I apologize for the wait but life kinda got in the way for a while. Still, this chapter is a little longer than my previous chapters so I hope that makes the wait worth it. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I am overwhelmed by the response to this!
Tracy Malon's house was a small wood cabin hidden in the thick of the forest. It was modest compared to the lavish residences that the two men had previously visited. The cabin appeared old, the wood a light gray color worn by weather and time. As Kurt approached the steps he noticed that a few planks were beginning to rot and there was an old porch swing that was missing one of the slats from its back.
The doorbell rang with a low, somber bong followed shortly by the loud creak of the front door. A girl with dark, curly, red hair that flowed freely past her shoulders greeted the detectives. She was barely over five feet in height and she couldn't have been any older than Linda had been. Probably younger.
"You're the policemen from Ystad," she stated and at the quizzical looks she was given she continued. "Marg… I mean Mrs. Bromstad rang me earlier."
"Ah," replied Kurt showing the girl an amiable smile. "Of course. May we come in?"
"Yes, right this way," said Tracy as she led them into the front hallway. "I figured you'd be coming soon anyhow. It was a terrible thing that happened." Her voice was quiet and serene. "Linda was always so kind."
She led them into the living room where Kurt noticed a woman sitting in a grey wheelchair by the corner. The woman didn't say hello or introduce herself, she merely stared at the two men. "This is my mother." Tracy announced making her way over to the woman. "I'm afraid she won't be able to answer any of your questions. She suffers from a disease called ALS*. It slowly shuts down her system. She can't speak." The words were spoken with a practiced control. Tracy even offered a comforting smile to the detectives but Kurt noticed a glimmer of the pain hidden behind the mask. Also, had Magnus not been standing directly behind him, the older detective might have missed the sharp intake of breath from the younger man.
Despite what Tracy had told them the woman attempted in vain to speak. "Unnn… Umnn," were the sounds she made as she desperately tried to communicate.
"What is it mother?" asked Tracy kneeling low so that her face was even with her mother's. Kurt and Magnus watched mesmerized by the interaction between the two women. Mrs. Malon lifted a brittle, shaking finger barely an inch off of her armrest and Tracy turned her head realizing what her mother was pointing at. A pair of teacups sat on an end table by a green couch. "Of course! How silly of me." Tracy stood and addressed the detectives, "Would either of you like some tea?"
Kurt had all intentions of declining the offer, he felt as though he didn't want to take up too much of the girl's time, but before he could say no, Magnus rushed to cut him off. "I would love some," he stated quickly and then looked pointedly at Tracy's mother with the sincerest of looks on his face. "That is very kind of you Mrs. Malon. Thank you." Tracy smiled sweetly and headed out to the kitchen. Kurt turned his head to fix Magnus with an irritated glare but otherwise said nothing.
When Tracy returned laden with her tray of tea, Kurt and Magnus were sitting on the forest green couch that adorned her living room. After setting the tray on the wooden coffee table, the young girl sat in an ancient rocking chair that groaned in response to its sudden burden. Kurt shifted a bit in his seat feeling strangely awkward to be invading the privacy of this family. Nonetheless he began his litany of standard questions. "How long had you known Linda?"
"Since she graduated high school, I think," she said. "About four years. We were sort of part of different crowds before then."
"Right," commented Wallander. "Any thoughts on who could have done this. Someone she knew or met recently perhaps."
As expected the girl shook her head. "Not really, I mean who would do that sort of thing." As she said this she began to slowly wring her hands together and her eyes glazed over a bit as though she was lost in thought.
"I know this is difficult," Kurt said bringing the girl's attention back to him. "I assure you Miss. Malon we intend to get to the bottom of this. Now I'm guessing you at least knew of her in high school." Tracy nodded. "We hear she could be a bit wild in those days."
Tracy let out a soft laugh. "Silly thing really," she said. "I remember some of the pranks they pulled on the teachers. But she wouldn't have done any of that now. Not after…"
Tracy trailed off but Kurt pressed further. "After what, Tracy?"
A look of guilt passed over the young woman's face and Kurt surmised that this must make her feel as though she were telling on her best friend. Betraying her in a way. "Well," she began hesitantly, "one night her group got a bit out of hand. I think someone might have been seriously hurt, but she wasn't the one directly responsible for it though. I know that."
Kurt pondered that for a moment, "Do you know of anyone who was involved? The person who might have been injured, perhaps?"
"Not the one who was injured, no," she responded. "But I do know that two of the boys were sent to some type of correctional facility. One of them just returned from there about a month ago, I think. He has a job at the gas station so I've talked to him a few times. John is his name. John Tourneau."
"And the other boy, did you know his name?"
"Jimmy," she replied, "but I don't know his last name. I'm sorry"
Kurt smiled. "You have been more than helpful, my dear. I think that's all we need for now. Thank you."
All three stood and Tracy walked the detectives to the front door. Once they were outside and Tracy had bid them a good day they both exhaled a pair of rough sighs. "That was…unexpected," said Magnus and Kurt found himself a little caught off guard by the strange meekness of his voice. It was a sharp contrast to the younger man's acerbic, confident tone that Kurt had grown used to over the years.
Kurt brushed off the feeling. "Yes," he finally agreed. "She composed herself very well, particularly for someone who just lost her best friend."
"She has to," stated Magnus but his voice was still small and it was beginning to unnerve his partner. "To deal with what she has to, she's gotta be strong. Otherwise she'll fall apart."
Kurt looked at Magnus with a wary eye. He had never really seen a somber Magnus and to be honest it was a bit frightening. A cranky, sardonic Magnus was easy to deal with. Just yell at him a bit and he settles down, but this. This was something the elder detective had no clue what to do with. So, in true Kurt Wallander fashion he remained silent, hoping the mood would simply pass away.
The ride to Tourneau's house was deafeningly quiet and Kurt hated it. The only time Magnus spoke was when he called the station for the address and even then the conversation was short, his tone flat and business-like. Now Magnus was gazing out of the car window with a far off look. It was weird. Actually, it was downright creepy.
Finally, they approached the house they were looking for. It was another wood cabin but this one looked almost new. Both men stepped out from the car and approached the cabin, Kurt knocking heavily on the door when they reached it. The door slid open slightly under the touch. After waiting a few minutes and receiving no response, Kurt turned to his partner. "There's a motorbike in the drive, I'll be willing to bet he's still in there," he said.
"I guess it's convenient that he left the door open then," replied Magnus, a spark of his normal self rising in the statement.
"Right, I'll go in front, you go around back." Magnus nodded as he turned to comply. Rounding the left corner, he tried to get a peak in the side window but it was obvious that a very young bachelor lived here. The glass was covered with grime both inside and out making it nearly impossible to view anything through them. Coming around to the back, Magnus spotted a bunch of crates stacked against the wall. There was no sign of anyone and the windows were too high to even attempt to look through so he didn't see the harm in taking a moment's rest. Setting his elbows on the crates, he let his face fall into his hands.
Damn, he was tired. The visit to the Malon residence had been unexpectedly draining. It felt so much like… but he couldn't think about that now. Kurt would have his head if he didn't stay focused on the job. Still, if he could close his eyes for just a moment…
Upon entering the house the first thought that crossed Wallander's mind was that a tornado had touched down here. The place was a mess. He nearly tripped over a pair of Nikes lying on the floor and a wry grin passed his face at the irony of seeing a heap of coats lying next to the coat closet. In the living room he found more of the same. Endless piles of clothes, a couch with a torn cushion, a small table propped up on one side by pizza boxes. Kurt was surprised this town even had pizza delivery. The place definitely had that "lived in" feel; still Kurt had yet to find any living person in it. He moved on to the bedroom and was about to check the closet when he heard a scampering of feet and caught a flash of black and tan pass by the doorway. He was on the kid's heels in an instant shouting "Stop! Police!" as he ran.
The boy dashed into the living room, toppling over a pile of clothes in an attempt to slow down the detective. He flung open the window in the far tight corner. Kurt had untangled his feet from a particularly stubborn sweatshirt and lunged for the boy only to be kicked back as the kid launched himself out of the window.
Magnus jolted as the thunk of a large object hitting the grass pulled him from his stupor. Had he really fallen asleep? There was no time to ponder that question as he both heard then saw an enraged Kurt Wallander shouting at him from inside a window. It was hard at first to make sense of the words, his mind still fogged with sleep, but he became suddenly alert when he heard the roar of an engine coming to life. He fumbled for his gun, nearly dropping it before raising it into position. By then it was too late, however. The bike screeched out of the driveway and was about a mile down the road by the time Magnus saw it.
Kurt slammed his hands against the windowsill. "Damn it, Magnus!" came his furious shout. Magnus looked back toward the house with profuse apologies shining in his eyes but it was to no avail. Kurt was already headed toward the front door no doubt ready to skin the younger man alive. Magnus knew he deserved every bit of it. No detective should let himself be caught off guard the way he had. Even so, he dreaded the ride back to the hotel for, he thought, it could very well be his last.
*ALS - Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis also known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
A coworker of mine has suffered from it for about two years. She stayed at work as long as she could and longer than that I think. She always kept smiling and was always great to be around. Sadly, she passed away while I was writing this chapter. My prayers go out to her family and all those who have been touched by this horrible disease.