Page 12 of Veiled Justice
Krieg introduced me. ‘This is Inspector Wise. She is investigating Helga’s death.’
Both parents barely acknowledged me; they continued to stare at Krieg with bemusement until finally Jón asked, ‘She’s from the Connection?’
‘Yes. They have resources we do not. I will stop at nothing to see that Helga’s killer is found.’ The unspoken wordseven work with the Connectiondid not need to be voiced, but we all heard them.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ I started. ‘And I’m sorry to have to ask you questions right now, but time is of the essence in tracking down her killer.’ My dad’s cold case had taught me how icy a casecould get; how impossible it was to gain purchase once the days and weeks slipped away.
Neither of Helga’s parents responded immediately. Jón sat on the floor, put his arms and legs around his wife and she collapsed against him. Her eyes were glassy with shock and tears that were spilling unchecked down her cheeks.
Wrapped around Freja like a safety blanket, Jón looked up at me, his eyes also brimming. ‘Ask your questions,’ he choked out.
I needed to make it quick, get the basics; I could question them further at a less sensitive time. I squatted down so I was at their eye level. ‘Do you know Helga’s PIN code for her phone?’
They both shook their heads so I pressed on. ‘Do you know of anyone who would seek to harm Helga?’
‘No,’ Jón said fiercely. ‘None would dare. All know she is loved by King Krieg.’
Ogres may have known that but other species would have been ignorant of Helga’s place in ogre society. I considered it best not to point that out. ‘Do you know where she was supposed to be last night?’
‘With Aron,’ her mother said immediately.
‘Her boyfriend?’
‘Her best friend,’ Jón corrected. ‘They were born in the same month. They have been inseparable since birth.’
‘Was she dating anyone?’ I asked. Her mother shook her head.
I suppressed a grimace. Her parents had no idea if Helga had enemies and they didn’t know where she’d been the previous night. I could question them again if I needed to, but for now I’dleave them to their grief and misery. Hopefully, I’d have better luck with her friends.
I saw death frequently and I often saw love, too; after all, grief was just the other side of the coin. Time and again I’d observed that the deeper the grief, the truer the love had been. It reminded me that there was far more to the human condition than death and darkness.
These parents were ogres and they dealt with death regularly as part of the fabric of their being. They weren’t wailing and gnashing their teeth like some human parents might have done, but they were on the floor with no one defending their back, with no weapons drawn. I knew enough about their culture to recognise the significance of that: it showed that they were broken. They had loved their daughter with all that they were.
And I would find the person who had taken their daughter from them.
‘Thank you for your time.’ I looked at Krieg. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
My heartbeat sped up again as Krieg pushed off the wall and strode towards me, but although he looked purposeful I didn’t fear for my life. My heart was pounding for other reasons. He walked past me and I followed him wordlessly.
I glanced back at Helga’s parents. Now that the questions were over, they broke down completely and sobbed brokenly in each other’s arms. Cries of distress echoed through the large space.
Behind them, the fire burned green.
Chapter 8
I assumed that Krieg was going to drive me home but instead he stalked down the corridor and held open a wooden door for me. When I raised an eyebrow in silent question, he jerked his head. ‘Helga’s room.’ I tugged out a fresh pair of disposable gloves from my back pocket and pulled them on.
When I entered, I blinked in surprise. It was as stark as anything I’d ever seen: there was merely a single bed, a wardrobe and chest of drawers, a chair and desk, and a door to an ensuite bathroom with a shower and a toilet.
I opened the wardrobe to reveal several variations of black combat trousers and black tops and an array of shit-kicking boots, but absolutely nothing that hinted at her likes or dislikes.
There were no books on her bedside table, just a half-drunk glass of water that she would never finish. There were no cushions on the bed, no throws to snuggle into. The curtains were gunmetal grey, as was the duvet cover. Everything was utterly sterile.
I rifled through the drawers, checking for anything of interest, but there was nothing. The room had all of the warmth of a prison cell.
Next I searched under the bed and under the mattress: nothing. For an eighteen-year-old out on an unsanctioned contract, it was surprising that there was no sign of anything illicit.
‘There’s not much here,’ I said cautiously to Krieg. So far he’d been fairly good about sharing information so I pressed my luck while it lasted.
