The landscape of Växjö municipality with all the villages and the farms included, was a pristine winter wonderland, the trees and rooftops blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The car heater provided a welcome respite from the biting cold outside, where temperatures had plummeted overnight. Polisinspektör Mikael Hansson and his rookie companion, Polisassistent Yezda Rahimi, drove through the picturesque villages, their police cruiser moving steadily along the snow-covered roads. Their patrol was intended to be routine, checking in on the residents and ensuring everything was in order, show police headquarters face and make people feel secure and looked after.
Mikael, an experience detective with a no-nonsense demeanour, had seen it all in his years on the force. Next to him, Yezda, relatively new but highly capable, took her role seriously. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, and her keen sense to protect had already earned her Mikael’s respect. Her background in social work before joining the police force gave her a unique perspective, often allowing her to connect with people on a deeper level.
The landscape outside was serene, with smoke curling up from chimneys and the occasional figure bundled up against the cold, another shovelling snow or walking a dog trudged through the pristine white. A man wrestled a snowblower, its roar a momentary disruption in the hushed scene. It was a scene of perfect tranquillity, sharply contrasting with the call that was about to shatter their routine.
Yezda watched it all unfold from the passenger seat, a bittersweet pang settling in her chest. This small town, nestled amidst frosted pines, held a charm she hadn’t anticipated. Yet, the call, the reason for their arrival, was a storm brewing beneath the surface.
As they drove through the quiet streets, Mikael glanced over at Yezda. “How are you finding the job so far?” he asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.
She turned to him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s… different,” she admitted, her breath clouding the window for a fleeting moment. “The pace, the quiet. It takes some getting used to.”
Mikael chuckled, a sound as warm as the mug of coffee he clutched between his gloved hands. “Coming from the city that never sleeps, huh? Takes a while to adjust to the lullaby of snowdrifts.”
Yezda couldn’t help but grin. “Exactly. But,” she added, a newfound warmth radiating in her voice, “there’s a strange beauty to it, isn’t there?”
Yezda smiled again as she looked out at the peaceful scenery. “It’s challenging, but rewarding. I feel like I’m doing something, I contribute even if it’s in small ways.”
Mikael nodded approvingly. “That’s the right attitude. Every little bit helps, especially in a community like this.”
Their radio crackled to life, interrupting the calm. The dispatcher’s voice came through, urgent and tense. “All units, we have a report of a disturbance at the old Sjöberg residence on the outskirts of Åryd. Somebody reported hearing loud noises, shouts for help and broken glass. Anybody’s close?”
Mikael’s eyes narrowed and he exchanged a quick glance with Yezda. The Sjöberg residence had been abandoned for years, its once-grand halls now standing silent and foreboding. It was a place that local children dared each other to approach on dark nights, but no one had lived there since the Sjöberg family had mysteriously disappeared a decade ago.
“Looks like our quiet morning just got interesting,” Mikael muttered, flicking on the siren and lights. The peaceful winter scene outside seemed to blur as they accelerated, the cruiser’s tires crunching through the fresh snow.
After a few kilometres he added, “I know the damn place.”
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Thanos' Pulp Fiction 