How the hell was Ryker supposed to know about handling kids? Teenagers? Yes, he’d been one himself many years ago, but he’d been an even bigger shit than Henrik. He had zero adult experience of being around children, up until today when he’d rescued Henrik. To say he felt out of his depth made him feel ridiculous, but what was he to do?
Walk away. That’s what he should do. He knew it. Henrik knew it. Pettersen and Wold knew it. Erling and the other meatheads knew it. Ryker had done his bit. Walk away.
So why couldn’t he?
The engine was on, but Ryker still hadn’t moved. He stared up at the door to the apartment. As though Henrik would have a change of heart any second.
After ten minutes there’d been no sign of anyone coming or going.
Ryker knew exactly what he should do next. He should go find a hotel. Sleep. Get up in the morning and head to the bank to collect his things. Then head on his way.
Yet he knew he wouldn’t do that. Whatever Henrik had said, however strongly he felt that this was over, it wasn’t for Ryker. Those men in Blodstein had kidnapped Henrik. Held him against his will. His captors had chased Ryker down. Sent dogs. They’d burned out his car. Ryker wasn’t finished with them, and he was sure the men weren’t finished either.
Ryker wouldn’t leave until he’d figured out exactly what was going on.
It was getting late, but he’d traveled all this way. He had one more stop to make in this city tonight.
Pushing reluctance to the side, he released the parking brake and pulled the car into the road.
* * *
With the help of the stolen car’s GPS, it didn’t take Ryker long to find the address he’d earlier memorized. The house was a step up from the estate where Ryker had left Henrik, similar in size and appearance to the one in Blodstein where he and Henrik had stolen the car. Ryker clenched the steering wheel a little tighter as he thought about those moments. Henrik had lied to him. Had he enjoyed that? Getting what he saw as revenge on a teacher he didn’t like? Manipulating Ryker in the process?
Ryker let go of the wheel, shut off the engine, and stepped out. He could see no lights on in the house, no car on the drive. The lights from the properties to the left and right suggested the neighbors were home. Ryker moved up to the door and rang the bell. No answer. Not a good start. He stepped back and looked over the house. He moved to the front window and peered in. A lounge. Furniture all in place, but definitely no signs of life from within.
What was he supposed to do now?
He turned and was halfway down the drive toward his car when a figure appeared to his right. A man. Jogging. He pulled to a stop at the edge of the drive next door and leaned over, holding his knees, breathing heavily. Ryker paused and watched him. When the man straightened up and caught sight of Ryker he jumped back.
‘Sorry,’ Ryker said. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
The man took a moment to compose himself. His breathing slowed a little.
‘You’re English,’ he said.
Ryker nodded. ‘Do you know the people who live here?’
‘I know them, yes.’
‘They’re not home?’ Ryker asked.
The man shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen them for a few days.’
‘They had a boy, Henrik?’
The man paused now. His heavy breaths stopped for a few seconds before he let out a long exhale. The warm, moist breath billowed upward into the cold night.
‘They did,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s James Ryker. Henrik disappeared, didn’t he?’
No answer now.
‘I’m helping the family.’
The man looked dubious. ‘Yes. Henrik disappeared. A few weeks ago. The police were here. They talked to me. My wife. We couldn’t help them.’
‘Do you know what happened?’
‘Nobody does. Everyone was concerned at the start, no one knew what had happened, but…’
‘But what?’
‘I don’t think it was anything bad. I’m just a neighbor, but from what people say, I think Henrik just had enough. He ran away. Not the first time.’
‘Not the first time?’
‘Do you know Henrik?’
‘A little.’
‘Then you know what I mean. He’s trouble. I hate to say this, but perhaps it’s for the best that he’s gone.’
The calmness in the man’s delivery astounded Ryker. The suggestion that it was best that a fourteen-year-old boy had disappeared, regardless of why, or what had happened to him? Ryker couldn’t comprehend that, even after the run-in he’d already had with Henrik.
‘And the Johansens?’ Ryker asked.
‘I think they were relieved, really.’
Ryker clenched his fist at that response. ‘No. I meant, where are they?’
‘Oh. Sorry. I haven’t seen them for a few days.’
‘They’re on holiday?’
‘I don’t know. The last I saw them… three, four days ago. There were people here. Some men from up north.’
‘Up north?’
‘I recognized the accents.’
‘What can you tell me about them?’
‘The men? They were… I don’t know, really. What do you want me to say? There were two of them. They drove a Range Rover. Nice car. Expensive. You don’t see many around here.’
The man stopped. Ryker held his tongue, waiting to see if the guy would add anything else. He didn’t.
‘That was the last you saw of the Johansens?’
‘That’s what I said.’ His tone more than a little snarky now.
Ryker decided to quit.
‘Okay, thank you.’
The man, looking a little perturbed about something, stood his ground as Ryker moved for his car.
He jumped in. Pulled off down the street.
Okay, so Henrik was a troubled kid. That much was clear. Ryker had been too. That didn’t mean that Henrik deserved to be kidnapped. And the Johansens were missing? Two men from up north? Ryker didn’t like that one bit.
Earlier, on leaving Henrik in that house, Ryker had been torn as to whether he should be involved here at all.
Now he was absolutely crystal clear.
He wasn’t going anywhere. Whether Henrik liked it or not, this remained his fight after all.