Page 1 of Psychic Obsession
Chapter 1
Frode Bakke pushed a sweat-slicked strand of hair off his forehead and tried to swallow down the bile before it could reach the point of no return.The hair stuck to his shaking hand, and it took a couple of tries to get it out of his face.
He should cut it.Should've cut it months ago.He couldn't remember when he last had his hair cut.Years since a professional had done it, but Hjalmar, his big brother, had hacked off a good number of inches about a year ago.Maybe he should ask him again.Or he could do it himself, if he remembered.
The moment he gained control of his fingers, he slipped on the glove he'd removed from his right hand and reached for the snack-sized red box of raisins.He popped one into his mouth.
The sweet taste was enough of a shock to the system to make some of the nausea disperse but it did nothing about the shaking.
It would go away soon.
Or not.
Some days, he trembled for hours.
With a deep breath, he looked across the table and met Hjalmar's gaze.His eyes were a startling blue in contrast to Frode's brown ones.Sometimes he questioned if they were blood-related.He'd seen the baby pictures, so he was pretty sure they were, but Hjalmar was tall and broad, blue-eyed and blond, with a square jaw and a straight nose.He looked like a Norse god.Frode was slimmer, darker, and not Norse-god-looking at all.
And then there was the fact of Hjalmar's being a normal man, a great one in Frode's opinion, but there wasn't a lick of psychic ability in himwhereas Frode couldn't touch a single thing without being tumbled into the past.
"Anything?"Hjalmar's voice was calm.Hewas calm.Always.Where others lost patience with him, Hjalmar never did.Maybe because he'd seen the aftermath.
Frode raised an eyebrow, not sure his voice would work yet.
In front of him was a bullet, or not a bullet, a casing.Casings were all right.His contractstated he'd touch casings if the police asked him to--and Hjalmar had asked him to.
Frode worked with the police on a consultant contract.It was the best he could do.In a perfect world, he'd spend the rest of his life in his house, never seeing anyone other than Hjalmar, but he had bills to pay, a mortgage, and sadly food cost money.
Hjalmar worked in drug enforcement, tracked dealers and drug lords, and he was the one who most often requested Frode's help.
Frode ate another raisin from the Sun-Maid box.
"Ready to look at pictures?"Hjalmar was already reaching for a folder.
Frode cleared his throat."What are you looking for?"
By touching the casing, the faces of everyonewho'd touched it before him had flitted through his mind.His brain had more faces stored than should be possible, and he was drowning in them.Once he'd seen them, there was no way to unsee them, and he didn't forget.
He might forget where he'd seen them, forgot which object they'd touched, but he never forgot a face.
He'd read somewhere a normal human brain could remember about five thousand faces.If Frode was unlucky, he could get five thousand from one single thing, which was why he refused to touch door handles, anything to do with public transportation, the interiors of restaurants, schools, hospitals, and places like that.
There was a long list in his contract.
Hjalmar opened the folder, spun it, and placed row upon row of photos in front of Frode.
"We want to know who was there.A man was shot to death, we know which gang he's connected to, and we have a pretty good idea where the order to take him out came from, but we don't know who did it."
"And it's important?"Frode hated knowing he'd have a murderer stored in his mind for the rest of his life.Though, this man wasn't the first, andmost likely wouldn't be the last.
"We're trying to get an idea of what's going on.These two gangs used to work together.They both get their product from the same cartel."He shrugged."We need to get to the higher-ups, and the shot guy isn't at the bottom.He's not at the top, but a few steps up the ladder.Every piece of information helps."
Frode sighed.All he could give Hjalmar was a face, but sometimes it was all he needed.
"You have him?You know who he is?"
He didn't knowwhohe was.It wasn't like a name popped up.Frode ate another raisin then dug his trembling fingers into his thighs in an attempt to still them.
"You were the first."Which made perfect sense since he saw the most recent contact first."Then the evidence woman."She wasn't the only one who got evidence out of storage, but it was often her."Then the forensic woman."Considering he'd worked for the police for over a decade, he should know the names of the people on the forensic team, but he wasn't interested enough to learn them, and he only ever saw them for a second.He recognized their faces and could rule them out.Which was enough for him.He never minded seeing them.It was calming to work with the same people over and over again.It made it easier for his brain to handle.
