Page 10 of Psychic Obsession
"I don't think there is a work force more prone to racism, homophobia, and other kinds of discrimination."
"No, we work against those things."
Frode gave him an unimpressed look."You're hunting drug dealers, don't kid yourself into believing you're doing a good job for the queer community."
Hjalmar glowered at him, but most of the anger had evaporated.Hjalmar got angry, but he didn't stay so for long.
"Did she say anything homophobic?"
"No."And to give her some credit, she never did.He didn't think she was a homophobe, only scared of the unknown.
About one in ten thousand were psychic, and there was no genetic component anyone had managed to find to tell if a kid would be born with a talent or not.But despite there being so few of them, psychics were feared.They made people uneasy.
It was ridiculous considering Frode couldn't do anything with his skill to anyone.Skills varied, and there were people who could affect others with what they could do, but Frode wasn't one of them.
"So what am I doing here?"Frode shoved his gloved hands into his pockets.
"Eh..."Hjalmar looked confused for a second."Oh...I figured we could have lunch."
"Two days in a row?It wasn't a hard reading.I'm fine."
"No, I know.I...Look, would you come with me to a crime scene?It's been released, so there are no tapes or anything."
Frode didn't move.He went to crime scenes on rare occasions.If they wanted him to read something they couldn't bring to the station, but most often he didn't go near them.Most often he didn't know what the case was about.He pointed at pictures, told the agents or detectives who had touched the item they'd brought him.If they didn't have a photo, he sat down with Mr.Yeager, the forensic artist, for a composite drawing.
"Why?"
"It doesn't make sense to me.Iwon't ask you to touch anything there, but could you stand there with me and think."
A strange request, and he had no idea what he possibly could do to help Hjalmar, but he shrugged."Sure."
* * * *
Chapter 3
It had been four days, and Nikolai was snarling more than uttering real words.Isaac and he had read and reread everything Bedell had gathered concerning the murders, they'd talked to neighbors, friends, and relatives, had made timelines for the victims' movements, had checked schedules, emails, and text messages, and they had nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
There wasn't a single crossover in the three women's lives.No interaction, no overlapping friends, they'd never gone to the same school, they'd never worked at the same place, they lived separate lives.
The only thing tying them together was that all three had their lives stolen from them, and all three had been placed on a rug in their living rooms.
Nikolai snarled again and threw himself into an office chair.It rolled away with the force of his landing.
Isaac gave him an unimpressed look from the other side of the table.They were in the same conference room they'd been in when they'd talked to Medlin.There was a whiteboard Isaac had filled with photos and Post-its.Nikolai studied it from afar.
"Is it the rugs?"
"What?"Isaac's gaze jumped between him and the whiteboard.
"The rugs.Do you have a rug in your living room?"
"Eh...no, but I think normal people do."
Nikolai slowly widened his eyes as he stared at him."And you're not a normal person?"
"I hate vacuuming."
