Chapter 10
The next day, Nikolai was back to studying the photos of the rugs. Was there any way to know if one of them hadn't been used much? If they could guarantee it, then maybe Frode could do a reading or whatever they'd call it.
"What are you thinking?" Isaac entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee.
"If there is any way we can tell if one of the rugs haven't been exposed to people."
Isaac nodded. "How is he?"
Nikolai filled his lungs, then let the air out slowly. "He woke up a little before nine yesterday evening, threw up, had a headache, ate some, then he demanded I leave because he was taking a shower."
"So no lasting damage?"
"Fuck, I hope not." He ran a hand through his hair. "Hjalmar and I have been friends for a long time, but he never told me anything about Frode. I...I'm not sure what to believe."
Isaac scowled. "You can't be serious. You saw him. Do you honestly think anyone can fake something like that?"
Nikolai looked at him. "I want him to be faking." He wasn't sure it was true, but he didn't want Frode to be psychic.
"Why?"
"He's Frode. I've known him most of my life, and if I didn't know..."
Isaac pushed one of the cups toward him. "Then it means you never knew him at all."
Nikolai gave him a curt nod.
"Which most likely means he doesn't like you as much as you like him. If he had, he'd have shared his secrets with you." A wicked grin took over Isaac's mouth.
"Fuck you."
"I don't think there will be any fucking at all." A quick frown. "Is he able to?"
"What do you mean?"
"If he can't touch..." Then he waved a hand. "Though he's been in relationships, so I guess he can."
What if he couldn't? "Relationships don't equal sex."
"True. Maybe it should be your next mission, figure out if Frode is sexually active, and if so, how he goes about it."
Heat unfurled in Nikolai's core. "It could get me killed." And he couldn't believe he was having this discussion with Isaac.
"Yeah, maybe it's best you stay away. Plus, I think Saylor has called dibs."
Nikolai blinked exaggeratedly at him. "What did you just say?"
"Saylor from forensics--"
"I know who Saylor is." And how he'd looked at Frode during their lunch.
"I'm only saying--" Before he could continue his sentence, there was a knock on the door followed by Medlin walking in.
"They've found a body. Woman on a rug in her living room."
"Fuck." Nikolai glanced at the whiteboard. It was too soon. They should have at least two months before he struck again if he stuck to his pattern.
"Not fresh."
"What?" He focused on Medlin.
"Forensics have arrived, but we're talking liquefaction, loss of soft tissue. They'll have to give you a plausible time of death, but it's not recent."
An unpleasant tingle washed over Nikolai's body. "February."
Medlin raised his eyebrows in question.
"I asked Isaac some days ago if we'd missed a victim. October, December, then nothing until April. If he was to stick to the same pattern of the first two, there should've been one in February."
A grunt was all he got from Medlin. "Are you going there?"
Nikolai wished they could stay at the precinct, but the victim, whoever she was, deserved their attention. "Yes, we'll have a look while the crime scene is still intact."
Isaac made a sound. "How come no one found her until now?"
"She lives in a house--"
"Different from the other three."
Medlin nodded. "Lives in a house a little outside of town. It's pretty desolate out there. You'll have to check why no family or workmates have missed her."
Nikolai got to his feet. "Let's go."
Isaac grumbled but followed him out of the room.
"I don't know how long they'll let you keep the case." Medlin walked with them but was heading to his office.
"What?" Nikolai stopped instead of heading toward the exit.
"Four bodies. Federal will want to have it. We're not a department with enough resources for a serial killer case."
"We're already working a serial killer case."
"Yes, but there is no way we can hide this from the media for much longer, and then all hell will break lose."
Fuck. He was right, but what would the federal agents do that they weren't already doing? "I want to keep it."
"Then you better solve it fast because I don't have a say in the matter."
Nikolai gave a brisk nod and turned toward the exit. How would he catch a killer when he had nothing to go on?
Isaac gave him a grim look as they jogged down the stairs and toward Nikolai's car. "Will Frode be up for seeing Yeager today?"
For a moment, Nikolai didn't understand what he was talking about, then he remembered the forensic artist. "I hope so, but I don't know if a drawing will help us."
Isaac pursed his lips. "Depends on if he's in our system or not."
"How often are they in the system?"
"Depends on what kind of killer he is. Was he one of those freaks who killed the neighborhood cats as a teen or is he squeaky clean, loved at his work, and sooo nice to his neighbors?"
They reached the car, and Nikolai looked at Isaac over the roof. "Is the artist any good?"
"Yeah, he's good, and he's especially good when he's working with Frode."
Weird. "Why?" He opened the door and got in; Isaac did too.
"I suppose it's because Frode has a photographic memory. He doesn't have to guess or question if what he remembers is correct. He has the image stored in his brain, and it will always be stored in his brain."
"Photographic memory?"
"No, it's the wrong word. It's not a memory.
He touches something, and he sees everyone who's touched it before him.
It's not a memory. He doesn't see them touch it; he only sees their faces.
At least I think it's how it works. He told me once they come in order and push the one before them out of the way.
He touches something, then he sees everyone who's handled the evidence, then the last person who touched the item before the forensic team arrived, then the next, and the next, and so on.
He can't stop it, it rolls over him, but he remembers them all.
No one ever fades. And when it's too many, he passes out.
There is no stopping the avalanche once he's touched something.
Which is why he doesn't touch things that have been in a public place. "
Nikolai nodded and turned the key in the ignition.
"If he could've stopped the flow, it would've been different."
"How do you mean?"
"Then he could've touched door handles. It's at the top of his list of things he doesn't touch.
Imagine how many times a door handle is touched.
How many people do you think pass through the door at the precinct every day?
Then you add up all the days of the year, and then all the years the door's been there.
It would most likely end with a trip to the hospital if he touched it.
But had he been able to break the flow, he could've touched the door to the victims' homes, and we could've seen if the same man entered all four of them. Given this last one is one of ours."
Nikolai was almost sure it was one of theirs.
* * * *
Frode was in Yeager's office with a cup of tea in his hand, watching him work. He was always amazed by his skill, not only his talent with a pen but how he knew what questions to ask to get Frode to describe the face right.
"How sure are you this is the guy?" Yeager didn't look up from the drawing.
"It's most likely him. He showed up on two different occasions.
If I'm to guess, he bought the rug off a man I think we should draw as well, then sold it to the victim, and then he somehow got to her again.
He showed up between the victim and the forensic team, and between the black man and the victim. "
"The black man being the one you believe sold the rug to the suspect?"
"Yeah, sorry." Sometimes he spoke as if people had seen what he'd seen.
"Nothing to be sorry about." Yeager moved his pencil over the paper. Frode wanted to look, but he knew when to wait and when to interact.
Several minutes went by without a word, then Yeager motioned him over. He placed the cup on the desk and stepped closer so he could see. It was the man, but the face lacked shadows, wrinkles, and other marks. They'd get there. They'd done these sketches enough times that Frode knew how it worked.
"Looks good. The ears are a little wrong."
"Bigger? Smaller? Pointy? Protruding?"
"I want to say they were placed high, but...
" He closed his eyes and conjured up the image.
"No, a little pointy and not much of an earlobe.
" He opened his eyes and found Yeager watching him.
Then he nodded and went to work on the ears.
A short while later, Frode hummed to let him know he had it right.
"Okay." Yeager met his gaze again. "Scars? Wrinkles? Beauty marks?"
Frode closed his eyes again. "I want to say he's in his mid-forties, so some wrinkles. Crow's feet, though not deep ones. Boyish. He has a small scar right above his left eyebrow."
"Freckles? You said he was a redhead?"
"No freckles. And he's not a ginger. My guess is if the sun hits his hair, it'll have red highlights, but...auburn is the best I can give you. He's clean-shaven, but I bet his beard would be red."
Yeager grunted and got to work. He asked about the scar, about the wrinkles, and so on.
Frode went back to his chair and waited. The next time Yeager showed him the drawing, he nodded. "Yup. That's him."
Yeager stretched and winced. He was tall but thin, and when he moved it was as if the bones weren't attached properly. Liquid.
"You want to do the black man today too?"
Frode nodded. "Yeah. Best to give Nesterova what he wants. I don't think he's the killer, but maybe he's sold more than one rug to the man. Or maybe it was a one-time thing, but if the police can find him, they can ask him some questions."
Yeager nodded in agreement. "Let me grab a cup of coffee and move around for a few minutes."
All Frode did was nod. He was exhausted today, his head was still a little fuzzy, and his limbs were heavy, but if Yeager needed to expel some energy, he wouldn't stop him. He closed his eyes and focused on the man he suspected had handed the rug over to the murderer.
If he were the murderer.
What if the murderer knew about Frode's talent and made sure not to touch the rug? Nah, he didn't think anyone outside the police paid him any attention.
"Did they find a murder weapon?"
He jumped at Yeager's voice and opened his eyes. "I don't know. They never asked me to touch one."
He nodded, sipped his coffee, then sat in his chair again. "Okay. Head-shape?"
And off they went again. Yeager asking questions, and Frode answering only to see a face take shape on paper. Amazing.
* * * *
Nikolai held a hand over his nose. The house smelled of death, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, but damn. Saylor looked grim in his marshmallow suit.
"Killed in February?" Nikolai believed she had been.
Saylor shrugged. "Sounds plausible. We have to take her back with us and look her over, but judging by the bloating, separation of skin and muscles, and the discoloration, I'd say February is possible."
"It would mean a body every other month, so if he's sticking to a pattern..."
Saylor's eyes narrowed above the face mask. "Then the fifth one will come in June."
"We'll catch him before June."
"I hope so." Saylor looked around. "I'll send you a report as soon as we're done."
"The rug, can you tell if it's old or new, if it's been touched a lot?"
Interest shone in Saylor's eyes, and he looked at the blood-soaked rug. "Hard to tell with the decomposition happening on top of it, but I can try to look at the fibers. See if it's been walked on a lot." His eyes narrowed. "I didn't think Frode did rugs."
Nikolai swallowed the urge to snarl at him. "He doesn't normally, but he touched the rug from the first victim's home."
It was hard to guess Saylor's expression behind the mask, but Nikolai got the feeling he was pleased. Excited. Fuck.
"We should talk to the neighbors." Isaac's interruption was welcome.
"Yes." Nikolai looked at Saylor again. "Let us know as soon as you have anything."
They couldn't exit the house fast enough. Once they were out in the fresh air, Isaac bumped his shoulder with him, or more like he bumped Nikolai's upper arm with his shoulder. "You don't want to piss Saylor off."
"I didn't."
Isaac snorted.
"What? I wasn't rude."
"You were having a pissing contest over Frode."
"We were not." But Saylor could go fuck himself.
Isaac laughed, but it wasn't a nice laugh. "So neighbors?"
"Frode lives over there." He gestured across the field in front of them. The house wasn't visible, but if they followed the gravel road around the bend, it would be.
Isaac looked at him. "Frode lives out here?"
"Yeah, small house hidden behind those trees you see the tops of over there." He gestured again. The ground was a little sloped, but his house was right there on the other side.
"Is he neighborly?"
Nikolai laughed before he knew what he was doing. "Neighborly? No, I don't think so."
"We should still talk to him. Do you think he's home?"
"Don't know." But now all he wanted to do was drive over to Frode's. "Let's check."
Isaac nodded and got into the car.
It only took a minute or two to get to Frode's, but his car wasn't there, and disappointment blossomed in Nikolai's chest. "Car's gone."
He looked around the yard. They'd passed one house on the way, but it was barely visible from here.
"Let's knock." Isaac undid his seat belt and was out of the door before Nikolai could say anything. He turned the car around while Isaac knocked. He waited a few seconds, but when Frode didn't open, he came back to the car.
"The door was locked."
"Did you try it?"
Isaac shrugged.
"I'm sure it will please him to know you'd walk into his house uninvited, especially since he doesn't want anyone touching anything inside."
Isaac studied him. "I wasn't going to touch anything. He deserves to have a sanctuary, as much as someone like him can have one." A frown formed on his face, and Nikolai focused on the road while he waited for whatever he'd ask next. He was sure there would be a question.
"Did you touch something when you were there yesterday?"
"No. Hjalmar guided me to an armchair and told me not to move and not to touch. I didn't."
He could see him nod in his peripheral.
"Let's talk to the other neighbors." Maybe Frode would be back before they had to head into town.
* * * *