Chapter 28
Frode woke to voices, then Hjalmar was cursing. Loudly. He forced his eyes open and looked around. Hjalmar and Elmore were near the door; Elmore more serious than Frode had ever seen him, and Hjalmar pale and tense.
Fear took hold of him. "What happened? Where is Nikolai?" He looked around the room to make sure he hadn't missed him somewhere.
Hjalmar hurried over to the bed when Frode tried to sit--not a great motion when someone had stabbed you in the stomach.
"Easy." Hjalmar put a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him back down again.
"Where is Nikolai?" Hysteria clung to his words.
Elmore walked to the opposite side of the bed from Hjalmar. "Nikolai is fine. He's downstairs getting his calf stitched up."
"What?" Frode looked between them. "What happened?"
"He went home to shower and change, but Saylor attacked him in the staircase."
The sound leaving him was one of anguish.
"He's fine." Elmore patted his arm. "He shot Saylor in the leg though, so it might take some time before he can come to see you. I assume Agent Green and Ramirez will catch up with him before he can get here, and then there will be a zillion questions and reports to write."
Frode groaned. "What about Saylor?"
Elmore shrugged. "He should be here too. I suspect he'll need surgery. It's how it most often goes with a gunshot wound in the thigh."
"He's here?" There was a quiver in his voice. He didn't want Saylor anywhere near him.
"Don't worry. There are officers surrounding him at all times."
Hjalmar squeezed his shoulder. "He attacked a detective, Frode. There will always be someone with him."
"Because attacking a psychic wasn't bad enough?" Frode glared at him, and Hjalmar grinned.
"It was, but cops don't take kindly to have one of their own attacked."
"Saylor is a cop too."
Hjalmar scoffed. "He's a murderer, a serial killer."
But he'd killed to get Frode's attention. A wave of nausea washed over him. Before he could put words on it, an attractive Hispanic man in a suit knocked on the open door and strode inside. "Frode Bakke?"
Frode nodded.
"I'm Agent Ramirez. Are you well enough to answer a few questions?"
"No, he's not." Hjalmar straightened to his full height and glared at Ramirez.
Ramirez raised his palms. "We'll keep it short, but if you could tell me what happened, it would be of great help."
"How is Nikolai?"
"Detective Nesterova will be fine. He's in the middle of getting stitches as we speak."
Frode took a deep breath and nodded, but exhaustion was starting to tug at him again. Maybe Ramirez saw it because his expression softened a fraction. "Can you tell me about Saylor coming to your house?"
Frode did. He explained how he'd been tired after having read the rug and had fallen asleep on the couch.
The knock had woken him, and when Saylor had wanted to come inside, he'd walked out on the landing and closed the door behind him to keep him out.
He told them what Saylor had said about Altman getting off on scaring women, and how he'd held them down for Saylor, but how he hadn't liked the blood.
Frode would guess it was death Altman didn't like, though who liked blood? He might be a monster who liked creating fear, but maybe killing was a step too far for him.
"Do you know how they know each other, Altman and Saylor, I mean?" Ramirez was scribbling on a notepad.
"No."
Ramirez nodded. "And then he stabbed you?"
"He said he had to kill them to get my attention, but that it was too late for us now, or something along those lines. Then he sliced my belly. I didn't feel anything at first, thought maybe it was a trick knife, you know?" He looked at Ramirez. "Then I started bleeding."
Ramirez nodded. "You're lucky. I talked to your doctor, and while infection is a risk, no vital organs were harmed."
"Lucky?" Frode huffed.
Ramirez looked directly into his eyes. "If he'd wanted to kill you, you'd be dead now."
Frode stared at him, stunned. "You think...He didn't mean to kill me?"
A shrug and a sigh. "Jaxon Saylor isn't a sane man but given he cut the throats of his other victims, I'd say something in him recoiled at killing you. He could have."
Frode recalled falling to the ground, how he'd looked at Saylor's shoes. He could've sliced his throat then. Frode had been too out of it to try to protect himself. He nodded slowly. "He stood over me for a few seconds. I don't know for how long. It's all a melted blur before things went dark."
Someone squeezed his shoulder, and he snapped his eyes open, not realizing they'd closed. Hjalmar looked ready to tear the world apart, so Frode patted his hand. "I'm fine." Then he grimaced. "Fine-ish."
It earned him a small smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Bakke. We'll go through everything in more detail when you're feeling better."
"There isn't much more I can tell you. I don't know what time he came. I woke to the knock and stumbled to the door."
Ramirez nodded. "We have a pretty good idea of the time. Elmore and Nesterova saw him drive off."
"Oh." He glanced at Elmore, who looked grim.
"I better go get Green." Ramirez pocketed his pen and gave Frode a nod. "Speedy recovery."
Elmore sighed as he left the room. "I bet Nikolai is ready to kill Green by now."
"Is he bad?" Hjalmar watched the empty doorway as if he contemplated running after Ramirez to save Nikolai.
"The worst. Medlin believed they sent him to punish him for having sat on the case for so long."
Hjalmar snorted. "Nice."
* * * *
Nikolai would murder someone soon. He was tired, he was in pain, and he wanted to go upstairs to check on Frode. Hjalmar would have to leave to get their parents soon, and Nikolai was stuck with Agent fucking Green.
Ramirez had returned about half an hour ago, and despite having tried to get Green to go back with him to the station several times, Green stood firm.
"Again."
"Oh, for fuck's sake! I don't know what else I can tell you.
I jogged up the stairs, someone came up behind me, I jumped out of his way and pushed him.
He fell. I saw something metallic in his hand, drew my gun, and kicked the hand.
Then I told the kid to call the police, but when I was distracted, Saylor somehow got hold of another scalpel with his left hand and cut my calf. "
"You knew it was Saylor then?"
Nikolai frowned and tried to remember. He'd described the same order of events so many times now he wasn't sure what he'd known and not. "Yes. I drew my gun, told him to freeze and that I was police, and I met his gaze. I saw it was Saylor. Then the kid came out of the apartment."
"And you shot him when?"
"When he cut me."
"Great. It's all we need for now." Ramirez stepped between Green and Nikolai. Green protested, but Ramirez grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. "We'll be in touch, Nesterova. Don't leave the city."
Nikolai rolled his eyes but slid off the examination table and hobbled toward the door. He was done with this day.
"Detective Nesterova?"
He almost snarled but turned and spotted a nurse coming toward him in the corridor. "Yes."
She held out some papers. "Instructions on how to care for the wound." She looked down at his throbbing leg. "Don't move around. You need to take it easy for a day or two to make sure it doesn't start to bleed again."
He nodded. "I'm only heading upstairs to the surgery floor. My boyfriend is there, on bed rest. Got stabbed in the stomach." It was the first time he'd called Frode his boyfriend, and he didn't know if he was allowed to. They'd spent two nights together. Maybe it was too early to put a name on it.
"May I suggest you keep away from knives in the future, both of you."
"It was scalpels in both cases, done by the same man."
She grimaced. "Do you need help?"
He forced a smile onto his lips. "I'll be okay, thank you. I'm only going to the elevator then it isn't far once I get up there."
She reached out and patted his arm. "Be careful."
He nodded and hobbled toward the elevator.
He was sweaty and shaky when he reached Frode's room, which was stupid. It was only a cut; nothing like what Frode had been forced to endure.
"Nico." Frode's voice cracked, and he hurried inside, trying not to grimace as his leg throbbed.
"Hey, baby." He leaned over the bed and kissed Frode's forehead, but when he tried to move away, Frode clung to his arm.
"What happened?"
Nikolai squeezed his hand. "Let me sit."
Hjalmar and Isaac moved out of his way so he could sit in the armchair. He removed his shoes and rested his feet on Frode's bed. His leg still throbbed, the anesthesia melting away by the second. He grimaced.
"Are you in pain?" Hjalmar watched him with narrowed eyes.
"Anesthesia is fading and walking here was a bit much. I'll be fine, though."
Frode didn't look happy, so Nikolai smiled at him. "I'm okay, promise."
"What did Green say?" Isaac grinned at him.
"What happened with Saylor?" Frode spoke before he could answer Isaac's question.
Nikolai scrunched his nose. "He attacked me on the stairs.
I don't know if he snuck in after me or was waiting near the basement or what.
I didn't see him when I entered." He didn't go into detail but told Frode and Hjalmar what had happened.
Isaac most likely knew already. Then he told Isaac about the interrogation with Green, and how Ramirez finally had enough, grabbed him, and walked them out of there.
"Ramirez was pretty nice when he was here." Frode glanced at Hjalmar as if to make sure he hadn't dreamed up Ramirez. Hjalmar shrugged in reply, which made Nikolai believe he had been. Hjalmar would've thrown him out otherwise.
"I need to get going if I'm gonna make it to the airport in time." Hjalmar patted Frode's shoulder, then he looked at Nikolai. "You'll be here?"
"Yeah, I don't think I'll be walking anymore today."
Hjalmar nodded. "Want me to bring you clean clothes?" He nodded toward Nikolai's blood-soaked jeans.
"That would be great."
Hjalmar held his hand out, and it took Nikolai a moment to realize he wanted his keys. He handed them over, and Hjalmar left. Isaac only stayed a couple of minutes longer before saying he'd head to the station and see how many people Green had upset, and if Medlin needed his help.
A few seconds later, he and Frode were alone in the room.
"How are you feeling?" Nikolai wanted to crawl into bed with him, but he didn't think it was a good idea.
"Exhausted."
Nikolai nodded and gently rubbed his thigh with his foot. "Rest, darling. It's over. Nothing else will happen."
"I know, but then it's like I forget and fear washes over me."
Nikolai nodded. He suspected it was a natural reaction to having been stabbed. "There is still a police officer out in the corridor, Saylor is being watched, and I'm here."
"What about you? Are you...will you go back to work?"
"Not today. The nurse said I should be careful with my leg for a day or two, and Medlin told me to stay here. I'll talk to him tomorrow and see if I need to go in for something, but I think I'll have a few calm days."
Frode bit his lip. "Do you know how long I need to stay here?"
Shaking his head, he caressed Frode's thigh with his foot again.
"No, I don't think they've said. The surgery went well, and you were lucky the blade didn't puncture anything vital, but there is a pretty high risk of infection, so they're gonna keep you until they know you'll be okay. I suspect several days. A week maybe."
"Ugh, I'm already bored."
Nikolai grinned. "I'm glad you're well enough to be bored."
Frode gave him a soft smile. "It's all pretty scary, huh?"
"Fucking terrifying."
"But we're fine." Frode reached down and patted his ankle. "We'll be fine. You'll go back to catching killers, and I'll go back to reading bullet casings for Hjalmar. Easy work. No more rugs."
"No more rugs."
They shared a look, then Frode looked around. "Has no one brought me raisins?"
Nikolai chuckled. "I'll text Hjalmar." He got his phone out.
"Are we...Mom and Dad will be here in a while, and I don't know what to tell them."
"About what?" Nikolai typed out a text to Hjalmar and hit send.
"Us. Are we...like dating or what?"
Nikolai took in the blank face. "We're whatever you want to call it."
Frode huffed. "So...seeing each other?"
"I called you my boyfriend down at the ER. If you're not comfortable with the term, that's fine, but you're mine."
Snorting, Frode melted into the mattress, his eyes half-closed, and Nikolai suspected he'd drop off any second. "Yeah?"
"Yes. Mine."
His eyes closed and the tension bled out of his face. "That's nice." The words were slurred. Nikolai wanted to get up and kiss him, but his leg was hurting, so he stayed where he was and watched as Frode succumbed to sleep. He didn't care what term they used as long as he got to keep Frode.
* * * *