Chapter 2 #2
He didn't think Hjalmar knew. He hadn't been there, and to this day, Frode had never mentioned it, but he would go nowhere near Nikolai fucking Nesterova.
* * * *
Nikolai snarled at the files spread out in front of him. There were three almost identical murders--or the reports on the most recent one hadn't come in yet, but from what he could tell, it matched the previous two.
Lieutenant Medlin frowned. "I didn't know."
"How could you not know?" Nikolai hadn't meant to raise his voice, but what the fuck? How could a lieutenant not know? Wasn't it his job to keep track of what they all were working on, give them their cases, organize, and report to the higher-ups? He believed it was what a lieutenant did.
"Bedell ran his own cases. He came to me if he needed me to contact someone or demand something he didn't have authority to demand, but for the most part, he worked on his own."
On his own? The first speech Medlin had given him when he came here was about how they worked in pairs, both to give all detectives someone to bounce ideas with, lessen the burden of the case, and to make sure no details were missed or forgotten.
Two brains, two pairs of eyes were better than one, et cetera.
"He worked alone?"
Medlin nodded. "One of our best detectives but not much of a team player."
Nikolai didn't care other than not liking to learn the rules that applied to him might not apply to others. He glanced at Isaac. He didn't dislike him, but if he'd been allowed to work alone, he'd have preferred to.
"Okay." Medlin clapped Nikolai's shoulder. "Not much we can do before the reports come in. Go home, and we'll start anew tomorrow."
Not much they could do? They had two previous murders they could focus on. They were still ongoing investigations.
"What about the previous two?" Isaac was frowning at a photo of the first victim sprawled on a rug soaked in blood. "We have to start somewhere."
Maybe it was good to have a partner.
"They'll still be here tomorrow. Their families have waited for half a year, one more day won't make a difference."
Nikolai did nothing to hide the distaste overtaking his face. "All the more reason to--"
"You do as you wish. I have a date, so I'm leaving. See you boys tomorrow." He left the small conference room, and Nikolai looked over at Isaac.
"What do you want to do?" He glanced at his watch.
He was to meet Hjalmar for a beer in about an hour, but he could reschedule.
A strange sense of belonging had settled over him when he'd heard his name called in the street, and he wanted to catch up, wanted to reconnect, to feel like maybe he wasn't alone in this world, but their plans could be changed.
"Read." Isaac gestured at the folders.
"What?"
"We have to read through this. There are reports, interviews, and so on. It will take hours."
True.
"Why wasn't the whole department briefed on this?
It's not normal for one single guy to work a serial killer case, is it?
" Isaac's eyes were hard, his lips thin, but before Nikolai could reply, he continued.
"I'll go home. I'll read through as much as my brain can take tonight.
" Isaac gathered the folders and handed them to Nikolai. "It's all in the database, right?"
"Should be."
He nodded. "Want to go grab something to eat before we split up?"
No, if they weren't going to stay here and work, he'd meet up with Hjalmar. "I promised an old friend I'd meet him for a beer in an hour."
"An old boyfriend?" Isaac grinned widely.
Nikolai had told the entire department he was gay on the first day.
He didn't care what people said about him, but if there was gonna be a problem, he wanted to know from the start.
Medlin hadn't cared, nor had Isaac, and the rest didn't matter.
No one had been rude to his face, though some made sure to keep their distance.
"Nope, he's as straight as they come. We went to school together.
" He was pretty sure Hjalmar was straight, unless he'd hidden a bisexuality.
He'd never gotten the vibe, though. Hjalmar had an easy way with girls back in school, and he'd been head over heels in love with Ashley Rankin, to the cheerleading squad's great disappointment. Nikolai had taken great pleasure in it.
Ashley had been a...to say mousy would be unkind, as would plain, but she didn't live up to the traditional beauty standards. Her dark hair was a tumbled mess; her nose had a prominent bump, and her mouth was too wide. And she was some sort of math whizz. Too fucking smart for her own good.
She had a great laugh, though. Deep and throaty, unlike the giggles that most often filled the corridors.
"Sounds great, man." Isaac grinned at him. "I guess I'll have to eat pizza on my own then."
Pizza would have been nice. Best of all would've been a home-cooked meal. He couldn't remember when he'd last had one.
They said goodbye, and Nikolai spent half an hour going through Bedell's notes from the first case before he grabbed his jacket and headed out of the building.
The April evening was chilly, chillier than it had been this past week. He hoped there wouldn't be frost. He was more than ready for light, warm nights.
He pushed through the door to Overtime. The sports bar had been around since Nikolai was a kid, and he spotted Hjalmar right away. Time had treated him kindly. The crow's feet hadn't been there when they'd hung out last, but he was fit and looked settled in his skin.
Nikolai waved as their eyes met and walked up to the bar to order a beer before going to the table Hjalmar was occupying. There was a one-arm hug, a slap on the shoulder, and the usual how-have-you-beens.
Nikolai looked around. "This hasn't changed much."
"Nah." Hjalmar followed his gaze. "The menu has been updated."
"Oh, it has?" He was hungry. He hadn't eaten much at lunch with the scent of blood and other things still clinging to his nostrils. "Have you eaten?"
"Nah, took Frode out for lunch, but have only had coffee since then. A burger?"
Frode. There was a strange swirl in his gut. "How is Frode these days?"
Hjalmar shrugged, and a look of worry filled his eyes. "He's doing okay. Mom and Dad moved to Norway six years ago after Dad retired, so it's only the two of us here now."
Right, his dad was Norwegian. He'd forgotten. "Do they like it?"
"Mom's thrilled."
Nikolai nodded and sipped his beer. "Have you gone to see them?"
He shook his head. "They came here over Christmas, but..." He shrugged. "Good luck getting Frode on a plane."
"He's afraid of flying?" Nikolai tried to conjure up an image of what Frode might look like now.
He and Hjalmar looked nothing alike. When Nikolai had looked at childhood photos of him and his brother, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.
They were spitting images of each other, but Hjalmar and Frode had different hair colors, different eye colors, and different physiques.
There were similarities too, but you didn't see them at first.
Hjalmar snorted. "He's afraid of people."
"Oh..." He remembered the cowering boy Frode had been, and guilt swamped him. Fuck.
"Though he was talking about getting a dog earlier today. It could be a good thing, but I guess then he'll never fly anywhere." A grin.
Nikolai would've loved a dog, but his life didn't have room for one. "Sounds great."
"Yeah. So what do you do nowadays?"