Darkness Calls

DARKNESS CALLS AN INSPECTOR CECILIE MARS THRILLER MICHAEL KATZ KREFELD Translated from Danish by Ian Giles For my beautiful wife and best friend, Lis All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Podium Publishing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2018 by Michael Katz Krefeld English translation copyright © 2023 by Saga Egmont Cover design by Podium Publishing ISBN: 978-1-0394-2496-8 Published in 2023 by Podium Publishing, ULC www.podiumaudio.com CONTENTS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 ABOUT THE AUTHOR And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them. —Ezekiel 25:17 1 COPENHAGEN Fie could still picture the dragon. It had stared at her from the side of his neck, mouth wide open, moving in time with his body as he forced his way into her. Deep, penetrating thrusts. Over and over. The dragon had looked down upon her mercilessly with the same reptilian gaze as its owner. It was an old dragon. Much older than her own eighteen years. She staggered away under the dim streetlights, heading for the concrete silos of Bellahøj. The run-down tower blocks loomed as they encircled her, and she supported herself against a lamppost to avoid falling. The cool metal under the palm of her hand reminded her of the gleaming knife he had held up to her eye. This is what cock teases get. She continued along the deserted street towards her door some way ahead. She passed the basketball court with the netting fluttering from the hoops. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and it was with some difficulty that she managed to retrieve the key from her jacket pocket. Once she had let herself into the building, she went to the lift and slid open the door. The cramped space stared back at her, and she gasped for breath. She could still feel his weight on her and his iron grip on around her throat. It had all gone black and her cry for help had died away before it had even reached her vocal cords. Bebe … bebe was all she had managed to say. A word that had made him laugh. It had turned him on so much he’d ripped her trousers off. Cold blades of grass under her buttocks. Rough, nicotine-stained fingers at her opening. You’re soooo wet. Then a cutting sensation down there. All the way up to the diaphragm. For a split second, she’d thought it was the knife that was inside her rather than his member. Take it. Take it, you nym … pho … In his excitement, he stumbled over his own words. She let go of the lift door and turned towards the stairs. Every single step was agony. They reminded her of his thrusts, each accompanied by a grunt—a sound that now filled her head and echoed around the stairwell. Six storeys. One hundred and eight steps. An eternity—just like the one she had experienced in the park’s dark landscape, together with the dragon. She locked the flat’s front door behind her and tiptoed through the hallway. From the bedroom she heard her mother’s sleepy voice. “Fie, is that you?” That was followed by: “Ugh, it ended up being a late one then?” Fie dumped her bag and denim jacket in the hall. A light was switched on inside the bedroom and she heard the bed creak as her mother got out of it. Fie hurried down the hallway and into the bathroom. She quickly shut the door, ensuring she locked it, too. A moment later, she saw her mother’s silhouette through the frosted glass. “You not feeling well?” she asked. Fie didn’t reply. “Are you okay?” “Yeah … yeah,” she managed to stammer. “Are you pissed?” “No … I mean, only a little.” There was a groan from the other side of the door. “Fie! We promised Grandma we’d arrive early.” “Yes, yes … Good night, Mum.” “G’night, sweetheart.” A moment later, the bedroom door closed. Fie stood in front of the basin and examined herself in the mirror. There was extensive bruising on her neck, and below her left eye she had a cut from his knife. Blades of grass sparkled neon green in her matted black hair. Her face was swollen with tears. The shock was still there in her vacant stare and the open mouth, the trembling lips. She disgusted herself. How pathetic. That was what the sight made her think. She lowered her gaze from the mirror and quickly undressed. There were traces of fresh blood in her knickers, and she rinsed them before dumping all her clothes in the laundry basket. She spotted the little pearlised purse sticking out of her trouser front pocket. You’re not gonna grass, right? He’d taken her health insurance card with her address on it. Warned her not to tell anyone. If she did, he’d stop by with his knife. She’d promised him she wouldn’t say a word. He’d smiled and shoved a two hundred kroner note into her purse. A little something for the taxi, sweetie. Or for something tasty tomorrow. None of it had made any sense. He’d winked at her—or perhaps it had been the dragon on his neck that had done that—before they both disappeared