Chapter 6
Frode was fucking beautiful. As always. Nikolai tried not to stare but failed. He'd aged, of course, but it took nothing away from his attraction.
"So what are you in the mood for?" Hjalmar was looking at the blackboard with the menu.
"Spicy halloumi burger with fries." Frode's voice was nothing but a grumble.
Hjalmar nodded. "Nikolai?"
"I'll have the pasta." He'd had it once before. Pasta with mozzarella and prosciutto. Divine.
"Drinks?" Hjalmar looked around the table.
"Beer." Frode was still grumpy, and Hjalmar gave him a questioning look.
"Beer?"
"Yes, a fucking beer."
Hjalmar held up his hands. "A beer it is." Then he got up and walked toward the bar only to hesitate. "Nikolai, drink?"
"Water, please."
A nod, then he was talking to the woman behind the bar.
"So..." Nikolai looked at Frode and got a glare in return. "You're a psychic now?"
"No, not at the moment."
Eh...Nikolai frowned, and Frode huffed.
"How does it work?"
"It's like this." Frode leaned closer, so Nikolai did too.
"We'll pretend not to hate each other for the next twenty to twenty-five minutes, given they serve the food fast enough, to make Hjalmar happy, then we'll go another fifteen or so years before we look at each other again.
Best would be if you moved back to wherever you came from.
I was here first after all, so I feel you should make an effort to stay out of my way. It's only fair."
Nikolai stared. Frode had been a quiet kid.
Uncertain and careful. He'd always kept to himself and done his best not to get noticed.
Hard when you had a brother like Hjalmar, who was loud, exuberant, and friends with everyone.
But there had been moments when Frode had stared at Nikolai, when his dark eyes had been glowing, and sometimes he managed to get a shy smile out of him.
Those smiles had made Nikolai's heart trip over itself.
"Or we put all this hostility behind us and move forward." Nikolai gave him a flirty smile.
"Not gonna happen."
"Oh, come on, Frode. You can't still be angry about--"
"Frode!"
It took Nikolai a moment to realize Saylor from the forensic team was walking toward their table.
"Hello again, Saylor."
"Jaxon." Saylor touched a hand to his chest and smiled at Frode. "I wanted to apologize for last time. I beat myself up all the way home. So embarrassing."
What the fuck? Before Nikolai could stop himself, he was glaring at Saylor.
Frode, on the other hand, chuckled, and a shiver curled around Nikolai's spine.
"Don't worry about it. Want to join us?"
Nikolai searched frantically for something to say to make Saylor go away. He hadn't so much as acknowledged Nikolai sitting there; his eyes never left Frode. Nikolai gritted his teeth.
"Nah, I'm here with Maeve Dubose and Zachary Mallon, grabbing a quick lunch." He gestured toward a table by the window. "And you're here with..." His gaze left Frode and landed on Nikolai. "Detective." He dipped his head in a nod.
"My brother." Frode waved a gloved hand toward the bar where Hjalmar was in the middle of grabbing their drinks. "He's friends with Nesterova, so he tagged along."
Saylor nodded. "Right, I keep forgetting you and the lovely agent are brothers." A quick grin. "I should..." He waved toward his table at the same time as Hjalmar reached theirs.
"Saylor." Hjalmar put the glasses on the table and grabbed his hand. "Here to flirt with my brother?" He waggled his eyebrows, and Saylor the fucker blushed. Nikolai wanted to snarl.
"More like apologizing. I embarrassed myself last time we met by going all fan boy on him."
"You did not." But the smile Frode was giving him was amused, so maybe he had.
Saylor gave him an eye-crinkling grin. "Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen."
"Care if I join you?" Frode got to his feet, and the slack-jawed surprise on Hjalmar's face would've been funny if it hadn't been for Frode abandoning their table to sit with Jaxon fucking Saylor.
Up until today, he'd liked Saylor, but he was over it now.
"I've seen Dubose's face many times but never talked to her. "
"Oh, of course. Come, come."
Frode snatched his beer and walked away.
Hjalmar blinked, then looked at Nikolai with wide eyes. "What the fuck?" He spoke low and sat on Frode's chair instead of next to Nikolai like he had before.
Nikolai didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.
"I mean, he's referred to Saylor as the cute forensic guy for some time, but I didn't know they talked."
"Is Saylor gay?" Nikolai took a sip of water to try to conceal how much he wanted Hjalmar to answer the question with a no.
"No idea, but he looked...interested, right?"
Nikolai grunted.
"That's awesome. I mean, I'll look into him, but so far so good."
Nikolai frowned. "Why is it awesome?"
"Well, if he was fan-boying, then he most likely knows how Frode works, right? Understands his restrictions and so on."
Restrictions? "How do you mean?"
"Like fucking Declan. He was annoyed by Frode wearing gloves. I've been there when Frode loses consciousness. It's not fun. I always want gloves on him, but not Declan. Fucker."
Nikolai didn't know what to say. He'd noticed the gloves, but did he wear them all the time? How did he go about doing dishes, taking showers, and cooking? He looked over at the table where Frode was sitting. He was nodding at something Saylor said, a gloved hand on his glass.
"Does he wear them all the time?"
Hjalmar shrugged. "Pretty much. Not always at home, and he knows what to buy.
Like he always orders an entire tray of, say, shampoo.
They most often come directly from the factory, wrapped in plastic, and haven't been touched or only touched once, whereas if he picks up a bottle at the store, someone has unpacked it and put it on the shelf, and other customers might have fondled the bottle and so on.
He can relax pretty well in his home, but like...
I don't touch the remote to his TV. If I did, he'd see my face whenever he touched it, so I simply don't. I think it's why he never invites anyone to his house.
If they're there, they'll touch things. Light switches, cutlery, you name it.
All it takes is for someone to touch something once, and it's forever there. "
Nikolai stared at him, then he glanced at Frode.
He still wasn't sure he believed Frode was psychic, but if what Hjalmar said was true, he didn't envy him.
He didn't think he'd ever pitied a psychic, but not being able to switch off a fucking lamp in your own home without seeing things sounded awful.
* * * *
Frode hated having lunch with people he didn't know. He hated having lunch with anyone other than Hjalmar, but today he was pleased with himself. Mallon, Dubose, and Saylor were nice enough, and instead of being hostile about his skill, they were asking questions about it.
Normally, he hated answering questions, but it sure beat having to sit with Nikolai.
"Maybe you should come work for us." Dubose, he'd already forgotten her first name, grinned at him. "We could include photos or composite drawings of people who's touched things in every report."
Frode shuddered. "I only agree to touching one thing a day, so it would take some time to go through an entire crime scene."
"Hmm. Yeah. Still, though. If we have a murder weapon, you could touch it, and we could give the detective the person they have to go find."
Frode nodded while chewing and swallowing the last of his food. "They still need evidence. My say-so doesn't hold up in court."
She shrugged. "I understand why it has to be like that, but if you can pick the guilty one out of a line-up, it should count for something."
Before he could answer, Hjalmar appeared by his side. He nodded at the others around the table. "Ready to go?"
He was. He'd been ready to leave before he entered. "Sure."
"We should get going too." Saylor smiled at him. "It was great seeing you again, Frode."
"Yeah, you too." Not so much, but he was grateful for the escape Saylor had provided, so he smiled. "See you around." He jumped to his feet.
"Maybe we could--"
"Have a lovely afternoon, y'all." Frode waved at the table like an idiot before walking ahead of Hjalmar toward the door. "You've paid, right?" He glanced at Hjalmar over his shoulder and took in the half-exasperated, half-amused expression.
"Yeah, I've paid."
Frode pushed the door open.
"You know, I think Saylor was about to--"
"I can take a cab back. You don't have to drive me." His attention was on Hjalmar, so he almost collided with Nikolai who was lurking outside the door. "Fuck." Frode jumped to the side.
"Sorry." Nikolai didn't look sorry, and Frode glared.
Hjalmar shook his head. "Frode, I think Saylor wanted to--"
"Will you come back to the station with me?" Nikolai reached for Frode's shoulder, but he sidestepped.
"What? No."
"Come on, Frode. Isaac is pissed at me, and it would help my work environment a lot if you agreed to work with us."
"Maybe you should ask for a transfer." How easy was it for a detective to change workplace?
Nikolai grinned at him. "Nope. I need to catch this fucker."
Frode knew nothing about the case, but the stakes were pretty high in homicide. It wasn't shoplifters they were trying to catch. He crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it you want me to touch?"
Nikolai winced. "We should talk about it back at the precinct."
"Medlin didn't want to say what it was, and when I reiterated I won't touch anything I've listed in my contract, he got cagey. If it's something I've listed, I won't do it."
"I haven't seen your list."
Frode raised an eyebrow at him.
"Can we at least talk about it where we don't have an audience?" Nikolai gestured at a gaggle of girls who were heading their way.
"I have to get back to work." Hjalmar clapped Nikolai's shoulder. "If he agrees to touch anything, you're driving him home."
They shared a look Frode did his best not to notice. Hjalmar was such a mother hen.
In the end, Nikolai nodded, and Frode wondered if someone slipped something into his beer since he followed Nikolai without further objections. Had to be drugs, right?
They walked in silence for several blocks. Nikolai kept glancing at him, and Frode kept ignoring him.
"So...Saylor?"
Frode met his gaze but said nothing.
"You...erm...have met him before."
"Since he's on the forensic team, he's touched a good portion of the things I touch for the police."
Nikolai frowned. "Okay, but you've met him."
"Sure." He gestured back toward Overtime. "Had lunch with him."
"You're gonna meet him again?"
"I would assume so." Not if he could avoid it. Though it was unfair to Saylor. He was a nice guy, or had appeared to be so far, at least.
"He likes you." Nikolai sidestepped a crack; his gaze fastened to the ground.
What was Frode supposed to answer? "I don't know.
He's fascinated." It had little to do with Frode's personality.
Saylor might like the way he looked; he wasn't sure, but he didn't know Frode.
All he knew was he could touch things and see who'd touched them before him.
As someone who'd dedicated their life to finding clues, it must be alluring to picture all the ways such a skill could be used.
"Fascinated?" Nikolai frowned at him.
Frode shrugged. It sounded conceited to talk about himself as something people were enthralled by, but some people got excited about psychics.
* * * *