The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (32 page)

Sarah Roberts was dead and Anton was in the same hospital in Silkeborg being treated for something. Probably a self-inflicted injury to have the authorities believe he was defending himself from Sarah.

Ben couldn’t be sure on all the details, but it looked like everything was playing out nicely.

There was one more play in his book, one more layer of security he wanted to create just in case Sarah Roberts wasn’t really dead. According to several reports he’d read on her, she had escaped death dozens of times and helped the police in several criminal cases. She had enemies all over the world and recently a drug cartel in Mexico had been destroyed when they went up against her.

So how could one man, Anton Olafson, kill Sarah with a pillow? It didn’t make sense. Ben had watched the video, but refused to believe his eyes. In a few days, it wouldn’t matter. On Tuesday, he would meet with Jessy, bring her back to his house and murder her. Then he would call her brother, Detective Shawn Bryant, and have him respond to the murder where he was the actual target.

At that point, Sarah would be a footnote. Nothing of a concern whatsoever. The dead Sarah was no concern at all right now, but if she wasn’t dead and he couldn’t source that information, he needed this extra layer of security.

It took him the better part of seven hours to hack into the required government website, add Sarah’s name to it with a photo reference and a brief bio, then remove all traces of having been there.

When he was done, he brushed the half a dozen Mars bar wrappers off his desk, opened another and ate it slowly, despite the toothache that was starting. He’d be dead before the sun set on Tuesday. How bad could a toothache get in that short time?

He bit into the chocolate bar, used the sore tooth to chew, and leaned back in his chair feeling accomplished.

“Do your worst,” he said to his tooth. “I’ve done what I came to do and no one can stop the denouement now.”

Upon the last swallow, he set his fingers on the dirty keyboard and brought up his email program. After attaching several pictures of Anton Olafson and his indiscretions with underage boys to the email, he addressed it to the Skanderborg Police and hit send.

Anton Olafson would burn in hell for what he did to defenseless boys. Just like Ben’s torturers when he was a small defenseless boy. They would all pay for what they did. First, take something from them they love, then destroy their lives. Clara from Anton, then send pictures to police. Jessica from Shawn, then have Shawn up on murder charges.

“Brilliant,” Ben said without pausing as he typed. “Fucking brilliant.”

Chapter 47

Aaron was numb from the news about Sarah. It had been at least two hours since they opened the door. A female officer stepped in and asked if he needed a washroom or a coffee.

His head in a cloud, Aaron took the washroom option. When he was finished, the officer escorted him back to the interview room where a large black coffee sat on the table.

“How long am I supposed to be here?” Aaron asked.

“Not sure,” she said. “I’ll get Bryant to come see you.”

Aaron nodded, not interested in a fight with her. He just wanted out. He wanted to go see Sarah’s parents. Stay with them. Deal with the funeral.

The door closed, startling him. He had zoned out, not even noticing the officer leave.

How could Sarah be dead? They were just together a few short days ago at the hotel. It seemed impossible. He paced the floor, thinking up scenarios that would make it all go away. The information was false. The hospital read the name wrong. Someone was hiding the fact that Sarah was still alive. The information couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. He had to believe she was alive or he’d go insane. The grief would be too much to bear. The heartache. To lose Sarah, his dojo and his freedom all in the span of less than one week was too much to handle.

Until he saw a body, Sarah was alive and well in his mind. That’s what he would go by. She was alive and well. Aware it was a coping mechanism, he’d rather think that way than the alternative.

The door opened behind him. He stopped pacing and faced Detective Bryant and his partner.

They eased inside the room and shut the door.

“Good news first?” Bryant said. “Or bad news?”

“I need good news first.”

“The hospital in Denmark called back.”

“And?”

“They claim there was a mistake in taking a reading of some sort. After a bit of medical jargon, it turns out that Sarah Roberts isn’t dead after all.”

Aaron accordioned at the waist, dropped to the floor and brought his arms up over his head to grasp his hair. On his knees he moaned and bowed twice as if he was praying, taking large breaths in and out.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He hopped to his feet and shook his arms as if ridding them of the grief that had encompassed him moments before. “That girl can’t be killed. Okay,” he took in a deep breath, then exhaled it. “What else?”

“She’s in police custody at the moment,” Bryant went on. “Not sure why or what charges they’re preparing, but she isn’t free to go yet and may not be for a while.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aaron waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll get out of it whatever it is.”

Bryant hitched up his belt and hooked his thumbs in his pant line. His partner wiped his nose and leaned against the door, staring at the ground.

“What?” Aaron asked.

“The bad news,” Bryant said.

“I thought the part about Sarah being in custody was the bad news.”

Bryant shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Aaron.

“Then what?” Aaron said. “Go ahead.”

“We talked to the clerk at the hotel. He claims he saw you and your entourage leave the hotel with Clara. His statement, along with staff who were working earlier in the day, claim there was an altercation in a room on the tenth floor.”

“Room 1034,” his partner added.

“Right. 1034.”

“Ansgar’s room,” Aaron said. “Where he had Clara tied up.”

“Well, according to witness accounts, it’s shaping up to look like you guys barged in, beat a man named Peter Ford and then kidnapped Clara from her room across the hallway. There’s no mention of Ansgar Holm or The Clock anywhere. So far, there’s been no evidence of the assassin even being in Toronto. We also have a witness who claimed you or your friend has a keycard for a vacant room—”

“1134,” the partner said.

“—Right, 1134. That room is fucked up and the bedsheets are tied to the balcony. Anything on that?”

Aaron stepped forward and immediately regretted it. The partner pushed off the door and stared him down. Bryant’s hands slipped out of his belt line.

“Aaron, you’re not cuffed out of sympathy for the burns on your arms. That can change. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this mess. Until we do, you’re staying put. In here.”

“That’s the bad news?”

“No. The bad news is they are preparing charges against you that include the theft of the police car, assaulting a peace officer and murder in the second degree to name a few. The bad news is, you may need to get used to the inside of one of these rooms. By the end of day the charges will be officially filed and by the morning, you’ll have an arraignment. But don’t count on bail. You’re a flight risk. Your passport is probably full of stamps from all the traveling you’ve been doing to the States and Mexico.”

“And what does Clara Olafson say about all this. She knows we saved her. She was tied up in that room with Peter Ford. She knows I didn’t shoot the van driver. Huh? Tell me. What’s her statement say?”

“She hasn’t given one. Still at the hospital. Not sure it’ll matter at this point. Not when there are several witnesses coming forward and video coverage in the lobby of the hotel showing you leave with her, then running back in with a short, wiry-looking guy. Then leaving again through a side stairwell with Peter Ford over your shoulder and the wiry guy in the police uniform that was stolen from an officer who was knocked out by room 1034. Was it you who set those bombs off, too? Come on, Aaron, tell us everything. Clear the conscious, clean the soul.”

“Fuck you, Bryant. Looks like I need a lawyer. Stay out of my face from now on. Talk to my lawyer. I’ve nothing to say to you. You’ve set your mind to what happened and you’re preparing the evidence to fit that dialogue. So fuck you and your horse. You and your partner need to leave. This conversation is now illegal as I’ve asked for a lawyer and you’re still standing there with a thumb up your ass.” The last words came out in a shout, his pent-up emotions coming unhinged. “Get out of here!” he yelled.

The partner opened the door and slipped out. Bryant backed up, an arrogant smile on his lips. Before the door closed, he stuck his head back in.

“You’ll burn for this, Aaron. You’re going down, little boy.”

The door closed and locked.

Aaron let out a breath and dropped back to the floor where he curled up in the corner and tried to calm his breathing.

It would all work out in the end.

At least that’s what he told himself over and over for the next several hours.

Chapter 48

Once in Skanderborg, the Danish police located Anton’s cell phone in his house and were able to watch the video he took as he held the pillow over Sarah’s face. The video made it abundantly clear what had happened. Sarah told Officer Martin to watch very closely as Anton moved away from the camera to grab the little mirror how her chest moved. She was taking on air even then.

They left Sarah and Parkman inside Anton’s guest room while the Danish police conferred in private. While they were talking in the living room, Sarah slipped into Clara’s bedroom and rifled through her dresser drawers. Once she found what she was looking for, she came back out to stand with Parkman.

“What was that for?” Parkman whispered.

“You’ll see.” Sarah smiled.

A superior officer was called in before they drove Parkman and Sarah to the new larger police station being built where the officers were to record their statements. Three large pizzas were brought in.

Officer Martin sat behind his desk, drinking what looked like a cup of tea.

“Sarah?” he said as she finished the last piece of pizza. “Can you and Parkman remain in the area for further questioning if needed?”

“How long?” Sarah asked.

“A week at the max,” Officer Martin said.

Sarah shook her head and swallowed. She wiped her mouth.

“Can’t do it. I’m needed in Toronto.”

“I could detain you until charges are laid against Anton.”

“You could try,” Sarah said. She pointed a finger at him. “But we both know that wouldn’t fly.”

“How do you figure?”

“You have video proof a high-ranking Danish official, Anton Olafson, tried to kill me. My friend Parkman stepped in and saved my life. It was touch and go there for an hour. Danish doctors thought I was dead. They wheeled me down to the morgue. When I call my embassy, you don’t think this blows up in your face and I’m on the next plane out of here?”

As she spoke, Martin’s face reddened with embarrassment. Or was it anger? She couldn’t tell right away.

“You’re right, Sarah. You’re free to go. But I may be in touch.”

“Call anytime.” She headed for the door. “Tak for the pizza.”

“Velkommen. Oh, and leave my office door open.”

She stepped out into the main office of the police station and closed Martin’s door. Parkman was across the room waiting for her by the front doors. He got up from the chair he sat in and headed toward her.

“We good?” he asked.

“We’re good.” She started for the door. “Get me on a plane. Alex and Aaron need me in Toronto before Tuesday.”

“Why Tuesday?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Right.”

When they stepped out into the sunlight, Sarah caught Martin’s eye. He stood near the door to his office, hands on his hips, watching them leave.

“Parkman, we need to be on a plane and off European soil as soon as possible.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“Don’t exactly know. Just a feeling.”

They headed toward an idling taxi by the visitor parking area.

“This new arrangement with Vivian difficult to navigate?” he asked.

“Something like that. Yet there are things I know without a doubt.”

“Like what?”

She stopped beside the cab and faced him. “I can see that we fly back to Toronto together but we don’t want to enter the airport together. Weird, eh?”

He frowned. “Why can’t we be in the airport together?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I have no idea. Just don’t enter the security checkpoint and customs with me or we’ll both be in trouble. Serious trouble.”