Chapter 5
Nikolai stared at the spot where Frode had been standing. It had been many years since he'd seen him, but he'd recognize him anywhere.
"Frode Bakke is no fucking psychic."
Medlin narrowed his eyes. "He is."
"The hell he is! I grew up with him." Sort of.
"If he's telling you he's a psychic, he's playing you.
I hope you haven't paid him for his services.
" He snorted. This was ridiculous and proved what he'd always known to be true about psychics--frauds, the lot of them.
Okay, maybe not all of them. He'd seen one who could read minds, and there was no way it could've been faked since she'd demonstrated by reading his.
But Frode Bakke was no psychic.
Medlin watched him with a look of disapproval. "He walked out, so I don't think you have to worry."
Nikolai huffed. He didn't care. Why would he care?
Isaac came back into the office. Nikolai looked behind him before he could stop himself. He'd only seen Frode for a second or two, and he wanted to have a better look. Or not.
Hjalmar had to know what he was up to. It was a scam. Illegal. How dared Frode scam the police when his brother worked in law enforcement?
"What did you do?" Isaac gave him an unimpressed look.
"What?"
"Sunny left. He said he wouldn't work with Nesterova. So what did you do?"
"Nothing. How was I to know Frode Bakke was the Sun Maiden? If you had used his real name, I could've told you not to bother. He's not a psychic. He's been playing you."
Isaac looked at Medlin, confusion written all over his face. "What do we do now?"
Silence, then Isaac glared at Nikolai.
Medlin sighed. "I can't force him to come back. He doesn't work for me." Hard eyes turned to Nikolai. "I guess you'll have to go back and follow all the promising leads you've managed to unearth."
Nikolai looked between Isaac and Medlin.
They didn't have any leads. He'd been annoyed when he realized Isaac had gone behind his back and asked Medlin to call the Sun Maiden before Nikolai had agreed to it.
He hadn't known he was coming until a few minutes before he arrived.
He held in a wince. Frode must've heard him shout at Medlin.
Isaac whirled around and stomped out of the office.
Fuck. Nikolai ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe something will come from the forensic team." He glanced at Medlin.
"They've already processed everything there is to process in the first two cases, and you have nothing. No prints, no murder weapon, no witnesses, no connection--"
"The rugs."
"Which Elmore wanted the Maiden to have a look at, but you blew it."
"He's not a psychic, and even if he was, we can't use anything he says in court."
Medlin stared at him for a little too long. "No, but he could've touched the rugs and seen if the same person had touched all three of them. I'd say it would've given you something to investigate. A link. A connection. A possible suspect."
Nikolai said nothing. Frode wasn't a psychic.
He walked out of the office without another word and headed for the corner room. When he entered, Isaac was pacing in front of the whiteboard. He didn't look at Nikolai.
"He's not a psychic."
Isaac stilled and stared at him. "I've worked with him on a few occasions. He's a psychic."
He couldn't be.
"So the rugs--"
Isaac snarled at him, which was new. He was the smiling, easy-going part of their duo. "We're getting nowhere with the rugs! It's been days, and we have nothing."
"We'll find something."
Isaac waved his hand dramatically. "Sure. Get to it."
Nikolai leaned over the table and lined up the photos of the rugs. They were all about the same size, but they weren't identical. "Are they new?"
Isaac frowned at him. "Yes. All three ended up with a new rug close to their death."
"I know, I meant were they manufactured recently, bought in a store, or did they walk into a secondhand place and buy them?"
"You want us to look at all the local thrift stores?"
Want might not be the right word, but it was a turn they hadn't yet taken.
Isaac's gaze moved from Nikolai to something behind him, then Hjalmar poked his head in through the door. "Hi."
Nikolai nodded in greeting.
"Where is Frode? I've checked all the rooms."
Isaac grimaced. "He...eh...left."
Hjalmar straightened. "Already? How is he? Did he take a cab? The little fucker, I told him I'd drive him home."
"Eh..." Isaac glared at Nikolai before focusing on Hjalmar again. "He didn't do a reading."
Some tension left Hjalmar. "Oh, okay." He reached for his phone in his pocket, checking the screen with a scowl. Fuck, had Frode written something?
"He's not a psychic."
Hjalmar looked away from the screen to Nikolai. "Who?"
"Frode. He's not a psychic."
Hjalmar glanced at Isaac, who sighed loudly, then he focused on Nikolai again. "Yeah, he is. He reads things."
"I grew up with you two. I think I'd have known if he was a psychic."
"Is this why he hates you? I never could figure it out."
"What?" Was it hot in here? It was hot, right? He tugged a little at his shirt.
"He never wants to hang out if you're gonna be there. He rarely wants to hang out at all, but if you're there, it's a hundred percent no."
"I didn't know he claimed to be a psychic until today."
Hjalmar shook his head. "He is a psychic."
"He said he'd mostly read bullet cases lately. Your doing, huh?" Isaac grinned at Hjalmar.
Hjalmar shrugged.
"The shooting down on Second Street? I heard you were all over that."
Hjalmar nodded. "Yeah. They're moving up in the food chain."
Isaac whistled. "I'd say let them take each other out, but there are always some poor innocent fucker getting caught in the crossfire."
Nikolai wanted to snarl at them. Why were they talking about some drug case?
"I better go find Frode, though I suspect he's on his way home again. Can't say I'm sorry. I hate it when you dump murders on him." Hjalmar grinned at Isaac.
"Yeah, drug lords are so much better, right? Those casings had nothing to do with death."
Hjalmar grimaced. "It's different."
Isaac laughed. "Yeah? How?"
"Idiots having a shoot-out compared to some sick fucker sitting in his basement and jerking off to the idea of killing someone."
Isaac waved a finger at him. "Which is why we need to catch the fucker."
Nikolai wanted to scream. They were both talking as if this were normal. As if Frode was a psychic who helped them solve their cases when Nikolai was convinced he was a fraud.
"You can't be serious." He hadn't meant to speak, but the words spilled out of him anyway.
Both Hjalmar and Isaac turned to him.
"About what?" Hjalmar looked confused.
"You're joking around when your brother is running some fucking scam."
Anger crept into Hjalmar's eyes. "He's not.
He was in his late teens when the powers started to manifest, then they sort of exploded in his early twenties and have been stable ever since.
It's how it is for most psychics. Some powers manifest at a younger age, but most won't until the tail end of puberty, and thank fuck.
It was hard enough as it was. I can't imagine how it would've been if he'd been twelve instead of twenty. "
Nikolai had been eighteen when he started college and no longer saw Frode every day.
He would've been fourteen then. But he'd seen him after.
He and Hjalmar had been friends through college.
He had seen Frode at sixteen, at seventeen, at eighteen.
He believed he'd seen him when he'd been around twenty too. Maybe.
Though Frode did have a knack for avoiding him. He would glimpse him somewhere, and then he'd be gone.
"How come you never told me if that was the case?"
Hjalmar studied him, something close to confusion taking form in his eyes.
"He dealt with it on his own. Mostly. He moved away for college, remember?
I never learned how much it affected him until...
There were a few incidents, but I never understood about the day-to-day complications until he came back home. "
Nikolai did remember Frode moving away. Hjalmar had been worried sick until Frode had started dating someone. "Is he still with the boyfriend?"
"Chance or Declan?" Judging by the growl accompanying Declan's name, Nikolai didn't think he'd been the one Hjalmar had approved of.
"Eh...don't remember his name." He didn't think Hjalmar had told him his name because he was pretty sure he would've remembered.
"Nah, he's been single for years."
"Years?"
"Yeah, it's been like five or six years since Declan the fucker."
Nikolai chuckled. "So Chance was the good one then."
"Yeah, he was. Don't know why it didn't work out. I liked him, still do. He lives here, and I run into him now and then. They were good together. Solid guy who snarled at anyone who so much as looked at Frode wrong."
"Ah, a guard dog." Nikolai didn't like the sort. They were most often jealous bastards who tried to control you.
"Nah, more like he worried about Frode, looked out for him, and since I couldn't be there to do it, I approved."
Isaac cleared his throat. "You think he'd agree to come back? Frode, I mean. For the case. Not for a boyfriend."
Nikolai jumped at Isaac's voice. He'd forgotten he was there.
Hjalmar shrugged. "I doubt it. You made him leave his home. He doesn't like that." Then he grinned. "I better go find him."
"I'll come with you." Nikolai jumped to his feet.
Hjalmar gave him a funny look. "He's most likely in a cab on his way home." Then he looked at his phone again. "Or grabbing lunch somewhere."
Nikolai hoped for the latter.
* * * *
Frode was walking, rapidly. His gloved hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Nikolai fucking Nesterova. He turned down one alley, stomping loudly, then turned a corner into the older parts of town. He wasn't entirely sure of where he was, but it didn't matter.
When his phone rang, he ignored it.
Fuckers.
Mother fucking fuckers.