Ryker continued to question his decision to leave Henrik as he pulled back the fence and clambered out onto the pavement. Yes, hiding in plain sight had worked for him in the past. The instincts of Erling and the others, having lost Ryker and Henrik on the road south of here, would surely be that the two of them had fled Blodstein for good. They would hardly expect to see the two of them casually walking the town’s streets, would they?
Even if one of the bad guys spotted Ryker, what would they do in daylight, with other people around? Attack him? Shoot him? Stab him? Kidnap him? All possibilities, but all felt unlikely and would only draw unwanted attention to the gang.
He didn’t want to be in this town any longer than necessary, but he also knew he’d find answers here.
Ryker would remain vigilant, particularly with the prospect that the gang had the police on their side.
He passed by few pedestrians on his walk. Where he could he crossed the street to avoid direct contact, and with his head down, no one seemed to pay him any particular attention.
He checked his phone along the way. It had stopped working after their water adventure. Although he’d tried his best to dry it out, along with his clothes, the device still wouldn’t boot up. It was only a cheap burner. The only stored number was Heidi’s – the woman from the ferry. He could remember her number anyway, even if he wasn’t sure he’d ever call her. He tossed the phone into a bin. Even if it came back to life, even if it fell into the wrong hands, discarding it would cause him no problems.
Along with the phone, the only other possessions he’d had on him when he’d left his car in the woods was a pocketful of cash, and the car key (also potentially now water-damaged). Inside the car was more cash, a few clothes, a few other provisions, one British passport in the name of Carl Logan. Nothing that couldn’t be replaced, though he did want to at least try to recover what he could. Everything else he’d come to the country with remained in the safe deposit box in the bank in Trondheim where he’d first headed before leaving on his trip north. There his possessions would stay until he became desperate, or until he moved on. Not yet.
Cash would be the first thing he needed more of. The notes in his pocket wouldn’t last long, but he could get more from his various deposit accounts through a money transfer shop, which he knew Trondheim had more than one of.
Not Blodstein though.
The town was quiet. The selection of shops poor. The convenience store, a few buildings down from the corner café, wasn’t large but somehow contained all of the basic provisions Ryker needed; drinks, food, a penknife, an outdoor coat for Henrik (in the smallest adult size available), a cheap prepaid phone, and a basic backpack to carry it all in.
Ryker paid for it all with the crumpled, nearly dry cash, using up more than half of what he had. He received an odd look from the teller. To be expected really. Would the guy make a call to Erling or Wold as soon as Ryker stepped out? Ryker really didn’t know anymore in this strange town.
As he moved outside, Ryker looked up the street, to the police station further along. No sign of any marked cars there.
Darkness was on the way, Ryker knew. He wanted to be back by Henrik’s side before then. But he also wanted to make one more stop first.
He crossed over the road. Glanced back across to the café as he passed it by. Glanced along the long road heading south as he moved over the main crossroads. Kept his head low, his pace a little quicker as he walked on by the police station, the words ‘hiding in plain sight’ rattling through his mind as though the mantra would help him.
He carried on until he reached the library. He looked up at the building. A handsome structure, a touch of the classical with two grand columns at the entrance. Ryker moved up the steps. Pushed open the bare-wood door. The smell of oldness filled his nose. One step inside and he felt he’d been transported back in time several decades.
In his troubled childhood years, Ryker had been far from a bookworm, but a lingering memory in his mind was the smell of the old local library near to the council estate where he spent his early teens. Housed in what had previously been a bank, with high ceilings and ornate internal fixtures, the otherwise downtrodden building had a distinct smell of oldness, both from the fabric of the structure, but also the thousands of books. This library smelled, and felt, exactly the same.
Was it the very essence of a library to smell like that, or did more modern libraries feel... well... more modern?
He moved toward the counter, behind which a single worker – a grey-haired woman – sat, slowly typing at a worn-out-looking computer. She glanced up and gave Ryker a slightly suspicious smile. He smiled back. He’d seen her before, when he’d stopped here briefly the day he arrived in Blodstein. He noticed a look of recognition in her eyes, though she said nothing.
Ryker moved through and into the records room: a dark, wood-panelled space with no natural air or light. Ryker got what he needed from the filing cabinets and sat himself down at the sole terminal. A little red light, on a CCTV camera up in the corner, blinked away as Ryker worked, but he was otherwise undisturbed. It took him more than half an hour with the microfiche, then a further half hour at one of the aged computer screens, searching the free but painfully slow internet, to find what he was looking for. But at least he found it.
He made a mental note then headed for the exit.
Dusk. The street outside was gloomier than ever. Ryker looked left and right as he walked down the steps to the pavement. A figure to his right peeled away from behind a wall.
Ryker paused in his stride, but only for a moment.
‘Pettersen,’ he said.
She was in uniform. On foot. No sign of any colleagues or any car.
‘What is it I should call you again?’ she said as Ryker walked off down the street, retracing his steps. Pettersen followed alongside. ‘James? Carl?’
‘Call me whatever you like.’
‘I thought you’d left here?’
‘You thought you’d run me out, you mean?’
‘I wish you hadn’t come back.’
He looked at her and winked when she caught his eye. ‘Liar,’ he said.
She smiled. Sort of.
He thought about asking how she knew he was back. Had she simply spotted him walking around, or had someone tipped her off? The fact there was no Wold, no cavalry to take Ryker down, or at least into cuffs – for what, though? – was a good sign.
A sign he could trust her? He still wasn’t sure about that.
‘You’ve been out in the rain,’ she said, looking straight ahead now.
He didn’t respond.
‘Your coat,’ she added after a few silent steps. ‘It’s really wet. I can tell. Although, I don’t remember it raining today. Strange.’
Ryker still said nothing.
‘Where are you going to, anyway?’ she asked. ‘The hotel is the other way.’
‘I’m not staying there anymore. Remember?’
‘So where are you staying?’
‘Is that an invitation?’
He caught her eye again.
‘No,’ she said, blank face.
They reached the main crossroads and came to a stop. The silence dragged out. Clearly something bugged her.
‘What do you want from me?’ Ryker asked.
The lights turned green and they moved across to the other side.
‘I’ve been hearing some things,’ she said. ‘Not nice things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as an outsider causing problems here. Trespassing. Attacking some of the locals.’
‘Didn’t we already clear this up?’
‘I’m talking about today, not last night at the bar. I’ve also heard some nasty rumours. Of a boy. Kidnapped. Being held against his will.’
Ryker looked down at her again. She remained staring straight ahead.
‘That sounds like something the police really should investigate,’ Ryker said.
‘I said the same thing to my boss.’
‘Wold? And what did he say?’
‘That he was concerned by the rumours. That he was looking into it. That any information I had, needed to go straight to him.’
Ryker said nothing as his brain rumbled.
‘Do you know anything about this?’ Pettersen asked. ‘I’ve heard the boy’s name is Henrik. The same as the boy you were asking me about.’
Ryker stopped walking. She did too. They faced each other. A pickup truck trudged along the road behind Pettersen. Ryker eyed the driver as it passed by. No one he recognised.
‘So?’ Pettersen asked.
She was either someone who could genuinely help, or simply a good actor. Part of Wold’s dirty little gang, sent to play games with Ryker to help find the boy. Ryker had to find a way to figure out which option was true. An ally could prove crucial.
‘What’s in the bag,’ she said, indicating to his shoulder. ‘Looks new. Very full too.’
‘Food,’ Ryker said. ‘Haven’t eaten all day.’
‘Must be enough for two in there.’
‘You mean you want some?’
‘No,’ she said, her voice more stern. ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’
An awkward silence built up. With darkness looming, Ryker wanted nothing more than to get moving and back to Henrik, but how was he supposed to get away from Pettersen now? Or should he take her with him?
‘Where are you going to?’ she asked.
Ryker’s lack of answer only added to the look of suspicion on her face.
‘If you need help–’
‘I’m staying at the hotel by the water,’ he said. ‘A step up from Blodstein Gjestehus.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said.
Ryker shrugged. Pettersen opened her mouth to say something else. Then her radio crackled to life. Pettersen lifted the device from the strap on her chest and rattled off a response. The conversation carried on for a few seconds before she pulled the radio away from her mouth.
‘That was Wold,’ she said. ‘I didn’t say anything to him about seeing you.’
‘Why would you?’
‘Because earlier he asked me to.’
‘Why would he ask that?’
‘Good question. Anyway, I have to go. I’m needed.’
With that she turned and broke into a jog as she headed back toward the station.
Ryker watched her for a few seconds before he got on his way too.
At that moment, he knew for sure he wasn’t staying in Blodstein another night. One way or another, he and Henrik were leaving.