"We shouldn't.There is nomaybeabout it."Then he reached out and brushed his fingertips over the rust-colored edge of the rug.
Elmore was the first face to take over his awareness.Next was a woman he had seen several times before--the evidence lady.His mind skimmed over her, already having her stored.Dubose, Saylor, another forensic tech, whose name he didn't know but had seen before.Saylor again.A man.White, round-faced, which gave him a boyish appearance despite most likely being in his mid-forties, auburn short hair almost tipping toward red, hazel eyes.He was replaced by a dark-haired Latina woman.The man again.Another man, dark-skinned, handsome.A woman, white, chestnut hair and dark eyes.And on and on it went until he couldn't breathe, until his brain screamed for a break.
* * * *
Chapter 8
Nikolai watched through the two-way mirror as sweat pearled on Frode's skin.He stared straight ahead, his eyes unmoving.
Isaac had removed the rug and put it out of Frode's reach a moment after he'd touched it and sat waiting across from him.When a drop of sweat trickled down the side of Frode's face, he winced.
"Frode?"Isaac's voice was soft and filled with worry.It made Nikolai hold his breath.
No reaction.
A few seconds later, Frode started to shake.Nikolai blew out a choppy breath.Fuck.If he was faking, he was a good actor.Frode snapped his teeth together, his jaw tense, then Isaac made a sound before cursing loudly.He shot to his feet and gripped Frode's shoulders.
"Frode?Hey, man, are you in there?"Isaac looked toward the mirror."Are you there, Nikolai?I need tissues and a bottle of water."
Before Nikolai could move, Frode threw up all over the table.Isaac moved fast.He got the rug out of the way and saved both Frode's glove and the box of raisins.
It looked as if Frode would faceplant in the vomit, but Isaac caught his shoulders and managed to get him to slump back against the backrest instead.His hair was damp with sweat, as if he'd been in a sauna.
"Nikolai?Something to clean up with, please."
Fuck.Nikolai got moving.He hurried out of the room, found a bucket and some cleaning supplies.Before he made it back, Hjalmar came running through the entrance.His eyes were stormy; his fists curled at his sides.Fuuuck.Nikolai winced, and apparently, it was all the confirmation Hjalmar needed.He stomped toward him, and Nikolai straightened his back.
"If he's not okay, I'm gonna fucking kill you."The icy tone wasn't one he'd ever directed toward Nikolai before.
"He's...eh..."
"Where is he?"
"Interview room one."
The impact as Hjalmar moved past him was akin to something you'd see on a hockey rink, but Nikolaididn't retaliate.Instead, he hurried after Hjalmar, bucket in hand.
As they reached the room, Isaac sent them a pleading look.
"How long?"Hjalmar shrugged out of his jacket and threw it in the corner behind Frode, then he rolled up his sleeves.
"A few minutes.I'm not sure how long.Feels like ages."Isaac moved away to give Hjalmar room.The room stank of vomit, and Nikolai stared at the cleaning supplies in his hands.Urgh.He turned and left the room only to come back moments later with a window squeegee.
Holding the bucket to the edge of the table, he scraped the surface while breathing through his mouth.Once he'd gathered up what had once been a spicy halloumi burger, he left the room without a word and went to the bathroom to get rid of the contents of the bucket.
Minutes later, when he reentered the room, Isaac had sprayed down the table and was scrubbing it.The scent of someone having been sick was almost conquered by lemony detergent.
He looked over at Frode and Hjalmar and realized Frode's eyes were focused.Hjalmar was guiding him through some breathing exercises.
When Isaac left to put the cleaning supplies away, Nikolai followed him.
"Is it always like this?"
He shook his head; his lips pressed into a thin line."I've seen him throw up once before, but not until after he came back into himself.That time, he grabbed a trash can, retched, apologized, and went to dispose of it.Nothing like this."Isaac stopped by the sink in the small kitchen and washed his hands."He bit himself.It was why I asked for a tissue.There was blood on his lips.I don't know if it's his lip or his tongue, but then he got sick, so...a tissue was too little too late."
"What happens now?"
Isaac shrugged."First, he has to come back to himself.Then we'll see if he can tell us anything.We don't have any photos lined up to show him.No suspects, right?So maybe we should call in Mr.Yeager."
