Chapter 12
It was lucky Frode had made lasagna, so there was plenty of food. He'd believed they'd have a relaxing evening at home, but no. Hjalmar had texted to say he was bringing Nikolai.
Fucker.
Though, he guessed Nikolai hadn't had the most pleasant day, and should you complain about having two men of the law in your house when there was a murderer on the loose, one who'd killed someone next door?
Frode didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was a little rattled. He hadn't known Morgan Benham, but to know she might have been screaming for help and fighting for her life while he'd been sitting across the field twiddling his thumbs was upsetting.
There were murderers among them. Frode had always known. There were murderers forever living in his memory. But this man, this specific murderer, had been close to his house.
Restlessness made his bones vibrate, and he pulled the pan of lasagna out of the oven, put it on the stove, and walked toward the front door. Hjalmar and Nikolai would be here any minute now, but he walked outside anyway.
The door to the barn whined in protest as he opened it. He couldn't see Captain Scratch anywhere. "Aye, aye, Captain. Are you in here?" He went over to the bag of cat kibble and poured some into the bowl.
Motion in the corner of his eye made him turn. "Hey, buddy." Joy spread in his chest. "I was starting to get worried. I haven't seen you in a while."
Captain Scratch yawned and stretched as if he had been sleeping.
"Did you have a good day?"
He was gifted with a one-eyed glare, but it only made Frode smile.
"Come on. Have some food." He moved away from the bowl, knowing Captain Scratch wouldn't eat if he stood too close.
The crunch of tires on the gravel outside made Captain Scratch freeze then tense up as he got ready to run.
"Don't worry about it. I'll lead them away from here. You eat." He motioned at the bowl at the same time as one and then a second car was turned off. Did they have to drive separate cars?
Frode stepped out of the barn and huffed at his yard now filled with vehicles.
"You could think about the carbon footprint."
Hjalmar turned to him and grinned. "We could."
Nikolai exited his black Audi and smiled. Why was he smiling? He hardly ever smiled at Frode. Maybe it was the prospect of food.
"I like the hair."
The hair? Frode touched his hair and realized it was still in a bun. He scowled at Nikolai.
"What? I'm serious."
"Yeah, right." But he didn't undo his hair. He glanced at Hjalmar. Maybe this would be a good time to ask him to cut it. Except Nikolai was here, and he didn't want to talk about his aversion to having strangers touch him.
"Is Captain Scratch okay?" Hjalmar motioned toward the barn.
"He's fine."
"Good." Hjalmar took a step toward the house, and Frode followed. Nikolai took up the rear, and soon all three of them stepped into the hallway. It was a small hallway, so they were a bit too close to each other for Frode's liking while taking their shoes off, but he took deep, calming breaths.
"Smells good." Nikolai's voice was a low rumble, and Frode shivered.
"Lasagna." He glanced at him and was surprised by the soft look in Nikolai's eyes. What the fuck was going on?
"Are we eating in the kitchen or in front of the TV?" Hjalmar was already halfway to the kitchen.
"Doesn't matter." Frode walked in front of Nikolai into the TV room, then slithered off to the side when he sensed Nikolai too close behind him.
"TV it is." Hjalmar shot him a grin over his shoulder.
"There's a salad in the refrigerator. And beer. Or would you like some wine?"
"We're driving back, but I wouldn't say no to a beer."
Frode nodded but didn't move toward the kitchen. It was small, and if all three of them went in there, it would be too crowded. Nikolai didn't go either, and Frode glanced at him. "Please." He gestured at the open doorway.
There was a small tug at the corner of Nikolai's mouth, then he raised his eyebrow. "Please? I didn't know you could beg."
Frode snorted. "I didn't beg; I was trying to be polite. Must've forgotten who was in my house. Sit your ass down and don't touch anything." Then he stomped toward the kitchen.
Hjalmar looked up from cutting a square of lasagna. "All good?"
"He's an asshole." He did nothing to keep his voice down.
Hjalmar grinned. "Sure."
"How was your day?" Frode went to grab three bottles of beer from the fridge. He opened them all with swift motions.
"It was okay."
"Yeah? Because you sounded a little off when we talked earlier." He lingered by the table.
Hjalmar shrugged. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He hated when Hjalmar was feeling down. It didn't happen often; he was way more positive than Frode, but everyone had off days.
"I'm fine." He stepped closer and squeezed Frode's shoulder.
"I promise." Then he took one of the beers from Frode and headed toward the TV room.
Frode followed him and placed one beer in front of Nikolai and the other on the opposite side of the table.
Walking back into the kitchen, he fixed a green plate for Nikolai and handed it to him without meeting his eyes, before going back and making one for himself.
When he sat at the end of the couch, Hjalmar had the TV guide up on his phone and told him which channel to put on for a hockey match. Perfect.
They ate in silence while watching the TV, taking turns at making commentary on the game.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Frode motioned at the TV with his beer bottle when a player was sent to the penalty box for nothing. Or almost nothing, at least.
When Nikolai chuckled, he glared at him. "That was not right."
"Maybe not." His eyes were dancing, and Frode wasn't sure he'd ever seen it before. He looked at Hjalmar.
"What's wrong with him?"
Hjalmar shrugged. "I don't know."
Frode shook his head and focused on the TV again.
* * * *
Frode was fucking hot. Nikolai had been aware before, but as he lost himself in the hockey game, he forgot to glare at Nikolai, and it made all the difference. He liked his hair tied back too.
Hjalmar scraped up the last of his second portion of lasagna and slumped back against the backrest with a groan. "Thanks for the food, Frode." He clapped Frode on the shoulder, and he didn't so much as flinch, never taking his eyes off the TV.
"Anytime."
"It was delicious." Nikolai waited for a reply but never got one. It had been delicious. He could get used to nights like this. Julian hadn't been much of a cook, and he hadn't watched any kind of sport.
"Fucker!"
At first, Nikolai believed Frode had meant him, but he was glaring at the TV. Nikolai glanced at Hjalmar and got a grin in reply. Normal behavior then.
The period came to an end, and Frode flopped back against the backrest. "More beer?" He looked between Hjalmar and Nikolai.
"Not unless you want to share your bed." Nikolai kept his face blank while waiting for a reaction.
"Only more beer for me then." Frode got to his feet, gathered their plates, and disappeared into the kitchen.
"He seems okay today." Nikolai kept his voice low to avoid Frode hearing him.
Hjalmar shrugged. "He's tired, look at his eyes, but it's to be expected the day after."
Frode came back with a beer in his hand. "What are you two whispering about?"
"You." Nikolai grinned.
As expected, he got a glare in reply.
"How did it go with Yeager?" Maybe they shouldn't talk about work now that Frode was relaxed, but the words were out of Nikolai's mouth before he could think better of it.
"He's awesome."
It wasn't the reply he'd expected, but he nodded. "A good likeness to how you remember him?"
Frode's eyes narrowed. "It's not a memory, you get that, right? He's forever stored in my mind as clear as any photo."
Okay. "And the sketch is good?"
A nod. "As I said, Yeager is awesome."
"I'll guess I'll see for myself tomorrow."
Frode nodded, then he grimaced. "Do you know if...Morgan suffered?"
He took a deep breath. "I don't know. When someone slits your throat, you don't have long, but...How long he was with her before he did it, I don't know."
Frode paled, and Nikolai wanted to curse. He'd been relaxed, and now Nikolai had destroyed his evening.
"We'll deal with it in the morning."
Frode gave a slow nod. "Yeah, I guess she's already been gone for some time." He glanced at the TV. The break was still ongoing.
Nikolai debated what to say, then he blew out a breath.
"I asked Saylor to have a look at the rug, see if we can learn anything from it.
We assume she's been gone for about two months, but no one appears to have missed her.
No friends or family checking on her. I'll look into what she did for a living tomorrow, but it's strange no workmates have wondered where she is. "
Frode nodded again.
The hockey started, but the relaxed atmosphere was gone. Frode didn't shout at the TV, didn't curse or gesture, and Nikolai wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Why had he brought up work in the first place?
When the third period came to an end, Hjalmar stretched. "I think I'm gonna head home. I need sleep."
Frode nodded and carried his now-empty beer bottle to the kitchen. Nikolai didn't move. He should. Should leave with Hjalmar, but he didn't want to get up from the armchair.
Hjalmar stood, glanced at Nikolai, then called out to Frode. "I'll call tomorrow."
Frode walked out of the kitchen. "Drive safe."
"Always." Hjalmar grinned. It was a lie. Hjalmar drove as if he was in a car chase most of the time. Since Frode rolled his eyes, Nikolai believed he was aware.
"Thanks for the food." Hjalmar went to the hallway and stepped into his shoes.
"You want to bring some for lunch tomorrow? There is half a pan left."
"Nah, you keep it. I don't know where I'll be at lunchtime tomorrow, would be sad to leave it to rot in the precinct refrigerator."