seat close enough to reach the pedals and started up the car.
As she laid on me, I realized it wasn't the best circumstance, but I started driving while my cock was still within her. Feeling every inch inside. The ride stretched into an endless ten minutes until we arrived outside the mansion.
"We're home," I whispered.