by Inger Wolf
"Where's Europa now, Isa?"
"Like me, she's on a long journey. She couldn't come along on mine. Everyone I care about seems to die…"
The forest around Trokic was fading out. He stood erect in an awkward position, close to blacking out. Was the hissing in his ears from the wind or the blood pumping wildly through his veins? He reached for the tree beside him for support. He had to distract her, disarm her.
"You're sick," she said as if she were a child who had found a wounded animal. "I hit you too hard back in the apartment," she added, blaming herself. "But I know you realize it was necessary."
She fell silent. For a moment, she again seemed lost in thought, until he noticed the focus in her eyes. She was listening. He strained to hear through the hissing sound, and finally, he picked up something faint from high over the steep slope: the blessed sound of a car approaching.
"Seems that it's time we were saying goodbye," she said.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
"There's his car!" Lisa yelled. And it was his car, parked not far from them, beside a blue Toyota—hers? "We're too late."
"Which way?" Jacob said. His voice was flinty now, focused.
She pointed at the steps to the left. They would be visible, vulnerable, but there was no other way down the slope. Lisa's lavender jacket felt like a neon sign, and she took it off and threw it on the landing, despite the howling wind and rain. She peered down at the hundred or so steps, then further at the strip of woods separating them from the shoreline and foaming sea. Tall bushes lining both sides of the steps bowed to the gusts of wind.
"Be careful, the steps are slick," Jacob said. Slowly, he led the way down the old wooden planks.
There was no warning, nothing other than a short gasp when Jacob slipped in front of her. She screamed and ran down the final steps to the bottom, where he lay crumpled up. Only when she leaned over him did she see why he fell—a splotch of blood had soaked through his thin jacket, in the middle of his chest.
"Get down," he snapped, obviously in pain. He breathed rapidly as he struggled to hold his head up and spot the nearby shooter. Lisa was dizzy and insanely frightened for him, for them.
"Where?" she said.
He pointed southeast, not toward the shore but to a row of trees closest to the water. She heard a whistling sound, the plunk of another bullet in the bush behind her. This time she'd heard the shot faintly, and she whirled to grab her gun. She would have to leave him.
"Be careful, Lisa," he said.
He lay beside her with his hand pressing hard against the wound, but the blood kept dribbling out. She let out an agonized scream, threw herself to the ground, and called for an ambulance—but would they make it in time? For a second, she couldn't decide; safety was their first priority, helping a colleague, and there was nothing she'd rather do, but they were exposed. Isa was surely on her way to her car, and Lisa had to stop her. She hunched over and ran to an old tree she instinctively believed could shield her, given where the shot had come from. She had no idea if Trokic was still alive somewhere in the area. The rain felt like a waterfall; her clothes were soaked, her hair stuck to her face. She leaned her head against the beech tree's rough bark and plotted how to get to the next tree, four meters ahead and to the right.
Another bullet smacked into the tree a few centimeters from her. This time, though, she saw Isa's sharp silhouette against the clearing in the woods, moving toward the only way up from the beach: the steps. Lisa crouched further down and aimed at the woman; if she found Jacob, which she would, she'd kill him. The thought that he might already be fatally wounded was like a knife in her gut.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
He heard the thunder far away, though something sounded wrong. Too muffled, dull, and it startled him when he came to and realized it wasn't a natural sound. Rain poured down through the treetops. Trokic rubbed his face and squeezed the rainwater out of his eyes. For a moment, he thought she'd left until he spotted her in the woods. He tried to sit up and get to his feet by hanging onto the tree he'd been leaning against. There wasn't much time; he had to maneuver around in front of her. But she noticed him moving before he stood up, and she headed northeast. She'd passed up her second chance to kill him as he lay helpless. Why? Did she want an audience? For him to admire her?
The thought drove him to his feet as he tried to anticipate her next move. Several other places along the beach had steps up the steep slope, but without her car, she'd be on foot and vulnerable. Another shot rang out through the rain, this time from farther in the woods. Lisa.
Isa was vaguely visible to him as she ran out to the beach and down the rocky shoreline. He reached the end of the dark woods, and his colleague stepped out from the trees.
"Are you okay?" Lisa said.
"Yeah."
They watched the fleeing woman. She was in good physical form, and Trokic was much too weak to even consider following her.
"Take care of Jacob, he's up by the steps, he's been shot, and I called for an ambulance."
Lisa sounded desperate, and he nodded. "Did you call for backup too?"
"Yes, they should show up any time now."
She took off to follow Isa Nielsen; after a few seconds, she vanished. He shivered at the thought of how close he'd been to death as he struggled through the underbrush over to Jacob. He ran the last few meters when he saw Jacob was unconscious and badly hurt. Even in the hard rain, it was obvious he'd lost a lot of blood. Trokic bent over the motionless man in front of him.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Lisa could only make out the silhouettes of the large rocks that sectioned off the beach every hundred meters. She ran under cover of the stone dike separating the beach and the woods.
In the short time Lisa had spoken with Trokic, the woman had gotten a sizable head start. Lisa was nervous when she couldn't spot her on the broad beach; she felt certain the killer would try to get to her car at the rest area since she knew she couldn't get far on foot.
She reached a break in the dike where a short, wispy path led back into the woods. Without thinking, she followed it.
He noticed a movement, which in his half-numb state of anxiety was enough to make him duck and cover Jacob's body with his own. But it was only a bird, a jay scurrying under a nearby bush. Alert now, he realized the steps were the best way to get to the cars above them. He glanced around; he wanted to move, they were too exposed, and Isa might return at any time. But Jacob's condition meant that moving him could be just as dangerous. His face was pale gray, his breathing weak and irregular. The jay rustled around in the bush. Trokic pressed hard against Jacob's chest to slow the bleeding.
He knew who was pressing lightly against his back before he turned around.
"You keep getting in my way, Daniel."
Her hand trembled slightly. "You can see my problem, can't you? I need to get up the steps, and before long, your colleague will discover I backtracked, so I'm in a bit of a rush. And I can't turn my back to you. I'm sorry, but I have to do this."
The woman behind him pulled the trigger, and he fell.
Chapter Seventy
Lisa sprinted the final stretch to the two fallen men as soon as she heard the sirens approaching. Backup arriving. Maybe the ambulance too? A single glance at Jacob told her that the next few minutes would be crucial. She held back her sobbing and checked Trokic. He moaned slightly when she touched his arm, then he sat up and spoke through clenched teeth.
"It's not serious, I'll be okay. We can't let her get away; I have to go after her. Stay with Jacob."
Lisa heard a car starting in the distance. Thinking about Jacob almost made her faint, plus she saw how Trokic's anger ignited him. He gasped for breath and felt around on the ground.
"My car keys."
"Here." She handed them to him. "I think she has a blue Toyota."
"Call in, tell them to set up a roadblock at the end of the forest, if they can."
She nodded. In a burst of energy, he ran up the steps.
He threw himself into his Peugeot, shoved it into first gear, and peeled out of the rest area, sending up a shower of muddy rainwater and gravel behind him. It was a seven-minute drive into town on the winding road. With luck, a patrol car would have her blocked off in the other direction.
Trokic floored it. Though the windshield wipers were on full blast, rain still blurred the windshield. A third of the way through the forest, he slowed down and pulled off on the shoulder. The hectic driving had stunted his rage, and his brain kicked in again. Isa wouldn't dare drive all the way back to town. She'd try to avoid the open city and any roadblocks. He checked his rearview mirror; how many rest areas and forest roads had he passed? Three at the most. Immediately, he turned around and drove back, slower this time. He rolled down the window and peered into the dark forest for some sign of her vehicle. Every second meant she was farther away. He drove by a narrow road leading into the forest, but it was blocked by a barrier, and there was no sign of the car. He felt dizzy, and the bullet wound hurt like hell. At least the bleeding was minimal.
Doubts nagged at him. If Isa had headed to town anyway, she could have taken the first road southwest and blended in with the evening traffic. With a little bit of luck, she could already be on her way. And she could easily vanish into the crowd when she got rid of the car. In his mind, he saw Jacob's pale face again and a jolt of pain shot through his stomach. He passed the next road on his right, also blocked by a barrier. How far back had he driven? Halfway? He stomped on the brakes when he glimpsed something blue. Or was it just a road sign? He backed up slowly to the small road and peered into the darkness. Then he saw it. Not far from the highway, the forest road split off in two directions. He maneuvered around the barrier and took the narrow road to the left. A few seconds later, he was stuck in a puddle of mud and rotting leaves.
"Damn!"
He gunned the engine, but two noisy attempts and a stinking cloud of gasoline later, he gave up. It was hopeless. He killed the engine and turned off all the lights. Two patrol cars screamed past out on the highway, followed by an ambulance.
He was in total darkness. A minor waterfall hit him when he opened the door. At least he was outside. He could barely make out the trail in front of him. The blue Toyota was parked fifty meters ahead. Instinctively, he crouched down, but before he reached the car, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to see it was empty. He shivered as he stared straight ahead. The forest was unfamiliar to him and he had only a vague sense of the trail's direction. Isa, on the other hand, probably knew every twist, every branch. Most likely, she'd already found a main trail leading into the city and was gone for good. He hesitated before opening the car door; she might have heard him coming. The handle felt sticky, and when the interior light came on, he saw a reddish-brown splotch on the driver's seat, close to the gearshift.
"Good shot, Lisa," he mumbled to himself.
Chapter Seventy-One
She'd heard the car fly past out on the highway, and she'd heard when it returned. It amazed her that the attractive lieutenant detective, who had drilled her with questions from the moment they'd met, knew so much about the hand and her motives. And now he was horribly close. The pain in her thigh no longer bothered her, it was only an isolated pounding somewhere underneath her, but she knew she'd lost blood. And now the Peugeot blocking her escape enraged her. Before long, the whole area would be illuminated, with barking, slobbering hounds on her trail. And she had only so much strength left. There were noises all around her. Familiar sounds of the forest that suddenly had become threatening, treacherous. Voices.
You look great in those clothes! Kill it, Isa. Kill the fish. Why are you crying?
Isa stepped off the narrow trail and behind several large tree trunks, then she laid her weapon down to press both hands against the wound in her thigh. She was starting to feel weak, drowsy. The old man sat down beside her and took a swig from the metal flask. She could smell the liquor on his breath. A stump of an arm pointed at her.
Why did you do it, Isa? Why? My little girl.
Because you asked me to.
What are you talking about?
May lightning strike me down if I'm lying, you said. And it did, old man. The lightning hit you that day in the forest, didn't it? You lied. You said you wouldn't hurt me. You bastard!
She jerked; she'd shouted that last sentence, and for a moment her head cleared and she peeked up over the tallest stump. The trail was deserted. Where was he, the policeman? Isa laughed to herself. The wind blew through the trees above her, a sweet, inviting rustling of leaves. It was Saturday; her grandmother had given her five kroner to buy an ice cream cone down on the corner. She was freezing and wanted to throw the ice cream away, but the cold seeped in and took over her stomach; her muscles stiffened. She sat up and peered again at the trail. To her right, about thirty meters away, she sensed a quick movement. Isa smiled. She could still make it.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Trokic took off his sneakers and socks. The forest floor was wet under his feet, and icy cold, muddy. Filled with things he didn't want to know about. Despite all that, he had a better sense of where he was stepping, while making less noise. Yet he sensed that now he was the hunted. That crazy woman wouldn't get far in her condition, she would know that, and she would turn against him one last time. He could make out the larger shapes around him. His rage surged again. He noticed several tree stumps ahead, and he stopped mid-step. The forest whispered, the smaller trees swayed, leaves swirled up around him. Slowly, he walked down the trail, waiting for the bullet he was sure would hit him at any moment. Five meters short of the stumps, he saw the hand sticking out on the ground. He sprang forward, zigzagging until he reached the stump and glanced behind it. The woman lay motionless, curled up holding her thigh, and for a moment he thought she was about to die. Then he realized she was staring at him, her face contorted in a grimace. He stepped forward and snatched the pistol she'd laid down so she could press on her wound. Trokic's muscles twitched, and a wave of hate and nausea washed through him as he recalled Jacob's cool skin under his fingers. With both hands on the gun, he aimed at her. His feet were almost numb.
"Stand up!" he said.
A plan began taking shape. It would be self-defense. Two shots in her liver, painful. With the blood she'd already lost, she would be dead before the ambulance arrived. The woman stood up. She was only slightly shorter than he was, and despite her condition, she looked agile, cat-like. Trokic raised the gun and aimed at her again, but he hesitated. This wasn't for him to do. Others would handle her. He breathed out, felt his strength returning, streaming through his body. He stuck his hand in his pocket. "I don't know what time it is, but you're under arrest."
He was about to handcuff her, when Isa let out a deep guttural sound and threw herself at him, smacked into him like a dead weight. He fell back with her on top. A split second later, he pulled the trigger, and the woman's blood began streaming onto his pants, soaking them. He shoved her aside and stood up. She was still alive, her hand moved, but his fear had vanished. And there was nothing more he could do. He stepped back and picked up the handcuffs, then he watched the life slowly ebb out of her. The sirens still wailed in the distance.
Chapter Seventy-Three
It was an ending as well as a beginning, and they'd agreed to have a beer together at Buddy Holly's. Even though it was barely past noon, the Friday crowd flowed in and out. The bar buzzed cheerfully in the background. He could see she was still affected by what had happened. They both were. It all still felt so close. But the most important thing was that Jacob had pulled through. He'd guessed that Lisa and Jacob had something going, even before she told him. He lifted his glass to her, and immediately the chest muscles around his wound tightened painfully. But he was alive. It had only taken a few days to get on his feet again, in fact. They touched glasses.
"Welcome to Department A. I heard you have the office just beside mine."
"Really? So, I'm not homeless anymore?
"
He laughed and shook his head. "Did you deliver the documents to the psychiatric ward?"
She nodded. They'd found Christoffer Holm's contribution to neurochemical research in an envelope in Isa Nielsen's car.
"I hope they'll use it wisely," he said.
"I talked to the head doctor out there. He strikes me as an ethical man. I don't think he'll just publicize Christoffer's research."
"Why not?"
"I read all the material myself, you know. And, of course, the doctor has too. Christoffer didn't want his results to be misused by the pharmaceutical industry, so he must have had very mixed feelings, must have thought a lot about it, what the implications might be. His colleague told Jacob and me that antidepressants without side effects would cause problems. It would be too easy."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Christoffer was afraid it would affect society. It's more complicated than you might think. And I can understand it. What if no one complained about stress that leads to depression, simply because there was a solution to the problem? With no side effects whatsoever? It's important that people stand up and fight against how everything is supposed to go faster and faster."
"It's food for thought, for sure," Trokic said.
"Yeah, no one can really know the consequences."
Trokic emptied his glass and raised his hand to get a waiter's attention. "You want another beer?"
Lisa smiled. "What the hell."
"But what happens now? Will his research be thrown out?"
"The doctor said he'd try to find a way to gain better control over things. That he would meet with the National Health Authority."
