Songbird (Daniel Trokics Series Book 3)

by Inger Wolf

  ”Yeah, and then case closed. And those horses in her dreams became part of the story. She’s the one who brought them back, but it turned out perfect. Maja flips out, hallucinates, everybody’s worried – then she jumps off a building. Tragic.”

  ”It must have been quite a shock, finding her in the park.”

  Simon nodded. ”If it hadn’t been for that idiot Egebjerg moving her, none of this would have happened. Everything would have been perfect. And nobody would have snooped into the past.”

  Suddenly Lisa heard voices far away. Girls laughing loudly. Carried by the wind through the trees. Simon heard them too, and he tilted his head.

  ”Looks like I’m going to have to wrap this up a little bit earlier than I thought.”

  He stepped over and ripped the shirt off her hand. He tore it into strips and tied it around her mouth and head so she couldn’t scream. Then he walked around and grabbed her under the armpits. His cold hands pressed against her sides as he drug her backwards. Again the thorns shredded her skin, ripped her face, but the pain was overshadowed by the terror gripping her. She was going to disappear, like all the rest of his gruesome secrets.

  ”And Anja, that total bitch.” Dragging her wasn’t easy, he was breathing harder now. ”She thought she had it all figured out. She’s always been that way. Always better than everybody, ready to pounce on every little mistake. She suspected I did the horse. Actually she knew, I saw it in her eyes. And she kept sticking her nose in my business. Then when Maja died, she called me, said she knew what I’d done, she wanted money. She was bluffing, but I couldn’t take any chances.”

  Lisa wanted to say that Anja also somehow knew about the greenhouse, that she must have followed Maja that day, but the gag in her mouth made speech impossible.

  Simon let out something resembling a sigh and let go of her. Lisa tried to roll off to the side, but he simply grabbed her again.

  ”I’m really sorry about this,” he said. ”They’ll look for you, but now you know my little secret, I can hardly let you go. This place has been hidden for years, and people searched hard too. With a little bit of luck and a bunch of dirt, my secret will disappear again. And you too.”

  He sat on her and put his hands around her throat. The voices were nearer now. She noticed a wood ant crawling up his leg and wondered what it was doing there, when there were no fir trees around. Then she thought about back when she was a kid, when she hit one of her friends on the friend’s birthday; she was sorry about that. The last thing in her head before losing consciousness was an image of Jacob.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Trokic had handed the real estate agent over to two officers, and now he and Jasper parked in front of The Horse Farm, beside Lisa’s red Ford - she was still there, it looked like, but her phone was off. He had a bad feeling about this; Lisa always called in, always followed procedure. And several hours had gone by since they’d split up.

  They got out and hailed a girl with a small backpack who was about to hop on her bicycle.

  ”I talked to her an hour ago,” she said. ”She was going to walk out to the old orchard over there. I haven’t seen her since.”

  They plodded along the tracks that Lisa had followed earlier.

  ”Nothing but trees and brambles,” Jasper said.

  They yelled her name, but no one answered.

  A half hour later, after following the horse path in the orchard, they stood again at the tractor ruts.

  ”Maybe she walked back and somehow we missed her,” Jasper said.

  When they got back to the farm, the car was gone.

  ”Yeah, we must have just missed her, she’s on her way to the station, or maybe she went home,” Jasper said.

  ”I don’t like this,” he said. ”Something’s wrong. I think we should hang around here a little while longer.”

  Jasper threw out his arms. ”What for? She’s not here, Daniel.”

  ”Let’s wait a while. Maybe she’ll come back.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Lisa’s first thought when she regained consciousness was how strange it was that she didn’t feel alone. Sharp bones, rocks, and limbs were poking her everywhere. She also sensed the life in the rotting compost beneath her. But she wasn’t alone, because someone else here had shared what she was going through. She coughed and pulled off the shirt gagging her with one arm, but she wasn’t able to scream, the pain in her throat was unbearable, and she still had trouble breathing. He’d tried to strangle her, and some of the fragile cartilage in her throat felt damaged. Her left arm throbbed, and she tested it with her other hand; it was lying all wrong. She’d fallen a long ways, and it must be broken.

  The sky above her was black as coal, and she shivered from the cold. The voices in the orchard she’d heard earlier were gone, but she had the feeling they’d saved her life. He’d been in too big of a rush to finish her off.

  She lifted herself up among all the bones. Every part of her ached, and she knew how lucky she’d been not to break her back in the small well. Then she gasped when she remembered what he’d said. Both she and his secret were going to disappear, with a little bit of luck and a lot of dirt. A wave of terror swept through her; he was coming back to fill the well up and put an end to all his little annoyances.

  Lisa slid her hand around the rough stones and started to cry. Her colleagues might already have begun searching for her nearby, but her finding this place had been an incredible coincidence, and it wasn’t likely they’d find it too. She looked up; the top of the well was at least five meters above her, she could barely make it out. With her one good hand she felt around the stones lining the well and grabbed onto a root sticking out. Still crying, she pulled on it. The root was thick and tough, and she lifted herself up off the bottom, but suddenly it broke and she fell back down among the bones. Then she stood with her back against the stones and wedged herself by swinging her feet up onto the wall opposite her. She started wiggling and twisting her way up. The cold, rough stones scratched her back, and she was freezing, but she made progress. Her leg muscles quivered. She thanked herself for all the long runs she’d been taking. All the while, her rage kept building. He’d almost killed her and sent her down into hell, and he’d broken her arm to boot.

  Twenty minutes later, she lay shaking in the brambles, trying to catch her breath. The thorns almost felt welcoming now. Finally she stood up. It was blacker than black around her, but far across the fields she glimpsed a light. The city. How far away was she? And what if she ran into him on the way? She was afraid that tripping over one of all the roots sticking up would give her presence away. For a second she thought about looking for her phone, but he’d probably taken it with him. No, she had to get out of there as fast as she could, before he came back. She glanced around; should she head for the farm? But she wasn’t sure exactly where it was in this darkness, and besides, in her condition she wouldn’t be able to drive her car.

  The car. She felt around in her pocket for her keys, but they were gone. Trokic and her colleagues wouldn’t give up easily, no matter how dark it was, if they knew her car was there. He must have driven it away so they wouldn’t see it. But would they look for her anyway? Something told her that Trokic would.

  She heard a noise, and she crouched down into the blackberry bushes like a scared rabbit. Someone was coming toward her through the orchard, the branches whistling in the silence, and shortly after she heard him clear his throat and spit. A flashlight swept the area like a giant firefly. She pushed her fear as far down inside herself as she could. He reached the well, and she heard a thud, a spade knifing into the dirt, several meters from her. How had he planned to fill the well up without clearing out some of the blackberries or in some way drawing attention to the spot?

  He stepped over to the well and bellowed in anger when he saw the grate had been pulled off to one side. ”Liiiiiiiisa,” he yelled into the old trees.

  The flashlight darted around the trees and bushes. It was only a matter of time
before he found her. A moth flew in her face, leaving a faint trail of dust that tickled her nose, and she almost sneezed. But suddenly he seemed to give up. In the glare of the flashlight, she watched him staring impassively into space. Lisa tried to follow his thoughts. He’d be thinking that she couldn’t have gotten far, that she was in a tight spot without her phone and car. He got down on one knee and did something with the grate. As she stared at his back, a storm of hate rose inside her. This man had killed at least two people and had nearly done away with her too. And if he found her, he wouldn’t hesitate a second to throw her back into the well, back to the skeleton. The memory of the stench down there flashed in her head; though she could barely make out the spade, she jumped over and grabbed it with her good hand. He whirled when he heard her moving through the bushes, but when he spotted her with the flashlight it was too late. She rammed the spade into his face, hard. Hard enough that she felt the impact all the way up her arm. Simon fell back, and his roar was the most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. The sound of wanting to destroy her. He stood and almost stumbled on a root, and she jumped at him with the spade raised.

  She hadn’t had time to imagine what then happened. Simon fell back again, but this time he stumbled over the grate, which clattered noisily. For a second he teetered above the well, then the big man fell with a hollow scream. Something cracked loudly, like a limb breaking in two. Then silence.

  Lisa backed off, shaking now. Her own violence shocked her, and the spade slipped out of her hand. Cautiously she picked up the flashlight and stepped over to the well. At first she was terrified that he somehow might be crawling back up, but when she shined the light down, she realized he’d never be crawling out of there, ever. He lay among the scattered bones, his neck at an impossible angle.

  Saturday, May 30

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Spring had morphed into summer within the span of a single flight. Zagreb had been a pressure cooker when he landed, hotter than normal for the season. He’d rented a car at Avis, and now he drove the narrow roads leading to the small town where his cousin and his cousin’s wife and son lived, at the foot of Medvednica, north of the capital. Where a woman was waiting for him, one he hadn’t seen in almost thirteen years. His pulse was off the charts, and his mouth was dry despite the cola on the seat beside him. What did she look like now? Had what happened changed her, was she a completely different woman? He’d spoken to her on the phone. First a short call, then a longer one, where he talked about what had happened during all those years. At first she’d held back, but gradually she began laughing at his small stories about the family. Finally it had been as if those years had never happened, and yet he knew that everything was different now. And there was a child now, too. A twelve-year-old boy.

  He’d told Jacob about his discovery, and his friend had said that it changed nothing. Sinka hadn’t trusted him to be able to handle the truth, she’d thrown away the love they’d shared. And he had another life now. Trokic was sure that Lisa would be so relieved, and regardless of what she thought, he was relieved too. A woman had shown up, but at the same time a ghost had disappeared.

  Trokic was worried about Lisa. She’d been taken to the emergency room, and they had set her arm, which had been broken in two places. The next day she had showed up at the station to explain what happened. She’d been given a reprimand for checking out the orchard without notifying her colleagues, but that didn’t stop the officers in the department from letting her know how much they admired what she’d done. Taurup presented her with a blackberry pie, a bit of dark humor that fell flat. She wouldn’t be getting a medal, but she’d definitely won points with her colleagues. She was sent home with strict orders not to show up for two weeks, though not before she’d had a long conversation with the police psychologist. Something Trokic felt was useless. Better to let time do its work, to establish distance to the shock she’d had.

  But now Simon Møller was dead, and even though it wouldn’t help the parents deal with their grief, at least the people of Århus and vicinity could breathe easier, knowing a killer was no longer on the loose. And Anja Mikkelsen was still in the hospital, but she’d begun coming out of her coma for short periods of time. The brain damage she’d suffered was most likely significant, but only time would tell. The techs had found blood and DNA from Louise in Møller’s room, and the fact that several years earlier Anja had told her mother about all the stuffed animals there was in itself a good indication of their connection. Statements from Lisa and Michael Tarp, the addiction consultant from Transit, tied up all the loose ends.

  Trokic had celebrated with a good bottle of red wine, and the case had given him an eminently relevant and timely excuse to call Christiane Bach. To tell her the news. Which ended in her helping him with the wine and hearing the story from beginning to end. When he woke up the next day, she was gone, a warm breeze that blew into and out of his bed. The space beside him had felt cold and empty.

  It was almost two in the afternoon when he finally parked the small rented Fiat in the driveway of the pink house. The oleanders were already blooming. He sat for a moment and let the silence fill him. This was also a home. He got out and shut the car door behind him.

  Afterword

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing Songbird. I hope you enjoyed it.

  The inspiration for this book came from different sources. One was my daughter being involved with an animal rights activist movement when she was a teenager. My subsequent research on industrial farming and meat production was the reason why I was a vegetarian for many years.

  Another source of inspiration was a documentary about the South American drug, burundanga, a.k.a. The Devil's Breath from the Borrachero tree. I thought that the idea of a drug which apparently could eliminate free will and wipe the memory of the victim was very interesting. To this date, I'm not sure how many of the mystic stories involving this drug are urban legends.

  If you would like to know more about this, I can recommend the VICE Documentary - World's Scariest Drug which is available on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToQ8PWYnu04

  Thank you for all your support. Don’t forget to leave a review; it means the world to me.

  Take care,

  Inger

  About the Author

  Inspired by the Darkness

  Inger Wolf is an International Bestselling Danish mystery and thriller writer.

  Her first mystery novel, Dark Summer, for which she was awarded the Danish Crime Academy's debut prize, was published in 2006. Since then, her bestselling books have been translated into several languages.

  She loves to travel and get inspiration to her books from all over the world, but lives in the outskirts of the town of Aarhus, the second largest city in Denmark, close to the forest and the sea. In this beautiful place, she got a degree in English and worked as a translator for many years.

  Today, Inger Wolf works as a full-time author. The household also includes a dog called Harry Hole, named after one of her favorite detectives, and a cat called Mis (Kitty).

  Connect with me here:

  www.ingerwolf.com/us

  contact@ingerwolf.com

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  Books by the Author

  On the Side (Danish)

  Dark Summer (Danish, Norwegian, Swedish, German, Dutch, French, Spanish)

  Frost and Ashes (Danish, Norwegian, German, Dutch, Spanish, English)

  The Song Bird (Danish, Dutch)

  The Wasp Nest (Danish, French)

  Evil Water (Danish, French)

  Under a Black Sky (Danish, English)

  Dark September (Danish, English)

  The Perfect Place to Die (Danish)

  Burned Souls (Danish)

  The Crow
Man (Danish)

  Under The Black Sky - excerpt

  For a special sneak peak of Inger Wolf’s Bestselling mystery novel Under The Black Sky, turn to the next page.

  Prologue

  Asger Vad woke up because he wanted an apple. He lay quietly under his comforter for a while, listening to his wife's shallow breathing. Why an apple? Not the most filling of foods, to say the least. And did he really feel like getting out of bed? But suddenly it was very important to get something to eat.

  At least that's what he thought because when he finally got up and went downstairs, he heard Zenna growling softly in her laundry room basket. Maybe that was what woke him up. He stopped for a moment and listened, but since there was no other sound, he headed for the kitchen and the basket of fruit on the kitchen counter. The snow swirled in large flakes outside the window; the streetlight threw fluttery shadows around the chairs and table. Winter had dug in and Asger Vad had no problems with that. If you don't like a little snow, don't live in a subarctic climate.

  His stomach suddenly cramped up painfully at the thought of the message he'd received the day before. How could he have forgotten it? It was as if sleep and a blanket of sheer darkness had shooed reality away for a moment, and an apple had become important. As if his unconscious had put his brain on standby, in a sort of survival mode where it didn't need to deal with the big questions in life. Before long, everything would change, his life would be in ruins. There was nothing to do about it. He felt powerless, angry. Terribly angry. Suddenly, he wasn't sure he wanted the apple. Or anything at all.