You Don't Know Me by Aza Clave

Author:Aza Clave [Clave, Aza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Lars sniffed out his own urine and nearly gagged. Annoyed, he started kicking broken beer bottles off the mattress. ‘There is no fucking Solomon. You got the wrong number, bitch.’ He hung up, pissed off that he’d been woken up that way. He moved over to the sink and splashed his face with ice-cold water. The ice-cold water helped clear his head—he glared at the mirror and looked stressed.

Gunnar had the exact location, raising his thumb.

‘Let’s shoot... 20 miles up north.’ Chief Inspector Holmig stepped onto the gas pedal. The metallic, blue car was speeding across the highway when Ole’s number rang back.

‘He knows..,’ Gunnar said.

‘Let it ring,’ Holmig replied, pressing the clutch.

***

The wolf stayed calm. He knew what to do. He fetched his bag hidden amongst cans of meat at the bottom of a wardrobe. Then he saw the ropes, duct tape and used clothes that had belonged to the victims. Ole had promised he’d burn the stuff, but he hadn’t.

He put on his Yankee wool cap and rushed out into the woods. He ran fast with his survival instincts kicking in. Then he remembered the uncut DVD. Fuck! He had left it inside the player. It was too late now. This was why he always needed to be in top shape; one never knew when the day would come. The thought that Hedman had more copies in the cabin startled him. His identity was burned.

As he ran, ice crystals were tickling his beard stubble. But Lars, the revenger, was used to the cold, he knew how to survive. Plan B came into play. They would gather where their heroes had forged their glorious plans 70 years earlier, where no one cared whether it was dark or light outside—where, in a funny way, everything was always in predictable order.

***

His Desert Eagle was pointed at the rusty old door. Two Glocks were backing him up. Holmig kicked the door open. They stormed in but found the cabin deserted. He shuddered at the filthy sight. It had a cheap brothel feel with its smeared red walls and the rundown, shabby mattress covered in... blood stains? Geez, was this Hedman’s cabin? He remembered him mentioning—a few years back—a cabin that his mother had owned. The smell of booze filled his nostrils as he stood in the middle of a puddle of broken glass bottles. He quickly picked up on the urine trail, too, and turned his nose.

His eyes were zooming through the killer wasp nest. A sad sight. A DVD player on pause. Holmig flipped it on. A wolf mask showed. A distorted voice came on. Soon after, the figures on the screen started to torture the girl and the crime team went quiet. When the most horrific parts of the footage came on, Helga Eckdahl averted her gaze. Niklas’ stomach turned. One day he’d end up with an ulcer, or worse, cancer.

‘Turn off the sound...’ he said. Neither Ole’s voice nor his body showed in the picture, but they had come across enough evidence to prove that Ole was involved.

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