The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (31 page)

The coffee was long gone and he needed a toilet. The door opened again and Detective Bryant entered, followed by his partner. Neither man appeared to have been given the benefit of sleep since he’d seen them last.

Bryant sat in the chair opposite Aaron’s while his partner stayed by the door.

“Rest well?” Bryant asked.

Aaron fiddled with his empty coffee cup and spoke without looking up. “Come to release me?” he asked.

“I’m confused about something,” Bryant said.

Aaron waited. He released the coffee cup and sat back in his chair doing his best to ignore his raging bladder.

“Why are you guys involved with someone like Ansgar Holm? Why would such a high-profile assassin be running around Toronto gunning for you?”

Aaron shrugged. “Wish I knew.”

“Are you saying you’re unaware of any provocation you initiated?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Other than what’s in my statement, all I know is I was supposed to get Clara from him and protect her after that. What better way to keep her safe than to have her with you lot.”

“Clara mentioned Sarah Roberts was the girl who originally attacked Ansgar in the hotel room. Then Sarah flew to Denmark. Any reason why?”

“Sarah has her own reasons. I often don’t learn them until after the fact.”

It felt good to be forthcoming. It took a lot of energy to fight the authorities or to lie to them. Maintaining a fabricated story at this point was reckless. They had saved Clara and Benjamin was shot while leaving the hotel. An innocent man was killed. In their panic, they hurt a cop, stole his cruiser and got out of there. Any jury would understand. At least he hoped.

“We looked into Anton Olafson and where Sarah Roberts might be at the moment. You would be surprised what we found.”

That got his attention. He hadn’t had any updates since Sarah left for Denmark. They’d been so busy with Ansgar that he hadn’t even taken a moment to try to get a message out to her.

Aaron leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table.

“Tell me. What did you find out?”

The officers exchanged a glance that appeared sour, demure.

Bryant tapped his fingers on the table.

“Something happened in a place called Skanderborg,” Bryant said.

“Yeah, that’s where Sarah was headed.”

“Well, we’re not getting a lot on what happened in Skanderborg, but we do know that Sarah and Clara’s father are in the hospital in a place called Silkeborg.”

His stomach dropped. “Hospital?”

“Clara’s father has stab wounds. A friend of Sarah’s did it and is to be formally charged within the hour.”

“Sarah’s friend?” Aaron asked. “You mean Parkman?”

“Yeah, that was the name.”

Aaron blew air out of his mouth. This was bad. Very bad. Why attack Anton Olafson? Wasn’t he a good guy? If not, why were they protecting Clara? He shook his head as if to dislodge cobwebs. Did it ever make sense when dealing with Sarah? But that was what he loved about her. The mystery, the intrigue. It all worked out in the end, though. Didn’t it?

“What about Sarah?” he asked. “Why is she in the hospital?”

Bryant pushed off the table and got to his feet.

“Hey,” Aaron said. “Where are you going? Tell me what happened to Sarah.”

The partner opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. Bryant stopped in the doorframe.

Aaron stared at him, gaping.

“I’m sorry, Aaron. There’s no good news to tell you about Sarah.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, sickness and rage brewing in his stomach.

Bryant lowered his head and looked at the floor. All the mouthpiece talk from the hospital was gone. Behind the mask, the bravado, the tough smart-aleck cop, was a humble man. One with a heart and genuine feelings. Aaron saw all that in the expression on the detective’s face and didn’t like it because it meant what he had to say pained him.

“Is she—” Aaron couldn’t say it. He couldn’t ask if Sarah was dead.

“We talked to the officer at the hospital. He spoke good English.”

Aaron slapped the table. “Please, Bryant, tell me what you know.”

“Sarah was brought into the hospital, D.O.A. I’m sorry, Aaron. I really am.”

Aaron slumped down on the chair hard as Bryant shut the door.

Then his world collapsed and he slipped off the chair and curled into a ball on the cold cement floor.

He stayed like that until the interview room door opened again two hours later.

Chapter 45

The Danish authorities were professional and polite. They were prepared to do their jobs and let the courts figure things out. But Sarah didn’t have time to hang around in Denmark to let courts discover she was the victim. Parkman had simply protected her when she was out, or lying dead as the officers kept calling it.

“I’m not understanding what the problem is,” Sarah said.

“Then explain how you came to be at Mr. Olafson’s house.”

They were in a small room the hospital provided. Two police officers remained with Sarah and Parkman while two others had arrived and were guarding the door. As far as Sarah had heard, they were to remain in the hospital until Sarah’s test results came back. The doctor’s wanted to make sure she was okay to discharge. Especially after originally declaring her dead.

The young cop in front of her seemed motivated to do his job by the book. His older partner gave Sarah the impression that this was a training session.

“We already told you that,” Sarah said, trying to keep exasperation out of her voice but failing. “I am here on behalf of Anton’s daughter, Clara. She’s staying with my friends in Toronto when I flew here.”

“Anton claims you’re wearing his daughter’s clothing. He has claimed information in his statement that someone has threatened to kill his daughter and that if information of your whereabouts leak out, his daughter will be murdered.” The young cop—Sarah forgot his name—held his hands out to his side. “Do you understand how this must look to us?”

“However it looks, Anton attacked me. In fact, he killed me. When Parkman attempted to revive me back at the house in Skanderborg, Anton attacked him. Why are we still here? Tell me, why isn’t Anton being arrested for murder, or attempted murder as it stands now?”

The young cop seemed out of questions. He referred to a pad of paper he’d made notes on, scanned something, then looked up.

“What’s your name again?” Sarah asked.

“Officer Martin.”

“Okay, Officer Martin. Are you aware of the high-profile case in Aarhus involving a man named Damien?”

The young cop started at the mention of Damien’s name. He glanced at his partner who pushed off the wall and stepped closer to Sarah. She felt Parkman’s eyes on her.

“What do you know of Damien?” the older cop asked.

“Suicide. While in custody.” She watched their reactions. “It happened just over two hours ago. Virtually impossible for me to know that having been dead and all.”

“Who told you?” Martin said.

Ignoring him, she pushed on. “Damien ran a little underage ring in Aarhus. An embarrassment to the people of Denmark. Correct?”

She suddenly felt ravenous. When was the last time she’d eaten? She licked her lips. Mouth dry, too. Before leaving and finding their way to an airport, she would have to eat a cow. Maybe two. When her stomach growled in hunger, she wondered if they heard it. No one seemed to take note. They were too engrossed in what she had to say.

“Anton Olafson was one of Damien’s top clients. And I can prove it.”

The older cop stepped back again and crossed his arms.

“Really now? And how can you back up such a claim?”

She frowned and looked at Officer Martin. “Is he always like this? Or is the stupid act just for show.”

“Excuse me?” the older cop said, louder now.

“I said I can prove it. That is how I back up the claim. By fucking proving it. How else?”

“Please forgive my English,” the cop said, sarcasm coating every word. “What I mean is, how are you to go about proving that? By what means will you provide us with proof?”

“Pictures. Kept on Anton’s computer. Since erased. I can get them. I know where they are.”

As soon as she said that, she knew it was a mistake.

“How would you know where they are? Or are you trying to establish motive for Anton wanting to kill you?”

“They are on a computer in Toronto.”

“Of course they are, Miss Roberts.” The older cop threw up his hands. “And you think we’re just going to let you walk out of here to fly home and get us this evidence?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. Unless you have charges against us, you will let us leave or our one phone call will be to our embassy.” She turned to Parkman. “Unless there’s a pizza delivery place close by. I’ll call the embassy, you order ten large pizzas. I’m famished.”

Parkman nodded and blinked. “I’ll get the food.”

The older cop paced back and forth. He did this several times, then stopped.

“Why you are in Denmark in the first place is a mystery. What has happened since your arrival is a mystery to me. Your story doesn’t make sense. What Anton did doesn’t make sense. But I can tell you he’s not a murderer. Not Anton Olafson, the director of the NC3. I fail to understand how he would be involved with the man who killed himself in his holding cell tonight as well.” The cop turned to face Sarah. “You have to understand, this all looks like some kind of smear campaign against Mr. Olafson.”

“I can see how it would, but there is one bit of proof left that will prove he is a murderer.”

“What, Miss Roberts?”

“His cell phone. He recorded the entire act.”

The cop put his hands on his hips, his head slightly tilted to the side. “And why would he do that?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

Officer Martin got up from his chair and stood beside the old cop. After a nod between them, without a word, they stepped from the room.

“Not sure how that went,” Parkman said. “You seemed to keep your cool, though.”

“Just hungry. And worried for Alex and Aaron. I don’t like what I saw happening in Toronto.”

“What did you see?”

The door opened and the Danish cops were back.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ve talked to the doctor. Other than a little bruising, you’re fine to leave. Both of you.”

“Where are we going?” Parkman asked.

“To the police station to write a full statement. We’ll decide what charges, if any, will be filed after that.”

“And what about the proof Sarah mentioned?”

“We’ll get to that. We’ll stop at Olafson’s on the way to the police station. His house is still roped off as a murder scene. I want to see what’s on his cell phone myself. Maybe he did record the murder.” The cop shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t. But it’ll go a long way to us trusting you if he did.”

They started out of the room and through the main corridor of the hospital toward the parking lot.

“Never thought you’d get a chance to tour your own murder scene, eh?” Parkman whispered to her.

“Already toured it when I was dead,” Sarah said, a half smile on her lips.

“Does the video exist?” he asked, low enough for only her to hear.

They stepped out the front doors and turned toward the police cars parked twenty feet away.

“Absolutely.” She held her stomach. “Once they see it, it won’t be long before we’re free to leave.”

“How do you know?”

“Some information comes to me like déjà vu now. Like I’ve seen it before and then it begins to happen. I can even see hours, or days ahead. But only certain things. The visions are attached to emotions as well. It’s still very weird. I’ll tell you more on the plane.”

“Are we going to be on a plane soon?” he asked.

“Yes, but there are a few more hoops to jump through first. One we won’t like much.”

“Which one?”

The older cop opened the back door for Sarah. Before getting in, she turned to Parkman.

“All of them,” she said, then dropped into the car.

Chapter 46

PAIN had done it. He considered himself the best man who walked the earth. He had located Aaron Stevens on the hospital computer and found the grid to turn their power off temporarily. A glitch in their software allowed him access, but it came back on five minutes later and locked him out.

Texting Detective Bryant was brilliant. Before he ruined Bryant’s life, he might as well perform like a monkey for Ben. Aaron would be held on suspicion of murder and possibly charged unless a lot of evidence was discovered in his favor.