Heritage of Darkness (39 page)

explanation. “My mom was shocked. She was pregnant with my

sister Kari about the same time Sigrid was pregnant with Violet.”

Roelke leaned back in his chair. “Holy toboggans.”

“Remember how awkward dinner was that evening when you

and Emil came over?” Chloe asked. “Neither Sigrid or Emil said a

word. I just figured Sigrid was upset about the vault episode, and 331

Petra. Violet had no idea she had invited her biological father over for fruit soup.”

“I had no clue.”

“How could you have?” Chloe asked. She chose not to mention

her
clue—the baby bib embroidered with such sorrow.

“I should have known!” The words burst out in a low growl. “I

should have picked up on
something
. I stayed in Emil Bergsbakken’s house, for God’s sake! I even asked him about his mother’s

lefse
pin. How could I not have seen?”

“Emil fooled a lot of people, for a very long time,” Chloe

reminded him. “People who knew him a lot better than you did—”

“But I’m a cop. And there were signs. He’s shy and pleas-

ant … but when some kids were playing tricks and snapped off our

classroom lights, he flew into a rage. When he tried to give me

relationship advice—”

“Emil gave you
relationship
advice?”

“He told me to find a good Irish or German girl.”

That bothered Chloe more than she would have guessed. “The

word ‘hubris’ comes to mind,” she said tartly.

“He said I needed a woman who could understand where I

came from. What I know. Stuff like that.”

Chloe struggled to purge her brain of the image of Emil Bergs-

bakken, mass murderer, giving Roelke advice about
her
.

“Everybody’s heard stories about the nice man next door who

turns out to be a serial killer,” Roelke was saying bitterly. “But there were indications that Emil’s mental state was … crumbling. He

said something about his dead brother coming back this Christ-

mas.”

332

“Old-time Norwegians believed that about family members,”

Chloe said. “Maybe Emil was frightened Oscar would come back

and punish him for killing Petra. I saw the cross painted on the

stabbur to ward away spirits.”

“I thought it just meant Emil was a Christian.” Roelke scrubbed

his face with his palms. “It’s like there were two Emils.”

“I know,” Chloe agreed soberly. “Part of him had horrible

urges; the other part of him longed to be stopped.”

“I was too open with him. If I hadn’t told him that you and I

were pursuing a couple of ideas, you never would have become a

target.”

“Not just me. When I think about what happened on the

bridge …” Chloe felt pain in her hand and realized she was squeez-

ing her fork. They’d learned the night before that Emil had used

Oscar’s old car to try to ram Roelke on the bridge. He’d told the

cops that he drove up and down Skyline Road a dozen times, wait-

ing to see Roelke walking back to his place. “I didn’t ever hear

about the
budstikker
, though. I assume those came from Emil too?”

“He left the one at Sigrid’s house,” Roelke confirmed. “And he

jammed that carved
budstikke
into his own front door, too. Evidently his grandfather made that one. Emil did not leave the one

Howard got—that one must have actually come from some dis-

gruntled painter.”

“I think it was Violet,” Chloe said. He gave her a questioning

look. “It’s just a hunch.”

Roelke picked up his goblet, put it down. “I still can’t take it in.

Emil
. I should have seen it.”

“You’re not a mind reader.”

333

“I should have picked up on something. I should have, and I

didn’t. I was so focused on carving that—”

“That’s what you were supposed to be focused on!”

“— Lavinia was hurt. Your mom was hurt. You were almost …”

Chloe reached across the table. “Give me your hand.” She

waited until he reluctantly complied. “Listen to me. This was
not
your fault. None of this was your fault. And please don’t forget

that you got him in the end—despite teetering on the edge of

hypothermia.”

“You were holding your own.”

“I’m not sure I could have taken him down with a hackle,” she

said honestly. “But I didn’t have to, because you came. You got

him.”

Roelke shrugged. Chloe reluctantly released his hand, knowing

she hadn’t convinced him of a darn thing.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Roelke looked up.

“Chloe? You were the one who wanted to go back to Emil’s house

with Moyer. And you led us straight up to those damn mangles.

How did you know?”

Chloe sipped her wine. She watched a little boy skip past their

table. She pleated her napkin. “We-ell,” she said at last, “there’s something I’ve kinda wanted to talk to you about for a long time.

Roelke, sometimes I can perceive strong emotions that linger in

old places. Most of the time when I go in an old building—like

this one—if I think about it, I get sort of a faint jumble. No big deal. But sometimes, a really strong emotion comes through. I can

sense it.”

“Like instinct? Cops need good instincts. I can’t explain exactly

what that means, but I know it’s real.”

334

Chloe was tempted to go with that; to let him think he under-

stood. But Roelke deserved the truth. “No, this is different from

instinct, or intuition.” She rubbed her forehead, groping for words.

“It’s so hard to explain. I have instincts sometimes, when I think I know something. What I’m talking about is more about literally

feeling
something. When it happens, it’s like some resonance is sort of … vibrating through time. In a physical way. It’s visceral.”

After a long, considering pause Roelke said, “Well, hunh. And

you felt something like that at Emil’s place?”

“Yes.”

“What was the emotion?”

“It was confusing. I got flickers of something dark, but happi-

ness and hope too.” She picked up her fork and played with a can-

died walnut. “All I can figure is that I picked up on how terribly conflicted Emil felt over the years. Just like I picked up on that calendar stick he left in the storage building. I would never have

noticed it on my own if I hadn’t
felt
something.”

“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”

“Not a lot. Just sometimes, and there’s no predicting it. But it’s been happening ever since I was a little girl. I’ve never told anyone about it before.” She looked at him anxiously. “It’s true, Roelke. I wanted to tell you back when we were on Rock Island, but I just

couldn’t find the words. I didn’t want you to think I was a fruit-

cake.”

“I don’t think that.”

“These flashes I get … they can be quite inconvenient. I can go

for months without perceiving anything unusual, and then—

bam.”

335

He looked out the window. Finally he said, “Thank you for tell-

ing me.”

Chloe felt compelled to make sure she was understanding what

this often-rigid, oh-so-German man was saying. “So … what I’ve

just told you, this perception thing, it’s not a deal breaker?”

His mouth hinted at an actual smile. “Definitely not.”

Chloe felt happier than she’d felt all week. I think I feel happier than I’ve felt all year, she thought, a bit dazed.

She polished off her wine. “This is a treat. I haven’t liked us

being apart so much. With the separate classes, the folklore proj-

ect, trying to figure out what was going on, staying in separate

places—it’s been frustrating.”

“For me too.”

On impulse, Chloe grabbed her totebag. “Close your eyes for a

minute. I was going to give you this later, but …” She extracted a Tupperware sandwich container, pulled off the top, and pushed it

across the table. “Here. Merry Christmas.”

Roelke opened his eyes and stared at the rosemaled star inside.

“Did you paint this?”

“I did. It’s an ornament,” she added, in case it wasn’t obvious.

“It’s taped to the bottom of the tub because the paint isn’t dry, so don’t touch it.”

“I thought you were rosemaling a tray and a bowl.”

“My classmates painted trays and bowls. This is what I painted.

It’s my sole accomplishment for the week, and I want you to have

it.”

“It’s really good. I like it a lot.” He met her gaze. “And I have a surprise for you.”

Chloe felt a tingle of anticipation. “What is it?”

336

“When I made our dinner reservation yesterday morning, I

spoke with the desk clerk and asked if anyone had cancelled for

tonight. And guess what? Someone had. We’ve got a room waiting

upstairs.”

Chloe wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. “We

do?”

“We do. Is that OK?”

Chloe had no idea if that was OK. What she did know is that

Roelke needed her. “Yes. It is.”

“Do you need to let your mother know you’re not staying at

Sigrid’s place tonight?”

“Absolutely not!” The very thought made Chloe’s cheeks flame.

“I’m a big girl.”

The waitress appeared. “Anyone save room for dessert?”

“I don’t think so,” Roelke said. “Just the check.”

Chloe tried to collect her wits while he took care of the bill. She tried to collect her wits as they left the restaurant. She tried to collect her wits as Roelke led her up an elegant flight of stairs. Oh my, she thought. What if we’re not ready for this? What if this ruins

everything? What if my bra doesn’t match my panties?

When they reached their room Roelke unlocked the door and

stepped back, letting her enter first. Inside, Chloe found that a

street lamp outside provided just enough illumination to make

more light unnecessary. “This is very nice,” she said. Her voice

sounded higher than usual.

“I have one more gift for you.” Roelke sat down on the bed.

Chloe sat down beside him. It’s going to be OK, she thought,

and felt her spasm of worries fade. This is the man I want to be

with.

337

Roelke reached into the pocket of the coat Howard had loaned

him and pulled out a package wrapped in plain white paper.

“Merry Christmas, Chloe.”

She accepted the gift and pulled away the paper. Inside was a

small candleholder.

“It’s a candleplate,” he said, as if unsure she could tell.

Chloe ran her finger along the lovely design circling the socket.

“It’s
beautiful
! You carved this for me?”

“I did,” he said. “I’ve got a candle to fit it, too.” But there was no joy in his voice.

Chloe felt her heart break. “Oh, Roelke.” She lay her head on

his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally Roelke spoke in a

voice so low she strained to hear. “I always believed I was a good cop.”

“You
are
a good cop. A very good one.”

He didn’t answer.

“And you’re a very good boyfriend, too,” Chloe added. “Roelke?

Light the candle.”



Hours later Roelke lay awake, staring into the dark. Chloe was

sleeping peacefully with her head on his shoulder. He could feel

the satin of her skin, the softness of her long hair, the curve of her hip bone, the beat of her heart. Down in the restaurant earlier he had almost stopped short of admitting he’d scored a room. God

knew the timing was bad. But as the candle burned low Chloe had,

for a while, made him forget.

338

Now, though, all he could think about was Emil. He was a

killer, Roelke thought. I was with him more than anyone this week, and I didn’t see it.

Roelke knew that he’d done a few things right. Once he’d got-

ten Emil on the floor of the Valdres House he hadn’t kicked the old man, or pounded his head against the floor. But did that even

reflect control on his part? Or did it reflect the fact that despite everything Roelke had seen and heard, he’d still felt as if he’d just broken the arm of a kindly old uncle?

An uncle who would live in prison for the rest of his life. An

uncle who would never again hold a carving knife in his knowing

hand.

Chloe stirred in her sleep and Roelke pulled up the sheet, tuck-

ing it gently over her shoulder so she wouldn’t get chilled. He

thought again of the miracle in his arms, this beautiful, smart,

brave, passionate woman. He knew that telling him about sensing

stuff had made her feel anxious, but honestly, it was no big deal.

He didn’t understand it, but there were lots of things about Chloe he didn’t understand. Like why she had finally decided that she

really did want to be with him.

Unwanted, Emil’s gruff advice came back:
I’m talking about two
people who can understand each other—where they come from, what
they know, who they are. I don’t see how two people can make a go of
it if they don’t know all the answers to those questions.

Roelke wasn’t Norwegian. He didn’t have a college degree. He

didn’t know anything about old stuff. Hell, he didn’t even have a

favorite tree.

339

He’d
thought
he could protect her. Evidently he couldn’t even do that. She’d saved him from freezing to death. Had he even

thanked her for that? He couldn’t remember.

I took Emil down in the end, Roelke thought. But Chloe had

already done some serious damage.

His closed his eyes, but the question remained: How could he

be a good partner for Chloe when he had nothing to give?