Page 17 of Whispers at Dusk
“Ah! Well, no alligators here. But we do have wolves, bears, and other carnivores. But you’re most likely to see some squirrels, maybe a few bats...possibly red deer or elk. So, while we’re here under horrific circumstances, I hope you like the land.”
“I’m beyond impressed already,” Mason assured him. “The drive was beautiful, though, yes, the circumstances are horrific.”
“Well then, follow me. There are clearings up here. Sometimes, folks bring picnics. Norway is a beautiful country from our glacier mountains on down to the valleys—and as I’ve said, our crime, our violent crime, is low, and this...”
“I’m sure this is beyond horrific to everyone here,” Della said. “We’re both good hikers, so let’s head on!”
Wilhelm nodded and started off. The walk was a steep incline, but while the path was earth and scattered rock, it was solid and the walk was good. Even as summer neared, the mountain air was crisp and clean, sweet to breathe in and out.
At last, Wilhelm stopped.
Forensic markings remained to show them where the body had been.
“This is the site where we found the first victim,” Wilhelm said. His voice was grim as he stared down at an evidence marker showing where the young woman had lain. “I believe you’ve been given the information we have on Asta. She was a bank officer in Oslo, visiting the woods with a friend from America, showing her Lillehammer and the natural beauty all around. We found her body three days ago—her friend has been asked not to leave, so you may interview her later. The friend is Marlene Rogers from New York City. She cries when we talk—but we’ve ascertained so far that Asta was heading for the mountains and Marlene was just too weary to take the trek. They’d been out doing some drinking the night before.”
Mason looked at Della who was already glancing at him.
“Easy enough path. She wasn’t killed here—she was carried here,” Della said.
“Correct. We have not found the place where this human monster carries out his crimes,” Wilhelm said.
“Where is Marlene Rogers staying?” Mason asked.
“A hotel in town. But she’ll be brought to the station tomorrow afternoon.” Wilhelm paused again. “Asta had just turned thirty. Marlene Rogers is twenty-nine. Her parents arrived to be with her. They are all anxious to help, but naturally, the parents are defensive and protective of their daughter. They are anxious for her to come home, since...well, since obviously. She hasn’t dragged herself out of bed since Asta was taken.”
“Curious. She was coming here. She wasn’t killed here—but she was found here,” Mason said.
“As was Brenna Arud.” He shook his head vehemently. “Two days after Asta was found, Brenna was found! We have forest personnel, we have police, but...things like this do not happen here. In the past years—in all of Norway—we’ve averaged thirty murders or less. Our population is not quite five and a half million, but still. American cities with similar populations are often looking at hundreds of murders per year. We are good, and we are competent, and we’re either friendlier, more stable people or we are dealing with laws better. That said...we don’t have massive units to deal with violent crimes because we so seldom have violent crimes. Still! We had personnel on alert, and yet this monster killed again—and brought the body so near to where he had left the first! Brenna was also here from Oslo, her original home, where she was visiting with her grandparents. Her parents immigrated to the United States when Brenna was ten. She disappeared from Oslo but was found here. That site is just ahead.”
When Wilhelm turned, obviously distraught, Mason set a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, sir. We have cases in the United States in which dozens of law enforcement officers and agents run around wildly trying to catch monsters. Sadly, there are monsters out there who love to take risks and taunt law enforcement. But they do make mistakes. This man—monster, as you say—will make his.”
Wilhelm nodded and let out a long breath. “As I told you, I was here for Asta—when Brenna was found. I can’t help but...”
“You arrived when she was found,” Della said. “There was nothing you could have done.”
He nodded and shrugged. “Thank you. Thank you both. I am the man most frequently called when murders do occur. This just... Well, thank you.”
He hurried on, walking uphill at a slant, and taking a slim path to the right, which brought them to another clearing. Again, evidence markers indicated where a body once lay.
Mason thought of the crime scene photos, of seeing the beautiful young woman as she’d been lying here with her hands folded in prayer.
“There are many of these clearings along the trails?” Mason asked.
Wilhelm nodded. “We have personnel moving through in numbers now—but as you can see, the landscape is rich, beautiful, and can seem endless.”
“We need a few surveillance cameras,” Mason murmured dryly. “Though... Della, we need to call and get any tech footage based on the info we have from Lillehammer and Oslo. With Wilhelm’s help, we can pull from banks and the like. Tourists can often help, too.”
“I believe François Bisset, with Interpol, has been combing through all he can find from Paris and London,” Wilhelm said. “I have had local police put out a call, but as I said, we are grateful for help.”
“Trust me, we’re grateful for help when we get it,” Mason assured him.
“Really? There isn’t a terrible rivalry between the Feds and the locals?” Wilhelm asked, grinning.
“For some, maybe. Not the agents and cops I know,” Mason said. “Della?”
“Pretty much so, we just want to stop the crime,” Della said cheerfully, looking up. She had hunkered down by the evidence markers, studying the exact position where the body had lain, the trees surrounding the area, and the path they had taken. “Wilhelm, only one way up here, right?”
“One path. I suppose you could climb through the trees and brush if you chose, but that would be difficult carrying a body,” Wilhelm said.
