Reckoning Point, стр. 41
Alex nods his agreement, unsure if he’s delighted or not to be included in Erik’s ‘we’. He’s happy to be hands on, but the point of his journey here is to find Elian. If this spate of killings turns out to nothing to do with her, then he’s wasting valuable time.
As half a dozen white suited men group around Erik, Alex takes the opportunity to look around the bedroom. It’s not clean, but it’s tidy. It’s an interesting contrast to Alex’s trained eye. The sideboard top and shelves are covered in a thick film of dust and condensation rings where mugs have been, but all of the girl’s possessions; books, letters and magazines, are all stacked neatly in piles. He extends his gaze to take in the rest of the room and the hallway. The telephone, a few ornaments, a lamp and a radio are all perfectly positioned. Something is off, and before Erik has finished instructing his men on how to proceed, Alex has it; the clothes on the floor. They are out of keeping with the rest of the unclean, but neat and tidy little home. He moves closer and gets on his hands and knees to inspect the pile. It’s dirty laundry, waiting to go to the launderette, he can tell that by the odd food stain and lipstick marks. But against the laminated, light oak floor, at the base of the pile, there’s a collection of minuscule, grey dust and on top of the pile, a few whole pieces of greyish silver stone. He pushes himself to his feet and gestures for Erik’s attention.
“What?” Erik snaps, impatiently.
“Make sure your men don’t miss this,” he points down at the grey matter as Erik steps over to him. “Bag it up, get it tested.”
With that, Alex moves out of the room, smiling a little to himself at the astonished look on Erik Fons’ face.
39
ELIAN & LEV
APARTMENT 1058 GEVERS DEYNOOTWEG
9.7.15 Dusk
After leaving Brigitta and the other girls, Elian spent a long time on the beach. From her vantage point near the pier, she watched the apartment that she knew Lev lived in and she felt her anger build.
Now, as the sun fades into grey, she shivers and covers her slight arms with her hands. Her legs are cold too but it’s a bit of relief after the scorching day.
After hours of thinking about him and the three poor girls that have been killed, something clicked in her head. Even if he wasn’t anything to do with the mysterious deaths here in Scheveningen, he should be held responsible; maybe not for them, if he didn’t do it, but for what he done to her, Elian. Or more precisely, for not stopping what Niko was intent on doing to her. He’s the only one left to be held accountable. Fat Arnja is dead, Niko is dead. Lev is the only punching bag she has. And if he is responsible for murdering Gabi, Cilla and Amber, then he can be doubly punished.
Feeling the flames of retribution, she pushes herself away from the wooden struts of the pier wall, and marches across the road.
After it had happened Lev had fled the apartment. He had jogged around the area, down to the sea to puke into the foam, then as he walked back onto the promenade he’d seen a car, unlocked with the keys in the ignition. Without even thinking that it might make things worse, he slipped into the driver’s seat, roared off down to the main road and drove around and around the same circle of streets for about an hour until he could think straight. When he abandoned the car on Ankerstraat and walked back, he’d been aghast to find that Roland had vanished. Lev had sank into the chair and had not moved for hours. Neither had Joy moved, but of course, she won’t be moving, not anytime soon. Not ever again.
He had known that he needed to dispose of the inert form of Joy as soon as it became clear that she was dead. Instead, he had reached for the stash that Joy had clocked, lit up a joint and sucked on it frantically.
At some point Roland sidled in the door and tried to talk to him, but Lev batted him away. He didn’t know why he was still there, it was all his fault anyway, the boy should be running for the hills. Where had the boy been? Why the hell had he come back?
Later, with the joint gone and Roland crying quietly in the kitchen area, Lev realises that he is on the verge of sleep. He shuffles forward in his chair and sweeps the carpet next to his feet with his hand. The sun has gone down now and the apartment is shrouded in shade.
“Roland, put the light on,” he croaks.
Roland, still sniffling, looks surprised to hear Lev speak, but he does as he is asked and moves over to the switch by the door.
The light isn’t very bright when it comes on, but it’s enough for Lev to locate what he is looking for, and with a sigh of relief he picks up the clear plastic bag which contains six pills. He picks one out, studies the dark red end and gives it a little shake. The tiny crystals in the Dexedrine capsules are varying shades of orange and he throws it in his mouth, swigging it down with a slug of flat, warm beer. Then he stands up, steadying himself on the wall when the accompanying head rush hits him.
“Roland, you’re going to have to help me,” he says as he looks down at Joy, studying her with a critical eye.
“W-what do you want me to do?” Roland creeps forward, wringing his hands.
Lev