her when the bus stopped, as
they came face to face while they both attempted to exit their
seats at the same time. And on the ferry, they ended up sharing a
table at the restaurant.
Yes, there was a restaurant. There were
several. By then it was lunchtime, and Annika’s stomach was
complaining loudly about missing breakfast. She bought herself a
prawn sandwich and found a table by the window, where she could
look out and see the Baltic Sea pass by as the ferry—which looked
and felt more like a cruise ship; or at least like she imagined a
cruise ship might look and feel—cut across the smooth surface of
the water. And that’s what she was doing when a voice said, “May I
join you?”
Annika looked up and met a pair of hazel
eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, above a tentative smile.
For a second, a mouthful of prawns
threatened to go down the wrong way. It was the second time in two
days a man had sought out her company, unbidden. Definitely a new
record.
She swallowed and nodded. “Please.”
He put his tray, with his own sandwich—roast
beef—on the table. “I’m Curt.”
Annika cleared her throat. “Annika
Holst.”
“American. Good. I thought you were.” He
grinned at her across the table.
“My father was Swedish.”
“My mother was, too.” He moved his attention
down to the sandwich, head tilted to one side. He had light brown
hair, a bit too long, and a hank of it fell across his forehead and
into his eyes.
“I’d use a knife and fork,” Annika said,
having done that with her own sandwich.
Curt tossed his head to flick the hair out
of his eyes and pushed his sleeves back. “I guess I’d better. Not
the kind of sandwich you can pick up.”
Not at all. The Scandinavians ate their
sandwiches open-faced, and mounded with prawns—or in Curt’s case,
roast beef. But they were delicious. Annika went back to hers, and
let Curt attack his own. Once he’d reduced it to crumbs, he leaned
back on his chair and smiled at her again. “How about you let me
take you to dinner in Visby tonight?”
She blinked. “You just finished lunch.”
“I believe in planning ahead,” Curt said.
“And I figure I’d better ask now, before someone else beats me to
it.”
Nobody else was likely to beat him to it,
but it might be nice to have something to look forward to. And if
she knew someone else in Visby, she might not feel so alone once
she got there.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Curt said and brushed the
hair out of his face.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Fredrik said, as Nick focused on unclenching
his fists before his nails could dig holes in his palms. “She
wasn’t kidnapped. And she didn’t check out of her room. She’s
probably just out shopping or something.”
Maybe. But when Nick had come to Fredrik’s
office, only to learn that Annika apparently had walked out of the
hotel this morning, and now no one knew where she was, he’d gone a
little ballistic. “I should have stayed last night.”
“We talked about this,” Fredrik said,
leaning back in his desk chair and fixing Nick with a steely look.
“You couldn’t have spent the night sleeping across her doorway. She
would have noticed you. And she didn’t leave through the front
door, so even if you’d spent the night in a chair in the lobby, you
wouldn’t have seen her go.”
No, he wouldn’t. She’d walked out through
the back door and across the loading dock just after eleven this
morning. A check of the hotel security cameras had proved it.
“Best we can figure,” Fredrik said, “is that
she went shopping. She was carrying her purse and a shopping bag.
Maybe she’s gone back to return something she bought
yesterday.”
She’d better not be returning the blue
dress. Only an idiot would return something that made her look so
good.
Nick cleared the growl from his voice. “Has
anyone checked with the store to see if she’s been there?”
“I didn’t think it was important,”
they came face to face while they both attempted to exit their
seats at the same time. And on the ferry, they ended up sharing a
table at the restaurant.
Yes, there was a restaurant. There were
several. By then it was lunchtime, and Annika’s stomach was
complaining loudly about missing breakfast. She bought herself a
prawn sandwich and found a table by the window, where she could
look out and see the Baltic Sea pass by as the ferry—which looked
and felt more like a cruise ship; or at least like she imagined a
cruise ship might look and feel—cut across the smooth surface of
the water. And that’s what she was doing when a voice said, “May I
join you?”
Annika looked up and met a pair of hazel
eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, above a tentative smile.
For a second, a mouthful of prawns
threatened to go down the wrong way. It was the second time in two
days a man had sought out her company, unbidden. Definitely a new
record.
She swallowed and nodded. “Please.”
He put his tray, with his own sandwich—roast
beef—on the table. “I’m Curt.”
Annika cleared her throat. “Annika
Holst.”
“American. Good. I thought you were.” He
grinned at her across the table.
“My father was Swedish.”
“My mother was, too.” He moved his attention
down to the sandwich, head tilted to one side. He had light brown
hair, a bit too long, and a hank of it fell across his forehead and
into his eyes.
“I’d use a knife and fork,” Annika said,
having done that with her own sandwich.
Curt tossed his head to flick the hair out
of his eyes and pushed his sleeves back. “I guess I’d better. Not
the kind of sandwich you can pick up.”
Not at all. The Scandinavians ate their
sandwiches open-faced, and mounded with prawns—or in Curt’s case,
roast beef. But they were delicious. Annika went back to hers, and
let Curt attack his own. Once he’d reduced it to crumbs, he leaned
back on his chair and smiled at her again. “How about you let me
take you to dinner in Visby tonight?”
She blinked. “You just finished lunch.”
“I believe in planning ahead,” Curt said.
“And I figure I’d better ask now, before someone else beats me to
it.”
Nobody else was likely to beat him to it,
but it might be nice to have something to look forward to. And if
she knew someone else in Visby, she might not feel so alone once
she got there.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Curt said and brushed the
hair out of his face.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Fredrik said, as Nick focused on unclenching
his fists before his nails could dig holes in his palms. “She
wasn’t kidnapped. And she didn’t check out of her room. She’s
probably just out shopping or something.”
Maybe. But when Nick had come to Fredrik’s
office, only to learn that Annika apparently had walked out of the
hotel this morning, and now no one knew where she was, he’d gone a
little ballistic. “I should have stayed last night.”
“We talked about this,” Fredrik said,
leaning back in his desk chair and fixing Nick with a steely look.
“You couldn’t have spent the night sleeping across her doorway. She
would have noticed you. And she didn’t leave through the front
door, so even if you’d spent the night in a chair in the lobby, you
wouldn’t have seen her go.”
No, he wouldn’t. She’d walked out through
the back door and across the loading dock just after eleven this
morning. A check of the hotel security cameras had proved it.
“Best we can figure,” Fredrik said, “is that
she went shopping. She was carrying her purse and a shopping bag.
Maybe she’s gone back to return something she bought
yesterday.”
She’d better not be returning the blue
dress. Only an idiot would return something that made her look so
good.
Nick cleared the growl from his voice. “Has
anyone checked with the store to see if she’s been there?”
“I didn’t think it was important,”
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