Page 33 of Midnight Sun
They walk in silence for a while, sharing the breakfast Finn bought in Reykjavík. The landscape is as rough and barren as always, but for Finn it seems charged with foreboding tension.
“I’m sure they were out here.” Finn’s anger increases with every step he takes. He can feel their presence now, and he has to fight the irrational urge to go faster, to run after them and hunt them down, although he knows they’re long gone.
They walk for nearly a whole hour when Freki leaves the path to sniff between a formation of black rocks. Finn and Dagur share a glance. They have to tread carefully because the terrain is uneven and one could easily slip and sprain an ankle or worse, but they don’t have to go far. Apart from the remains of a small campfire and the rectangle of flattened earth on which the sleeping bag must have lain, there is not much to indicate that anyone had set up camp out here. There are no other clues as to who owned the camp, no carelessly discarded trash, nothing. Dagur pulls a camera out of his backpack, as well as a pair of latex gloves and some plastic bags.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“If there was anything to touch,” Finn grouses, while Dagur systematically starts to take pictures.
Finn takes his time inspecting the camp. It’s certainly not in a place he would’ve chosen if he’d wanted to spend a night outdoors. Not an experienced hiker, then, but someone smart enough to pick a spot where they couldn’t be discovered by accident. He circles the campsite, careful not to enter it directly. A tingling sensation accompanies him, making the hairs on his forearms stand up.
He finds a small game trail leading up, and it’s only a short climb to the top of the cliffs overlooking the area. He can even make out the lodge as a white speck in the distance. Finn makes a low, angry sound, almost a growl. Had the stalker been sitting here, staring at the lodge in the distance, fantasizing about Jamie? Finn’s gaze falls on a rock about the size of a soccer. Its position appears a little misplaced.
The odd foreboding feeling is back tenfold. Finn pushes the rock carefully to the side to have a look beneath. He nearly drops it when he glimpses the photograph hidden underneath. It sits in a transparent envelope, and Finn doesn’t have to pick it up to know it’s of Jamie.
“Dagur! Up here!”
Finn’s jaw clenches and his hands are curled into fists. He feels like he might jump out of his skin, that’s how furious he is. Dagur takes more photos, unaware of his inner turmoil, or pointedly ignoring it. He stows the picture and its envelope into a plastic bag. Finn only has a few seconds to look at the picture, but still the image of Jamie sunbathing next to a pool has ingrained itself into his retina. It was obviously taken on private property, and Jamie hadn’t known he had been photographed. He looks so fucking vulnerable.
“I’ll have this tested for fingerprints,” Dagur says.
“What do we do now?” Finn grits out.
Dagur pats him on the shoulder. “Now you drive back to the city and stay alert. Maybe this person already made a mistake by leaving this out here, maybe not. But eventually they’ll screw up, and then we’ll be there.” Dagur grins and it’s all sharp around the edges. Finn can’t help but to grin back just as feral.
“Good.”
Finn’s thoughts are still a spiraling mess when he reaches Reykjavík hours later. He just can’t get the picture of Jamie’s prone form out of his head. A picture taken by some coward lurking in the shadows, someone who carried their trophy around afterward. It’s disgusting. Finn has no idea where the photograph had been taken, but he has a feeling that whoever did this has been following Jamie far longer than he first suspected. He clenches his hands around the wheel. This is unacceptable.
He parks the car in front of the gym again, planning to text Jamie and ask him if he would like to take a walk with him, maybe go grab some food in the city. But as soon as he leaves the driver’s seat, he spots a dark-clad figure lingering in the entranceway up to his flat. Finn’s anger reignites within seconds and he all but runs across the street. He spins the stranger around with an unrelenting hand on their shoulder. It’s a woman, who looks up at him with slightly widened eyes.
“This is private property, lady. Searching for someone?” Finn growls, anger evident in his voice, because how can he know it wasn’ther?
“Excuse me?” she says in English, backing up against the door.
Finn repeats his words in English this time.
Emotions flicker over her face almost too fast to follow; recognition, anger, despair.
“You must be Thorfinn,” she says in a strangled voice and gives him a not too subtle once over.
“And who are you?”
She pauses.
“I’m Bev," she says eventually, her tone dripping with indignation.
Finn needs a second to place the name. He takes a step back.
“Jamie’s ex-girlfriend?” He’s a little embarrassed as soon as the words leave his mouth. Who else should she be?
“I–You–,” Bev falters. “You didn’t call me,” she finally says.
“No.” Finn feels even more confused.
She drops her gaze, maybe blinking away tears, but he can’t be sure with her hair falling in front of her face.
“I’m sorry. I should leave.”