Chapter 11
Hjalmar called when Frode was on his way home from his sitting with Yeager. He accepted the call, and Hjalmar's voice filled the car.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. Heading home from a hot date with Yeager."
Silence.
Frode glanced at the dashboard display to make sure the Bluetooth hadn't cut off or something. It hadn't. Hjalmar's name was still there.
"Is Yeager...eh...into men?"
Frode huffed a laugh. "I have no idea. He's very professional."
"But you like him."
Frode frowned. "What's this? Yesterday you were all set on Saylor, and now you're trying to get me to hook up with Yeager."
"I'm not trying to get you to hook up with Yeager. I don't know Yeager well enough."
The protective big brother mode had been switched on.
"Hjalmar, I'm thirty-seven years old. Hardly an age where you need to vet my hook-ups."
"So there are hook-ups?"
He remained silent, and Hjalmar sighed. "I don't want you to be lonely."
"May I remind you you're single?" He'd always believed Hjalmar would've been happily married at this age and maybe have a kid or two.
Frode wouldn't mind being an uncle. He didn't want kids of his own, didn't think he was cut out for it, and since he had a hard time looking after himself, it was most likely best not to inflict his ways on anyone else.
But an uncle. He'd have loved to be an uncle.
When Hjalmar had been quiet for several long seconds, Frode glanced at the display again. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, of course. Got distracted."
A lie.
Fuck, was Hjalmar lonely? Oh no, did this mean he'd have to do some brotherly duty and take him out to a bar or something? "Want to have dinner?" He winced as he spoke. All he wanted was to go home and relax in front of the TV, but he could turn around and meet Hjalmar at some restaurant somewhere.
"Are you cooking?"
"I'm in the car right now, so no, but we could--"
"I'll be by around seven, and we can catch a game on TV."
Okay, dinner at home it was. "Sure. What kind of food are you in the mood for?"
"Whatever is fine. Or I could grab pizza on the way."
Pizza and a game sounded awesome, but Hjalmar never ate home-cooked food unless Frode made it. "I'll dig something out of the freezer."
"Awesome." The tone told him he'd made the right decision.
"Great, see you at seven."
They said goodbye, and Frode turned in on the gravel road leading to his house.
As he'd passed the driveway of the house next to his, a car drove out behind him.
He frowned when it followed him. It was a black Audi, not a car he'd seen around here before.
Though he guessed anyone could have visitors.
He passed the mailboxes and flicked the indicator as he slowed.
The car behind him did the same, and his frown turned into a scowl. What the fuck?
Turning in on his driveway, he drove up to the barn with the black Audi behind him. The car stopped as Frode did, and he groaned when Elmore jumped out of the passenger seat followed by Nikolai shortly after.
He got out of his car and glared at them. "Are you stalking me?"
Elmore grinned and bounced around in his usual way. "Good afternoon, Sunny."
Frode rolled his eyes. "What can I do for you?"
Nikolai's gruff voice made him look away from Elmore. "When did you last see Morgan Benham?"
Frode's mind drew a blank. "Have I met them?"
"Your neighbor." Nikolai's face was stony.
Dumbly, Frode looked around. His neighbor? There had been lights on in the house he'd passed. "Eh...there?" He pointed toward it.
"No, across the field." Nikolai pointed at his house, which Frode took to mean the house on the other side of the small mound.
"The white house?"
"Yes."
"Ah, never. I have no idea who lives there."
"You don't know your neighbors?" Nikolai crossed his arms over his chest.
"Nope. Never talked to them. Or I've said hi to the woman in that house." He motioned at the closest house again. "Our mailboxes are next to each other; don't know her name, though."
Nikolai sighed, but Elmore grinned. It slipped away when Nikolai spoke next.
"She was murdered, and we think it's the same guy."
Something cold slithered through Frode. Had the murderer been here? This close to his home? "In the white house?" He didn't see it because of the rise in the ground, but it wasn't far.
"Yes." Nikolai's tone was a little softer.
"Today?" Or yesterday, when he'd been out cold and unable to defend himself, if someone had come into his house. Thank fuck Hjalmar had been there.
"No, the body wasn't fresh. We believe back in February, but the forensic team is working on the report."
"Fuck."
Nikolai nodded. "Do you remember anything weird in February?"
"No, I...eh...don't pay much attention to what's going on out here."
"You haven't noticed her not driving past?"
He stared at Nikolai. "I have no idea what kind of car she drove."
"Do you know what she did for a living? If she had friends, family, and so on?"
Frode wanted to laugh at him, but a woman was dead, and it was not funny. "Sorry. I couldn't even tell you what she looked like."
"Okay." Nikolai dropped his shoulders. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm okay. Gonna go inside and cook now. Hjalmar will be here around seven."
Nikolai studied him, and he wanted to squirm, which was silly.
"We'll be in touch."
He imagined so. "Have a good night, detectives."
Frode walked into the house and kicked off his shoes. He found a hair tie and gathered his hair in a messy bun before heading for the kitchen to see what he'd be able to scramble together for dinner.
* * * *
Nikolai dropped Isaac off at the station, then he headed for Hjalmar's apartment. He didn't know if he'd be there, but if he went home between work and going to Frode, then maybe.
He wanted to see Frode, and if he met up with Hjalmar, he might get invited. A little stalkerish, sure, but Hjalmar was the kind of guy who asked you to tag along to places, whereas Frode was likely to shut the door in your face and lock it.
Finding a parking spot wasn't easy, but he managed to grab one a block away and walked toward Hjalmar's building with rapid steps. He wanted to forget this day.
Waiting wasn't something he was good at, but he had to give the forensic team some time.
He jogged up the stairs to the third floor to Hjalmar's apartment and knocked on the door.
No reply.
Fuck. He didn't want to head home. Three months, and his apartment was still like something belonging to a stranger.
An image of his and Julian's house flashed before his eyes.
The soft colors, plush rugs, and matching decor--all Julian's doing.
He'd believed he'd contributed, but judging by how barren and uninviting his place was, he'd have to go with no.
There were still moving boxes stacked along one wall in his living room.
He didn't know what was in them. Julian had packed them.
He'd unpacked his clothes and kitchen things but hadn't used anything else.
"Nikolai?"
He jumped and spun around to find Hjalmar coming toward him. His muscles relaxed, and he sighed. "Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
"I dropped Elmore off and...didn't want to go home."
Hjalmar's expression softened. "Rough day?"
"Frode's neighbor is soup on a rug." Nikolai rubbed his face as the stench he hadn't been able to clear all day grew stronger. It was an illusion, but he had to fight a gag.
"Frode's neighbor?"
"White house on the other side of the hump. He didn't know her. We talked to everyone who lived nearby, and Frode knew nothing about her."
Hjalmar nodded but looked grim. "How did he take it?"
"He looked scared when he asked if it'd happened today, but when he learned she'd been dead for some time he relaxed."
Another nod. "You don't think he's aware of Frode, do you?" He looked around the corridor and got his keys out of his pocket. When he'd unlocked the door, he motioned for Nikolai to enter.
"I don't think so. Saylor said he'd look at the rug.
I'll most likely have photos tomorrow and can start digging, but for now...
" He waved a hand. "I think the rugs are the connection, and I don't think it has anything to do with Frode.
" He took a breath. "We have no confirmation yet, but I think she was killed in February, so it was before we brought in Frode. "
Some tension left Hjalmar. "Right. Of course. It's only...his fucking neighbor."
"Yeah, I know."
Nikolai waited, hoping Hjalmar would say something. Offer him a drink or suggest he go with him to Frode.
"Did you see Yeager's sketch?"
Nikolai straightened. "Is it in?" He fumbled to get his phone.
"I don't know. I called Frode when he was on his way back from there."
It would give him something to do. Searching for the fucker would beat sitting alone in his apartment. There was nothing in his inbox, no missed call from Yeager, and no messages. "Nothing."
"Maybe he didn't have time to send them over before the end of the day."
Nikolai glared at him. "It takes two minutes."
Hjalmar shrugged. "I'm gonna shower, then I'm off to Frode's. Wanna come?"
Yes, yes, he did, but he couldn't let Hjalmar know this was what he'd hoped for when he'd come here. "Come with you into the shower?" He slid his gaze over Hjalmar in a suggestive manner. "I don't know man, you're not my type."
"Fuck you."
"Nah, I prefer to top."
Hjalmar gave him an unimpressed look. "Really, you have bottom written all over you."
Nikolai barked a laugh. "I do?"
"Yeah."
"What do you know about it? I don't think I've met a straighter person than you."
Hjalmar shrugged. "I have a gay brother."
"I'm well aware."
"Yeah, you are, aren't you?"
Nikolai didn't know how to interpret the tone.
"Frode's verse."
"What? Why do you even know that?" Nikolai rubbed his neck, uncomfortable with the topic.
Hjalmar frowned at him. "I've asked."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? He's my brother."
Nikolai huffed. "It's not normal to talk about your sex life with your brother, especially not in detail."
The frown didn't go away. "Why the hell not? I mean not in detail. It's not like he describes what he's doing in the bedroom, but why wouldn't we talk about it?"
No words formed on Nikolai's tongue, so he shook his head to scramble some free. "If I'd so much as hinted about guys fucking to Dimitri, he'd have beaten me black and blue."
Something hard crept into Hjalmar's eyes. "Yeah, but I'm not like Dimitri. I love my brother, and while I don't care what he does when he's in bed with someone, I wanted to know how he--"
"But he is with people?" Nikolai remembered Isaac's comment about him, maybe not being able to have an intimate relationship with someone. "I mean, his touch-thing doesn't get in the way?"
The hardness didn't leave Hjalmar's eyes, and Nikolai suspected he'd overstepped, but then Hjalmar rolled his shoulders and blew out a breath. "He doesn't read skin."
Meaning? Nikolai watched Hjalmar for a second or two. "So...he can touch skin without gloves?"
"Yeah, but not clothes."
"Ah." Nikolai nodded as he tried to understand what it meant in reality.
"I'm showering. Are you coming with to Frode? Food and a game?"
He nodded and watched as Hjalmar typed something on his phone. Most likely informing Frode of him tagging along.
As Hjalmar disappeared into the bathroom, he slumped on his couch and did his best not to think about Frode naked in bed.
Could he be naked in bed, or would the sheets trigger things for him?
Fuck, maybe keeping gloves on him at all times was for the best. It would be no fun if he got caught up in a steady stream of faces while Nikolai had his way with him. How many had touched Frode's sheets?
He snorted to himself. Given how much Frode disliked him, he didn't think he'd ever get the chance to be with him.
* * * *