Reckoning Point, стр. 44

Now, as he sips at the coffee he ordered, she’s filling his mind. She’s so young that she could well be forgiven for any childish notions she may possess, but she’s had to take care of herself since she was practically still a kid. Elian is quiet and demure, but she’s also tough and ballsy. He rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand and groans. He still can’t quite put his finger on what she done to make him fall so hard for her, but he knows he has fallen for her, there’s no other explanation for the way he feels when he thinks about her.

A shadow falls across his table and Alex looks up, grateful for the interruption of Erik Fons who is armed with stacks of files that he’s bought over from the Hoofdbureau. Erik drops the files on the table and slumps into the seat opposite.

“Can I?” he asks, gesturing to the still warm cafetiere between them.

Alex passes him a cup and waits while Erik fills it, throws it back, and refills it again.

“You look tired,” comments Alex.

“Fucking shattered,” responds Erik. “But I need to get this put to bed.”

Alex understands instantly, he’s worked with enough police back in England to know that when something like this is going on it needs to be solved and closed down as quickly as possible. Not only are people’s lives on the line, but jobs are at risk too if the solution is not found quickly enough according to those higher up the ladder.

Erik takes three files off the pile and spreads them out so they are facing Alex.

“Three victims; Gabi, a working girl originally from Brazil found in an alleyway off Doublestraat, two nights later we found Cilla, another prostitute, this one was from the U.K. She was killed in her own shop front window. Amber, a local, was the one you saw today. She was murdered at her own home on Waldorpstraat. All three were strangled.”

“Were there any other similarities?” Asks Alex as he gazes at the mug shots of the three dead girls.

“Two of them had what appeared to be patches of skin removed, Gabi’s arm and Cilla’s thigh, but there is nothing like that on Amber.”

Alex leans back in his seat and taps his fingers on his coffee cup. “Do you have photos of the skin?”

Erik digs around in the top file and passes two Polaroid’s over to him and Alex studies them intently. The one on the girls arm is jagged, almost as though the knife bearer’s hand was shaking. The other one is neater, more square, carefully done.

“This was done first, right?” he asks, showing the photo of Gabi’s arm to Erik.

“Yes, as a matter of fact it was. How did you know?”

Alex picks up the second photograph, “This is much neater, this one was not his first attempt.” He throws the photos on the table. “What else have you got?”

Erik stacks the pictures together, places them carefully back in the file and shrugs.

“Nothing?” Alex’s tone is disbelieving. “Witnesses? Suspects?”

Erik remains impassive and Alex sighs and pours them both another coffee. “Tell me about this Lev that you spoke to.”

Erik starts to talk but is cut off by the sound of his mobile ringing. He looks at the screen. “Hoofdbureau - work,” he says to Alex as he answers.

In the quiet of the empty restaurant Alex can hear the operator on the other end.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt you so late but sir, there’s been another one.”

Fons locks eyes with Alex and bangs his fist on the table. “Jesus Christ,” he exclaims loudly. “Who is it, and where?”

There’s an ominous pause on the other end of the line before the operator speaks again, quieter this time, but Alex hears his words clearly. “It was at the Episcopalian church off Wassenstraat, but sir … I’m sorry sir …”

The voice tails off and Erik barks impatiently down the phone. “What?”

“Sir, its Naomi Wilson,” the caller rushes to get his words out. “It’s your girlfriend, sir.”