Page 39 of Whispers at Dusk
They returned to headquarters, but due to the narrow streets, Mason opted to leave Della in front of their temporary offices and park by their townhome.
Walking the two blocks to the headquarters, he found himself pausing to look down the street.
Lillehammer was small, easily maneuvered on foot in the central area by anyone who didn’t mind walking. Of course, moving toward the outskirts of town was better accomplished in a vehicle, but...
The streets were narrow. Most of the people in the country owned smaller cars than those in the United States. He had learned there were also tunnels that had been dug in the earth for navigation around the country with large circular spaces here and there should a turnaround be necessary. Instead of white light, they utilized blues and greens, changing colors to keep drivers awake and aware in the underground.
Here...the street was quiet. But restaurants and shops were not far away. The man could have come from anywhere.
Then he was swept up by a car, and he could have gone anywhere.
Mason gave himself a mental shake and hurried to the offices. François Bisset greeted him and told him Marlene Rogers had arrived with her parents. They were in the back with Della.
He hurried on to the back and entered quietly.
Marlene Rogers was an attractive young woman, a slim girl with long dark hair and at twenty-nine somewhat younger than Asta. Her head was bowed and she was crying softly. Della sat with her, an arm gently around her shoulders as she tried to tell her she couldn’t have changed anything. The heinous, criminal behavior of another person wasn’t her fault.
The young woman’s parents sat on the other side of the table holding hands, distressed as they watched their daughter.
“Marlene, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, this is my partner, Special Agent Mason Carter. We will find who did this. We’re not alone. We have Norwegian law enforcement in full swing and detectives from other countries as well. You are not responsible!” she said softly but passionately.
“But I left her!” Marlene cried. “I was tired, I couldn’t stay awake, and I had to go back to the hotel. And she was having fun, and I didn’t want to make her come with me.”
Mason walked around to the girl and hunkered down to her level. “Marlene, Della is right. The person who did this is a predator, and we need to be thankful he didn’t take you, too. I think it will be helpful,” he said, glancing at her parents, “if you find a therapist when you get home. What you’re feeling is natural. They call it survivor’s guilt. But please know you couldn’t have changed anything. You might have been lost, too. What you can do is try and tell us everything that was going on when you left. You said she was having fun. With who?”
“We were at the bar,” Marlene said. “There were several people there around our age. There was a blonde woman who was flirting with a few guys. The guys were laughing and then everyone was talking and... I wish I could have stayed. But I was up all day and then I took a night bus to get to Oslo and then drove out and...when I was there, I wished I’d had the energy to stay. But I had one beer, and I was afraid I was going to pass out on the bar. So...”
“You walked back to the hotel by yourself?”
She nodded glumly.
“Marlene, where was the bar?”
“In the center of town, not far from here. Bruger’s.”
Mason glanced at Della. The bar seemed to be a prime location for their killer—or killers.
“I told the police. I told them everything.”
“Of course. Can you tell us more about the people who were there? Was the blonde woman alone, or was she with one of the men?”
“I... I thought she was alone. There were two other girls there, together, and three guys. They were all cute, but two were more...young cute. The third—”
“Did he have dark hair?” Mason asked.
Marlene shook her head. “No, he had sandy-colored hair. He was tall, really good-looking, like movie-quality good-looking.”
Mr. Rogers, a balding man with a gentle demeanor, cleared his throat.
“We’d like to take Marlene home. Yes, we’ll make sure she has a therapist.”
“Please!” his wife, an older heavier version of her daughter, whispered the word.
“Of course, of course,” Mason said. “But we’d like to ask you to do one thing for us, please. We want you to do a video chat with our office in the States. Describe the people who were there when you left the bar. Do you think you could do that for us?”
“We almost had her not crying!” Mrs. Rogers said. “Please!”
“No, Mom, no, I need to do this,” Marlene said. “If there’s anything I can do to help them get the horrible person or people doing this... I have to help. Mom, I have to!”
