Chapter 17
Frode left his car where it was and walked with Nikolai back to the station.
They'd left Hjalmar, Ashley, and Ava at Overtime.
Both Ashley and Hjalmar had looked disappointed when Nikolai started to make noises about leaving, so Frode had walked up to the bar and paid for everyone's lunches despite it hurting his bank account more than he wanted to admit, then he and Nikolai had left.
Nikolai held the door to the station open for him, and Frode walked ahead up the stairs. The first person he saw when he reached the homicide floor was Medlin, and he didn't look happy. Though, for once, Frode didn't think it had anything to do with him being there.
"Frode." Medlin winced. "Have I approved you being here?"
Out of habit, Frode reached for a box of raisins in his pocket. He ate one before he could reflect on what he was doing. It was ingrained behavior. There was no dip in his blood sugar, and he wasn't about to do a reading, so he didn't need them.
"No. I saw him. The rug killer. Or the one I suspect is the rug killer. Nesterova brought me here."
Elmore almost fell out of his chair in his hurry to get to them. "You what?"
"I was grocery shopping, and he was there by the frozen veggies. We looked at each other, and I contacted Nesterova."
Nikolai placed a hand on Frode's shoulder. "I figured we'll head over to the store, get the surveillance tape, and hopefully his name and address from his card details, and then we can question him."
Medlin frowned. "Do we have any evidence?"
Silence.
Frode wanted to squirm.
"We haven't received the report from forensics yet." Elmore grimaced.
Nikolai's hand twitched on Frode's shoulder, then he cursed. "There won't be anything. There hasn't been in any of the previous cases."
"We can't know for sure." Elmore gave Nikolai sad puppy eyes, and Frode almost snorted.
"You can still get the things from the grocery store, right?" Frode looked around the three men. Or couldn't they? Maybe they needed evidence to investigate.
Medlin sighed. "Yes, go talk to them. See how much you can get without a warrant."
"I'll do the talking." Elmore grinned, and Frode figured it was most likely for the best. Nikolai rubbed people the wrong way. It was a gift. Frode ate another raisin. Medlin looked between the red box in his hand and his eyes.
"A word in my office, Frode."
Oops. Medlin was okay, not like Lieutenant Givens, but it didn't mean he wanted to be in his office any more than he needed to.
Medlin looked at Nikolai and Elmore. "Let me know if there are any problems accessing the video feed."
Nikolai looked like he was about to protest when Medlin motioned for Frode to walk with him, but Frode hurried forward before he could.
When they were in Medlin's office, he closed the door behind them and motioned for Frode to sit. Did it mean it would be a long conversation? Fuck.
He sat and looked expectantly at Medlin.
"Do you believe you're in danger?"
"What? No." He couldn't be, right?
Medlin studied him. "We don't know what he knows. Up until now, he might not be aware we're onto him, but after today, he'll most likely be."
"How?"
"We don't have any evidence but given Nesterova and Elmore can get his name and address, they'll be able to go talk to him. It's best to await the forensic report to see if we're lucky enough to be able to pin anything on him, but if it's clean, they can ask him about the rug."
Frode nodded.
"The thing is, we have nothing. We have four bodies but no prints, no DNA. He doesn't rape them, and he appears to know what he's doing when it comes to cleaning up a crime scene."
Frode didn't know where this was going, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Look, all I do is touch things. I'm not part of any investigations, I don't know anything. Most often I don't know what the crime is."
"Except this time, you do, and this time you're in the middle of it."
"No, I'm not."
Medlin shook his head. "I only meant, since it's Nesterova's case, you have a personal link to it."
"No, I don't. Nikolai is Hjalmar's friend, not mine."
Medlin raised an eyebrow at him, and Frode made a note of how fucking annoying it was.
He should do it more often.
"You know Nesterova, your neighbor was one of the victims. You're the one who sat for the composite drawing that has given us the only lead we have so far, and you're the one who spotted him in the grocery store. You're our only link to him."
"There is no link. I have no idea who this guy is." Frode's heart was speeding up.
"I didn't mean link as in you knowing anything, but without you, we'd have nothing."
Frode shook his head, not knowing what to say.
"Do you feel safe?" Medlin gave him a hard look.
"Yes." Maybe.
"Good. Go home and should you at any point not feel safe or suspect something is wrong, let us know. You can call Nesterova if you're more comfortable reaching out to him than me."
"I always call Hjalmar."
"Except Agent Bakke isn't working in this department and isn't connected to this case.
He doesn't know what's going on at any given moment.
After today, I hope Nesterova will be able to know where this creep is at all times.
If we're lucky, he has a record. If we can learn things about him, we can have a profiler come in. "
Frode nodded. Okay, made sense. "Right. I'll call Nikolai if something feels off, but few people know who I am and what I do."
Medlin made a curt nod. "Let's keep it that way."
Frode made to get up, but Medlin leaned forward and looked into his eyes. "Frode."
"Yes?"
"He kills women who live alone who buy rugs from him."
"Yes."
"It doesn't mean he's incapable of killing a man he knows might be able to link him to every victim."
Frode swallowed hard. "Only cops know what I do. It's not like I have a website where I tell the world about my skill."
"Still, you're one of few psychics in this city. Should someone look at the psychics, you're there."
Frode didn't like this, didn't like it at all.
"Look, I don't think you're in danger. I don't think he knows who you are, and Elmore and Nesterova won't say anything about you when they interview him, but rumors travel."
"Only cops know what I do."
Medlin looked at him for several long seconds.
"And cops sometimes talk, not to rat you out or anything, but who's to say someone didn't tell their spouse you were here to read a rug when they got home at the end of the day.
The forensic team. Hjalmar complaining about the homicide department asking too much of you. " He raised his fucking eyebrow again.
"Are people allowed to talk about me?" He'd always believed whatever he did for the police would stay with the police.
"Not about the investigation, but to say you were here?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't recommend it, but we're working with people. Word travels."
Fuck.
"Be a little extra vigilant, okay?"
Frode nodded. He should've gotten a dog.
* * * *
Nikolai stood back and allowed Isaac to work his magic on the grocery store staff.
The woman would've given him the store if he'd flashed his puppy eyes at her while asking for it, which was a good thing.
Getting a warrant could be tricky, so Nikolai did his best not to get in Isaac's way or piss anyone off, which meant standing silent and smiling whenever someone looked at him.
It took a couple phone calls before the woman figured out how to access and play the recording, but shortly after, Nikolai watched Frode walk through the store. He looked uneasy and did his best to avoid people.
They followed his stroll up to where he could see the freezer and watched how he froze mid-step. And there he was, the fucking asshole.
"Broccoli."
"Huh?"
Isaac shrugged. "He's getting broccoli. For some reason, I didn't think serial killers ate broccoli."
Nikolai had no reply.
Isaac frowned at the screen as they watched Ava bump into Frode and then him having a conversation with Ashley. Frode kept glancing at the killer, and cold churned in Nikolai's gut when he realized the killer kept looking at him too. Fuck. "He noticed him."
"Yep." Isaac sighed. "Question is if he's checking him out, was intrigued by something, or was watching because he saw Frode's reaction when he first spotted him."
"Checking him out?"
"Nothing says a serial killer can't be gay. Frode is a nice-looking guy, right? If you're into the disheveled look."
"Disheveled?"
Isaac waved a hand. "All I'm saying is we might have a gay, broccoli-loving serial killer on our hands. He doesn't rape the victims."
"I don't think we should assume he's gay simply because he doesn't rape his victims. I'm sure there are many straight men who don't rape women."
Isaac slapped his stomach only to hiss at the impact and shake his hand. "Fuck, you're not supposed to have a hard stomach."
They watched as the killer headed toward the checkout. "You think he was done shopping or he's running after having seen Frode?" Isaac stared at the screen as the guy held his card up to the reader in the self-checkout. "He went directly from the freezer to the exit."
He had, but there hadn't been many items in his basket. "I don't think it was his weekly shopping trip. Maybe he only needed broccoli."
"Maybe." Isaac hopped back in time to fifteen minutes before Frode had arrived, and they scanned the feed anew. They waited for a few minutes, then the killer entered the store.
"There he is." Nikolai watched as the fucker grabbed a shopping basket and walked past the fresh produce. He walked slower before the encounter with Frode, if they could call it an encounter, so maybe he had gotten spooked by someone looking at him.
"I'll go see if we can get his information from the checkout system.
" Isaac got up and headed for the door. All Nikolai did was nod and kept watching the creep.
He looked at Frode several times while he talked to Ashley.
He didn't pay Ashley any attention, so she should be safe, but his gaze kept coming back to Frode.
Maybe it was attraction. Or maybe he knew who Frode was. Cold sweat prickled on his skin. What if he was fascinated by psychics? A groupie. He'd scoffed at Frode's choice of words. Maybe he should ask Saylor if he knew about all the psychics in town and how easily accessible the information was.
"We're good to go."
He jumped at Isaac's voice. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I have his loyalty program info." Isaac's grin was wide.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Nope, Nathaniel Altman. He likes his discounts and personalized coupons."
Nikolai gaped at him. "How can he be so stupid?
He knows not to leave a fucking fingerprint or a single hair at a crime scene, but he shops with a card linked to a loyalty program?
" How did he manage not to leave anything at a crime scene?
Marshmallow suit? Could civilians get hold of marshmallow suits?
"Hopefully, it's not too good to be true." Isaac pocketed the printed paper. "They'll send a copy of the CCTV over to the station. Let's go tell Medlin."
Nikolai nodded, still a little stunned.
"Cheer up, Nesterova."
"I am cheerful. We still need evidence, though."
"I know, but now we can watch him."
They headed back to the station. Nikolai was disappointed to find Frode had left but not surprised.
They informed Medlin and got to work gathering all the information they could about Nathaniel Altman. No partner, no children, moved to Berg three years ago. "He's a fucking teacher." Nikolai glared at the screen of his laptop.
"Likes auctions, both online one and physical ones." Isaac didn't look up from his screen. "No Facebook profile in his real name."
"Sam said the guy had a weird name and a cartoon as profile picture." Nikolai pursed his lips. "Shall we go talk to him?"
"And say what?"
"The truth."
Isaac stared at him. "The truth?"
"We have a murdered woman who was found on a rug we've traced back to him."
Isaac scrunched his nose. "How have we been able to trace it to him? And Medlin said to hold off until the forensic report came in."
"The tech guys can dig up a deleted ad, right? So we could've gotten to Sam, and he could've pointed us to him."
"Except Sam didn't know anything about him."
"The tech guys could've found it." He got up and headed to Medlin's office. He rapped his knuckles against his open door. "We need the tech guys to find the Facebook ad for the rug."
Medlin only nodded and tapped away on his computer. "I've put in a request. I gave them Sam Neace's name after he'd confirmed."
They should already have found it then. "And it'll take how long?"
Medlin looked up. "You most likely won't have it until tomorrow."
"Fuck."
"Map his life, then go home."
"It's taking too long. We should move in now."
A headshake. "Covering our asses. We can't question him based on what some psychic said. We need the trail. We can't take him to court if there's a risk of evidence suppression."
Nikolai didn't think anyone would care about which end of the yarn they started to untangle. "Will they want to know how we got the trail?"
Medlin shrugged. "Maybe, but it's not illegal to use a psychic's word to start digging. If Gabriela Montes' mother had said she bought the rug off a Facebook ad, we'd have searched for an ad."
"But she didn't."
"Nope, but we're still searching for an ad."
Nikolai went back to his desk and read through everything he could find about Nathaniel fucking Altman.
* * * *