Chapter 9
Nikolai was in the conference room, looking at the photos and trying to see something he'd missed the first thousand or so times he'd looked at them when the door bounced against the wall. Hjalmar blocked the doorway and he looked like an enraged bull.
"Are you trying to kill him?"
Nikolai was surprised there wasn't smoke coming from his nostrils.
"Who?" He knew who, but he hoped to buy some time. He'd believed Hjalmar would have calmed down by now.
"You called Yeager before we'd made it home."
"Eh...You know how memories can change."
Hjalmar stared at him. Silence stretched, and Nikolai didn't know what they were waiting for. When Hjalmar finally spoke, it was only one word. "Memories."
"Eyewitnesses."
"He's not a witness!"
No, Nikolai was aware he wasn't a witness in the common sense, but if he was a psychic, he'd seen the murderer, and it made him a witness of sorts. "It's still a memory."
"Not in the way you and I have memories."
"How does it differ?"
Hjalmar glared at him. For a moment, Nikolai had believed they were okay, now he wasn't sure.
"You didn't learn anything about what it is he does, did you? You push and push until you get your way without considering the consequences." Hjalmar's calm tone was worse than if he'd been shouting.
Nikolai shrugged. "If he's a psychic--"
Hjalmar whirled around and stomped out of the room.
Nikolai stared for a second or two before hurrying after him.
He made it out of the conference room in time to see Hjalmar walk into Medlin's office.
Fuck. Nikolai might not cower in front of his boss, but he was new here.
He rushed after him. He appeared in the doorway at the same time as Hjalmar spoke to Medlin.
"Nesterova is to go nowhere near Frode in the future."
Medlin looked between Hjalmar and Nikolai, then he sighed. "Is this complaint coming from you or from Frode?"
"Frode is out cold and will be for hours. I'll go back there in a minute to make sure I don't need to take him to the hospital, but I want to make sure Nesterova doesn't harass him when he wakes up."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Nikolai walked into the office. "When have I ever harassed Frode?"
"You bullied him into touching an item he first refused to touch, then you had the forensics hunt him down the moment he made it home.
You saw what state he was in. There is no way he'd be able to work with Yeager today.
Tomorrow is pushing it, and yet he agreed to it because you were breathing down Yeager's neck. "
Medlin sighed loudly. "Where is Elmore?"
"Returning the rug to evidence, I believe." Though, he'd been away for some time now.
"I want Elmore to handle all future contacts concerning Mr. Bakke. We only have one psychic willing to work with the police department in this city, and I'd like to have the option to consult him in the future." Medlin looked at Hjalmar. "How bad off is he?"
Hjalmar made a so-so gesture with his hand. "He dropped off before I could make a good assessment."
"Worse than normal?"
"What's normal? He's not in a coma, his brain isn't soup, but he threw up before he made it out of the stream of people, he could hardly stand on his own, he couldn't stay awake long enough to eat, he bit his cheek until he bled, he winced at every motion.
" Hjalmar sighed. "Unless he has an aneurysm as we speak, I'm pretty sure he'll live. "
Medlin scrunched his face and focused on Nikolai. "You pushed?"
Was there any point in lying? "He said no at first."
"How likely is it this will cause permanent damage?
" Medlin aimed the question at Hjalmar, and ice filled Nikolai's core.
Permanent damage? They didn't believe there would be permanent damage, did they?
Fuck. Nausea grabbed hold of him. He didn't want to cause Frode pain.
The opposite. But he hadn't truly believed Frode was a psychic--he'd been sure he wasn't. And how could anyone be sure what he said was true?
Hjalmar sighed. "I don't think there will be permanent damage, but I can't say for certain.
What I do know is there are too many new faces stored in his mind, and I'm not sure how much one brain can handle.
It's not only that he has to endure it while he touches something; they're there forever now, together with all the faces from the previous case, and the previous, and the previous, and so on.
His restrictions aren't because he doesn't want to help; it's because he doesn't know how much more he can endure before his brain gives up.
And I know to you he's a freak, a tool you can use, but to me--" He touched his hand to his chest, and his voice cracked.
"He's my brother, the only family I have in this country. "
Guilt swamped Nikolai; he dropped his gaze to the floor to avoid looking at the stark fear on Hjalmar's face. Frode had been smiling while talking to Saylor, having a burger and a beer, a few hours earlier, and now he was unable to stay awake because of what Nikolai had made him do.
Right as the silence dipped over into uncomfortable, Isaac appeared in the doorway. "Oh, Bakke, how's..." He scrunched his nose. "How is Frode doing?"
"Out cold."
Isaac nodded. "Will he be okay?"
"I hope so."
"Is there anything I can do? I can get food delivered for when he wakes."
Nikolai stared at him. Had he had food delivered to Frode before?
"Thank you, but I'm heading back there now. I only wanted to tell you Frode won't be working anymore on this case, and he won't work with Nesterova in the future."
"I'm coming with you." Nikolai turned toward the door, ready to go get his jacket.
"The hell you are. He doesn't want you in his house."
"Either I'm coming with you or I'll drive after you. Deal with it." Maybe driving after would be best so they had separate cars.
Hjalmar gave him a long, hard stare, then he stomped out of the office. Nikolai met Medlin's gaze. "I'll check on him."
He got a sigh in reply.
* * * *
Frode blinked his eyes open and groaned at the splitting headache. He quickly squeezed his eyes together again.
"Frode?" Hjalmar's voice was coming from nearby.
"Mmm." He didn't know if he made a loud enough noise to be heard.
"Are you awake?"
Was he? Sleep was tugging at him, and he wanted to sink into it, but right as he was about to, a wave of nausea washed over him.
It came on so fast, there would be no stopping it.
He rolled off the couch without opening his eyes, landed on hands and knees, and prayed Hjalmar hadn't moved any furniture while he'd been out.
"Frode!"
He got to his feet and scrambled forward toward the bathroom. He squinted with one eye to make sure he was heading in the right direction at the same time as he swallowed furiously to keep the bile down long enough to make it to the toilet.
The sun had set, so the bathroom was dark, but he didn't bother with the lights. He dropped to his knees hard enough to leave bruises, flung the lid open, and ejected the few bites of chicken he'd managed to eat before.
He could sense Hjalmar standing behind him. He gagged once more, then breathed heavily as he sat back on his heels. A glass of water appeared in front of him, and he accepted it with a sound of appreciation. He hoped Hjalmar knew it was a sound of appreciation.
Rinsing his mouth, he spit into the toilet, got to his feet, closed the lid, and flushed. "Fuck." The glass clinked against the sink as he put it down and reached for his toothbrush.
Hjalmar said nothing but remained in the bathroom.
Frode clung to the sink while brushing his teeth in sluggish motions.
"You up for food?" Hjalmar's voice was hardly louder than a whisper.
"What time is it?"
"A quarter to nine."
Ugh, he'd been out for hours. He spat and rinsed his mouth. "You should head home."
"Frode." There was concern and reprimand wrapped into one.
They didn't speak for several long moments, then Hjalmar sighed. "Food, will it stay down or come back up again?"
Frode patted his pockets for a box of raisins but came up empty. He must've put them on the coffee table.
Hjalmar left the bathroom and came back seconds later with the opened red box he'd brought to the station earlier. He accepted it with a smile, though he doubted Hjalmar could see it in the dim light. Raisin mixed with toothpaste wasn't great, but he ate a few and drank a glass of water.
"Okay?"
He didn't think his stomach was about to turn itself inside out. "Fantastic."
As they walked back into the TV room, Frode came to a stop. In the armchair was Nikolai. He'd missed him when he woke.
"What the fuck?"
Nikolai looked up from his phone, and Frode realized the only lights on were the window lamps he had on timer. "What are you doing here?"
"Checking if you're alive."
"I'm alive. You can leave now."
Nikolai made no effort to leave; he didn't so much as change position in the armchair. Frode huffed and walked around the room to switch on some lights, then he slumped on the couch as far away from Nikolai as he could get. He didn't have the energy to talk about the case now.
"Do you want some food?" Hjalmar was halfway to the kitchen before he hesitated and looked at Frode.
"Yes, please."
As he disappeared into the kitchen, Frode could sense Nikolai's eyes on him. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you staring at me then?"
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Nikolai sighed. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone drilled a hole in my skull and then took an electric whisk to my brain."
Silence, then Nikolai sighed again. "Dramatic."
"You asked."
He huffed. "I did, my fault."
"Yeah, Nikolai, your fault." Frode's tone wasn't pleasant, but he didn't wish for it to be either. "What are you doing in my home?"
"Hjalmar was worried. It made me worry."
Frode snorted but regretted it as his head almost exploded. Nikolai must've seen his wince because his expression softened. "Do painkillers help?"
"A little."
"Want me to get you some?"
"No. Please, don't touch anything."
Nikolai nodded slowly. "Hjalmar is touching things."
"He knows what to touch and what not to, and should he touch something by mistake, I don't mind seeing his face when he isn't here. You on the other hand...I'd like to be able to move around in my own home without having you there with me."
"Charming."
"I'm sure you understand." Or not.
Hjalmar appeared with the same plate of chicken and rice. Frode accepted it with a nod. He wasn't in the mood for more chicken and rice, but since he didn't have the energy to cook, he didn't have much choice.
He shoveled in one bite after the other--chewing, swallowing, adding another bite--while staring at the wall next to the TV. He could switch it on to give them all something to do, but he wasn't keen on exposing his eyes to flickering light.
"How are you feeling?" Hjalmar's tone was careful as he sat in the armchair next to Frode, and he wanted to snarl. He was fully aware Hjalmar was concerned, but hadn't he answered the question already?
"I'm okay."
"How okay?"
He breathed in deeply through his nose. "Headache. A little shaky." He looked at the way the fork shook in his hand. "Don't think I'll throw up again." And soon he'd take a shower. It always made him feel better.
"Good enough."
Frode gave him a weak smile. "I'll live."
Hjalmar snorted. "You'd better or I'd have to murder Nikolai."
"I wouldn't mind if you did. It could be your good deed for the day."
"Maybe."
Nikolai huffed. "I'm sitting right here."
Neither Frode nor Hjalmar acknowledged him in any way.
All teasing left Hjalmar. "You scared me today."
"Sorry. I was gonna leave, but then the puppy showed up with the rug, and..." He shrugged.
"The puppy?" Nikolai's voice got a little louder.
Hjalmar glanced at him. "Frode is good with faces, not with names."
"Elmore. I know his name."
"Oh, you do?" Hjalmar raised his eyebrows. "Did it register today?"
Frode ate another forkful of food not to have to reply, but Hjalmar chuckled. "It did. Well, that's progress. You've only worked with him for a couple of years, didn't take too long."
Frode gave him the finger.
"So..." Hjalmar leaned back in the armchair. "Heard anything more from the cute forensic guy?"
Frode would've rolled his eyes if he hadn't believed it would be painful. "You can go home now."
"I'll wait until you've showered."
"I won't fall."
Hjalmar nodded. "Remember when you said you wouldn't fall and fell?"
Frode scowled then winced. "I won't fall."
"I'm staying." Then he pushed off the armchair and was back less than a minute later with two pain pills resting on his palm.
"Thanks." Frode picked them up in a gloved hand and put them in his mouth before reaching for his water.
Nikolai was watching his every motion, but he did his best to ignore him.
* * * *