Название: Buried Angels
Автор: Camilla Lackberg
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
isbn: 9780007419609
isbn:
Leon carefully set the photo down and picked up the next one. Paris to Dakar. Motorcycle division, of course. It still bothered him that he hadn’t won. Instead he’d had to settle for placing among the top ten. He realized this was an amazing accomplishment, but for him first place was the only thing that counted. It had always been like that. He wanted to stand on the first-place podium, no matter what the endeavour. He ran his thumb over the glass covering the framed photo, holding back a smile. If he smiled, one side of his face tugged unpleasantly, and he hated that feeling.
Ia had been so scared. One of the competitors had been killed at the very start of the race, and she had pleaded with him to pull out. But the accident merely increased his motivation. It was the sense of danger that drove him, the realization that his life could be taken from him at any moment. Danger made him love what was good in life all the more intensely. The champagne tasted better, the women seemed more beautiful, the silk sheets felt smoother against his skin. His wealth was more valuable if he stood to lose it. Ia, on the other hand, was afraid of losing everything. She loathed the way he laughed at death and gambled for high stakes at the casinos in Monaco, Saint-Tropez, and Cannes. She didn’t understand the rush he felt whenever he lost big, only to win it all back the following night. On those nights she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned in bed while he peacefully smoked a cigar out on the balcony.
In his heart he had actually enjoyed her distress. He knew that she loved the life he could offer her. She not only loved it, she needed and demanded it. That was what made it so exciting to see her expression whenever the roulette ball landed in the wrong slot. He would watch her bite her cheek, trying not to scream out loud whenever he bet everything on red and it came up black.
Leon heard the sound of a key in the lock. Gently he set the photo back on the chest of drawers. The man on the motorcycle gave him a big smile.
It was a marvellous day to wake up to, and Dagmar stretched her limbs like a cat. Now everything was going to be different. Finally she’d met someone who would silence all the talk and make the laughter stick in the throats of all those gossiping women. The Angelmaker’s daughter and the hero pilot – that would certainly give them something else to chatter about. But it would no longer have any effect on her, because they would be going off together. She didn’t know where, but that didn’t really matter.
Last night he had caressed her as no one had ever done before. He had whispered so many words in her ears, words that she couldn’t understand, but in her heart she knew they were promises about their shared future. His passionate gasps had made desire spread through her whole body, and she had given him everything she possessed.
Dagmar slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. Naked, she went over to the window and opened it wide. Outside the birds were chirping, and the sun had just come up. She wondered where Hermann was. Had he gone to fetch breakfast for them?
In the bathroom she carefully performed her morning ablutions. She would have preferred to keep the scent of him on her body, but at the same time she wanted to be as fragrant as the most beautiful rose when he returned. And she would soon smell his scent again. She had a whole lifetime to breathe in his scent.
When she was finished, she lay back down on the bed to wait, but he was taking his time and she felt her impatience grow. The sun had climbed higher in the sky, and the chirping of the birds was starting to seem annoyingly loud. Where had Hermann gone? Didn’t he know that she was waiting for him?
Finally she got up, put on her clothes, and left the room, holding her head high. Why should she care if anyone saw her? It would soon be clear what Hermann’s intentions were.
The house was very quiet. Everyone was in bed, sleeping it off, and no doubt they wouldn’t be up for a few more hours. The guests didn’t usually appear until eleven. But there were sounds coming from the kitchen. The staff were up early, preparing breakfast. The party-goers always had a ravenous appetite when they finally awoke, so the eggs had to be boiled and ready, the coffee made. She peeked into the kitchen. No, Hermann wasn’t there. One of the cooks saw her and frowned, but Dagmar tossed her head and pulled the door closed.
After searching the house, she headed towards the dock. Could he be having a morning dip? Hermann was so athletic. He’d probably gone down to have an invigorating swim.
She walked faster and then began to run down to the shore. Her feet seemed to fly over the grass, and when she reached the dock, she smiled as she gazed out over the water. But her expression soon turned solemn. He wasn’t there. She took one more look around, but Hermann was not in the water, and there were no clothes tossed on the dock. One of the boys who worked for the doctor and his wife came sauntering towards her.
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