Chapter 14
Nikolai spent the afternoon at the precinct. Mallon sent a preliminary report of the autopsy, confirming his suspicion of Morgan Benham having been killed in February.
Isaac tracked down her mother, who was living in a care facility with early-onset dementia. No siblings and no father on record. So fucking sad.
"She ran her own company, worked from home." Isaac looked at his notepad.
"What did she do?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but like marketing stuff for small businesses.
She created graphics, posted on social media, wrote emails, and stuff like that.
All contact between her and clients appears to have been happening through emails and private messages.
Her inbox is full of angry people canceling their cooperations.
" Isaac looked at him. "Should I reach out to them all and ask some questions? "
Nikolai nodded. "Put someone on it. I doubt anything will come of it, but who knows."
Isaac nodded but did nothing to make it happen. When silence had lasted for a few seconds, he blew out a breath. "She's a loner."
"No friends, no family, working from home."
"Exactly. Or I wouldn't say no friends, she had many friends online, but she doesn't appear to have had any friends she ever met up with in person."
"So how did she meet the killer?"
Isaac nodded. "And we can't ask anyone how long she's had the rug."
Medlin walked into the room before Nikolai could say anything. "One of the uniforms has a woman who thinks she knows who the rug-seller is."
"Address?" Nikolai got to his feet.
"No, she doesn't know him. A group of officers interviewed the neighbors of the victims, went door-to-door, and she said she believed he was working at Bixler Auto Repairs. He helped her with an oil change a few weeks back, and she thinks his name is Sam, but doesn't know his last name."
"Let's check it out." Nikolai grabbed the folder with the composite drawings.
Medlin didn't move out of the way. "What did the Maiden say?"
Nikolai stared at him. "Who?" He knew who, but they couldn't keep calling Frode the Maiden.
"Frode. Why was he here? Will he touch more rugs?"
"Not at this point. We talked about the drawings. The suspect touched the rug after Montes but before the forensic team. Then we went to talk to Saylor about the most recent rug."
"And?"
Nikolai shrugged. "Saylor wasn't done processing it, but it's not worn, so if we need Frode to touch another one, maybe it's the one he should go with." He didn't want Frode to have to touch another one.
"We need to wrap this one up fast. The higher-ups aren't happy with me, and I don't think we have more than a day or two before someone will snatch this away from us."
"Maybe they should." Isaac didn't so much as flinch when Nikolai glared at him. "We don't have the manpower or the expertise."
"Sure we do." They were good detectives, they had a good forensic team, and they had Frode.
"We're dealing with a serial killer, Nesterova. It's not a dick-measuring competition. We need him locked up in a cell. Who puts him there doesn't matter, what matters is that he's caught before he can kill again."
All good points, but Nikolai needed a win. Over the last few months, his life had gone to shit, and he needed something good, needed to feel he'd done something meaningful.
"Let's go."
Isaac huffed, but when Medlin moved out of the way, he followed Nikolai without a word.
They drove to Bixler Auto Repairs in silence. Nikolai parked next to a rusty Ford and turned to Isaac. "Let's talk to him."
All Isaac did was stare at him.
"I heard you, okay? He needs to be caught. I fully agree."
"So why not hand it over to people who have experience working with serial killers? They have profilers and shit we don't have access to. They know how their minds work. We're fumbling in the dark."
Nikolai didn't have a good answer. "Let's do an as good job as we can until they take over."
Isaac rolled his eyes but opened the door and stepped outside.
Together, they walked into the auto shop. It smelled of motor oil and gas. Classic rock played in the background, and Nikolai spotted no less than four guys in coveralls. They all stopped what they were doing and looked at them.
"Hi. We're looking for Sam." Isaac held up his badge.
One of the guys motioned toward a closed door. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, not a day over twenty-two. The poor guy looked terrified.
"He's not in trouble. We only want to ask him a few questions." Nikolai nodded at the guy in what he hoped was a calming manner.
The door opened and the man appearing in the doorway was the drawing come to life. Nikolai was stunned. Not only had Frode remembered him correctly, but Yeager had managed to copy the memory to paper.
"Sam?" Isaac stepped forward, and Nikolai let him do his excited puppy thing. "Could we go somewhere to talk?"
Sam looked confused and more than a little suspicious as he motioned for them to follow him into the office. "What's this about?"
Nikolai closed the door behind him. "Did you sell a rug some months ago?"
"What?"
Nikolai realized they didn't know how long the murderer had hung onto the rug. Frode saw the touches in chronological order, but it could've been months between touches if the rug had been in storage. "Do you remember selling a rug?"
Sam widened his eyes and shook his head, but it was more in a gesture of disbelief than a denial. "A rug?"
Nikolai switched tactics, opened the folder, and pulled out the composite drawings.
He placed both of them on the messy desk.
"We have a psychic working with the department.
He helped us look into a rug connected to a murder--" A quick intake of breath from Sam.
"--and this is what he gave us." Nikolai motioned at the drawings.
"I didn't kill anyone." The fear was palpable.
"He never said you did. This--" Nikolai tapped a finger at the suspect.
"--is the man we're interested in talking to, but all we have is his picture, no name, no idea where he works, or if he's in our jurisdiction.
Our psychic sees in which order people touches things, and he saw you touch it, then this man, then the victim.
We need to talk to him." And lock him up for good.
Sam opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. "I sold him the rug. It wasn't anything special, we're talking a few dollars, but my wife lost her job and...instead of throwing it away." He shrugged.
"What can you tell us about him?"
"Nothing. I put up an ad on Facebook Marketplace. He had some made-up name and a cartoon as his profile picture--if it was his account at all. He came to pick the rug up, paid cash."
Fuck. "Did you get the feeling he lives here?"
Sam was quiet for some time. "Yeah. Can't be sure of course, but he talked about how annoying it was that they'd blocked off the southern exit, and how he had to take a detour to work every day. Could've been total bullshit."
"Yes, but it's something. Do you remember why it was blocked?"
"They built a roundabout. It's been done for months now."
Nikolai glanced at Isaac. He hadn't been here then. Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I remember. It was a bit tricky to get onto the freeway for a few weeks."
"Right." Sam nodded.
"So it's likely he lives somewhere near the southern exit?"
Both Isaac and Sam shrugged, and Nikolai nodded because yeah, the man could've been chitchatting to not raise any suspicions. He focused on Sam again. "He didn't say where he worked?"
"He stood on my doorstep for a minute, two at the most."
Nikolai offered his hand. "Thank you for your help, Mr...."
"Neace." Sam shook the offered hand while Isaac fished out a card.
"If anything comes to mind, don't hesitate to call us. Anything. The tiniest detail might help."
Sam accepted the card but didn't say anything.
They saw themselves out.
"Not much to go on." Isaac fastened the seat belt and avoided his gaze.
Nikolai grunted. At least they had confirmation the suspect had bought the rug from Sam.
* * * *
Frode was reheating a plate of yesterday's lasagna when headlights streamed in through his kitchen window and a black Audi rolled down his driveway. He groaned. What the fuck was Nikolai doing here?
He put the plate in the microwave, started it, and headed toward the hallway. Nikolai stepped out of the car when Frode opened the door. "What are you doing here?"
"Good evening to you too."
Frode huffed.
"May I come in?"
"Why?" Frode crossed his arms over his chest, but when Nikolai kept walking toward him, he stepped aside, so he could enter.
"What are you up to tonight?" Nikolai toed off his shoes, and Frode stared.
"This is home invasion."
"No, sweetheart, it's not."
Frode scowled. "Fuck you, Nesterova."
The microwave pinged, and Nikolai grinned. "Food's done."
Turning around, Frode stomped toward the kitchen. "Are you staying?"
"Yes."
"Would you like some lasagna?"
"Yes."
Fucker. Frode grabbed a green plate, cut a piece of lasagna, and switched it for his plate in the microwave. "Why are you here? Other than to eat."
Nikolai shrugged. "We talked to Sam today. The man who sold the rug to the suspect."
Frode turned to look at him. "And?" He never got this involved in cases.
"He sold him the rug but only talked to him for a minute. He never learned his name. He paid cash. And he complained about the southern exit to the freeway being blocked."
"The roundabout."
"Right." Nikolai nodded.
"Back in August?" Frode believed so. He'd found it stupid to block roads in the middle of the tourist season, but he guessed road construction needed to be done when there was no snow.
"Maybe. Isaac is looking into it."
Isaac? It was Elmore, right? "Anything from Saylor?"
Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "No. Why?"
Frode shrugged. Maybe he should do a reading of the rug to confirm the same man had touched it. "How did you find the guy? The seller, I mean."