Seven, eight ... gonna stay up late (Rebekka Franck #4) Read online

  "Okay, then. I could use your help and Julie loves to spend time with you. It is a great offer, really. But what about your business, don't you have to work?"

  "All I need is an Internet connection and I'm up and running," Peter said. "I might as well take care of things from down here. I think it'll do me good to spend a couple of weeks away from it all, and close to my kiddo," he said and pretended to take her nose. Julie whined with joy.

  "Okay," I said with a smile. "We'd love to have you around." I raised my finger. "But you're getting a hotel room."

  Peter's smile froze a little, then he nodded. "Of course. That is the only right thing to do."

  "And you young lady, you need to go to sleep now. Big day tomorrow."

  I kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek. She smiled widely. "Goodnight," I said and went to the door.

  "I love you, Mom. Thank you, thank you for letting Dad stay," Julie said.

  "You're welcome," I said and closed the door.

  Peter stared at me. "Thank you," he whispered.

  "Don't make me regret it," I said and began walking towards the stairs. Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He looked into my eyes, and then stroked my cheek gently the way he always used to do. He lifted my chin with his finger.

  "I have missed you so much," he said. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

  I swallowed hard, then pulled back. "Well I'm just glad you're better now and that Julie can have you in her life again."

  "What about you?" He asked.

  I shrugged. "What about me?"

  "Are you happy to have me in your life again?"

  I pulled further away. "Don't push it, Peter. One step at the time."

  Peter sighed then bowed his head. "Of course," he said. "I know I've disappointed you, I know I've hurt you and that it takes time for you to trust me again. But I'm willing to fight for it, to have you be able to trust me again."

  "That's all very good, Peter, but you're forgetting one thing."

  "And that is?"

  "I'm with someone else now."

  Chapter 35

  Camilla was fighting to breathe. She had her body elevated on her elbows, but knew it wouldn't be long before they would cave in. They were hurting and shaking already. She took in a deep breath, and then let her body be covered by the water while her arms rested. Shortly she lifted herself up again, in order to take a breath. She gasped for air, filling her lungs, panting. Her arms began to shake again and she had to repeat the maneuver. She did so a couple of times, but soon she wasn't able to stay above the water for long. She tried to scream when she was above the surface, but didn't have much strength or enough air. She swallowed water, then coughed wildly. Meanwhile the man seemed to be occupied with Amalie. Camilla tried to catch his attention to her and to let him know she was about to drown in here, but he was preoccupied by what he was doing to Amalie. Camilla managed to keep her head above the water long enough to look at her. What was he doing over there? Amalie seemed to be tied to something, a pipe and he seemed to be force-feeding her through it with something. What was he doing? He seemed to be dancing around Amalie's box, then there was a light, like a flash. Was he taking pictures?

  Camilla didn't understand what was going on, and she wasn't certain she wanted to. All she could think of was her own survival. She felt her mouth fill once again with water and coughed and spat it out. Then she took another deep breath before she let herself go under the water while resting her arms. She returned above the surface spitting and panting, gasping for air. She didn't know how much longer she could sustain this. Was that his plan? she thought with dread. Was she just supposed to drown in this box once she couldn't hold her head up any longer? She sobbed and moaned, feeling sorry for herself and for ending her life like this. Her parents were going to be devastated. She wanted so badly to see them again. She didn't blame them for anything. Yes they had been very absent in her life, but they had only done so to be able to give her a life in luxury, a life where she had everything she could ever want in life. Camilla used to blame them for not being present enough in her life, for letting their jobs be more important than her, than their family, but not anymore. Now all she could think of was to be able to once again be with them, to hug her mother like when she was only a child, before the money, before the luxury when her mother had time to hug and listen to her talk. She knew they could mend the broken pieces if only they tried. All she had to do was to forget all the anger towards them, all the resentment she felt in her heart for being left alone so many times, for them not showing up to watch her in her school play, or when she scored that goal in soccer. She saw that now. All she had to do was to let it go, let the bitterness go. She saw it clearly now. But it was too late. It was much too late. She was going to die here, in this awful box by the hands of this horrifying killer. Her arms were shaking heavily once again, hurting like hell too, and she had to let go. With a great sigh she fell back in the water without even taking a deep breath first. A few bubbles left her mouth and travelled towards the surface. She stared at them while getting ready to meet her creator. Bye Mom, bye Dad, she thought. I'm sorry I didn't get to say a proper goodbye. Everything around her seemed to go in slow motion now. Her arm floating in the water next to her head, her hair looking like waves. Pictures of the ones she had loved danced before her eyes in a bright light. Her parents were holding each other like they used to when Camilla was a child, they were happy again and waving at her. Then her grandmother showed up looking like she did before she died and finally she saw Amalie, blowing kisses at her while running at the beach. A song popped into her head. A song she and Amalie used to sing along to.

  Seven devils all around you

  Seven devils in my house

  See they were there when I woke up this morning

  I'll be dead before this day is done

  She repeated the lyrics from Florence and the Machine in her head several times, while the water slowly swallowed her and she felt it enter her body, her nose, her mouth and finally her lungs.

  Then it all went black.

  Chapter 36

  Allan was getting ready. He found a new shirt and put it on in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He had chosen a light blue to make him look trustworthy. He read in a magazine once that women found a man in a light blue shirt more likable and reliable than any other color. And that was what he needed to signal. Most of his friends dressed in camouflage-green when going hunting, but Allan dressed in light blue.

  He turned his torso in front of the mirror, then slicked his blond hair back with some wax. He nodded slowly while correcting the shirt and rolling up the sleeves. It was a warm night out. The right kind of night for hunting, he thought.

  Sebastian had called earlier and said that he would be over later to spend the night. It would give Allan the alibi he needed in case anyone would ever think of suspecting him of anything. Though they never did. He was way too good and way too careful for that.

  On the table his iPad lit up. A message on the chat. It was from Cogliantry.

  Good luck tonight, it said. Think of me as you grab her.

  I won't, Allan wrote. I don't want to ruin the moment, lol.

  Point taken. At least I will be thinking about you. All night long. Imagining what you're doing to her, fantasying that it's me. Me who smells her skin, me who looks into her fear-filled eyes before I end her life. Me, who fucks her afterwards, chops her into little pieces and feeds them to the pigs.

  You're sick, Allan wrote.

  No, my friend. You're the sick one here. Posting any pictures soon?

  Allan looked at his watch. He had to get going, but he really wanted to show his friends the pictures he had taken of his Princess.

  Give me a sec.

  I'll give you more than that if you promise me it's good. Boy are you gonna make my night if it's anything as good as your earlier works.

  Oh, it's better. It's much better. Just wait and see.

  Allan found his si
ngle-lens reflex camera and hooked it up to his Mac. He found the best ones, then uploaded them. As soon as he plugged in his iPad they were immediately transferred and now he could upload them to the secure chat. He smiled widely as he watched them again, then waited for the reaction. It took a few minutes and Allan was about to get impatient, when a new message popped up:

  That, my friend, is a true masterpiece.

  Allan chuckled satisfied. His fellow artist’s opinions were more important than any opinion. He was his own worst critic and hard to please, so like many other artists he was constantly looking for encouraging words and acceptance of his art from others.

  Allan logged off the chat. He was getting ready and had to get in the mood. There was no time for other stuff, he needed to focus. But there was something that seemed to be bothering him, he thought as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror once again. She was bothering him. Her. She had been on his mind ever since that night in the parking lot. He exhaled and straightened his back to make himself look taller. What was it with her? Why did he want her so bad? He kept fantasying about what he could do to her and how she was going to make him happy. He was getting too obsessed with her face, well with everything about her. If he wasn't careful it could end up destroying him. He risked losing his focus and maybe getting too careless. He could end up making a mistake if he wasn't careful. History was filled with people who let an obsession destroy their work. A passion for someone could end up devouring him. There was really only one way to get rid of an obsession like that.

  He had to kill her.

  Allan grabbed his car keys and ran downstairs. Luckily everything seemed to come together for him lately. A message in the chatroom earlier today had come as a blessing to him. It was almost like someone knew about his secret desire and wanted to bless him. It could hardly be just a coincidence, could it?

  Just before he went outside he stopped by the door leading to the basement and listened. Not a sound from the girls. Good, he thought. They were definitely exhausted after a busy day. He chuckled as he was walked towards the main door, throwing his car-keys casually in the air and catching them again. It was good the girls got some sleep. They were about to have a busy day tomorrow again.

  Allan locked the front door carefully, and then took two steps at a time down the stairs into the gravel where he jumped inside of his car. The Mercedes spun like a cat as he turned on the engine. He turned on the GPS in the car and plotted in the name of the town that had been chosen for tonight's hunt. Karrebaeksminde, it replied. One hundred point nine kilometers, one hour and seventeen minutes.

  Allan smiled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror, then drove off.

  Chapter 37

  "So what do you think of the story about Erik Klipping?" Peter asked.

  We were sitting in my dad's yard drinking a glass of wine. I offered him one after Julie had fallen asleep and my dad had turned himself in. I don't know what it was or why I asked him to stay, but I guess I enjoyed being with Peter again. I enjoyed his company and that he seemed to be back to his own self again. I had been thinking about Camilla and Amalie all evening, unable to stop wondering where they could be and if they were alright. It upset me that I couldn't do anything to help them right now. But I had to trust the police were doing all they could to find them.

  "I don't know," I answered. "Why would anyone want to steal the remains of a king buried more than seven hundred years ago? I don't get it. Is it worth anything?"

  Peter shrugged then sipped some wine from his glass. "I guess it might be, but who would buy it?"

  I chuckled trying to imagine a wealthy Saudi Arabian oil-sheik paying millions to have Erik Klipping's coffin in his mansion somewhere. Then Peter laughed. "The real question is why? Why would someone buy it?"

  "Maybe someone who collects these kind of things," I said and put my glass on the table. It was a nice bright summer evening. I had put on a sweater since it had gotten a little chilly, but otherwise it was very nice sitting on Dad’s patio furniture with Peter. "Like weird rich guys who collects national relics and treasures."

  I thought for a second about Sune while looking at Peter. I knew he would be so hurt if he knew I was hanging out with my ex. But wasn't I allowed to do that every once in a while? I mean we used to be married. We used to have a family and hang out all the time. I missed him. Wasn't I allowed to do that? It was after all best for Julie that we remained friends. It was in her best interest.

  The guilt was nagging me. I found an old packet of cigarettes in the pocket of my sweater and took one out. Peter stared at me. "I thought you'd quit."

  "I did," I said and lit it.

  Peter shook his head. "Well, at least share with me," he said and put his fingers in the air to signal that he wanted the cigarette. I hesitated, then smoked a little more before I handed it to him. He smiled and inhaled. Then he coughed.

  "Too strong for you, huh?" I said laughing. Peter handed me the cigarette back. I took a couple of puffs, and then killed it with my shoe.

  "No, just too long since I last smoked. Phew I remember why this was never for me," he said still coughing.

  "You used to smoke."

  "When I was younger. Before I met you, yes. Guess I'm getting too old."

  I smiled. "You are kind of old. But heck so am I. Too old."

  Peter stopped coughing then looked at me. "Too old for what?" he asked.

  I exhaled. "Too old to be having more children," I mumbled, then picked up my glass and drank my wine.

  Peter burst into laughter. "Ha. You having more children? Where did that come from?"

  I chuckled. "I know. It's kind of silly, right?"

  Peter stopped laughing. "You're being serious? Do you really want more kids now? I thought you were happy with the way things were. With Julie and your job here and living the life you do now? Do you really want to start all over again with a baby?"

  I inhaled sharply. "Tricky question. Not sure we should go there right now."

  Peter nodded. "Ah, I see. He wants to have more children, you don't?"

  "Well it's not that simple. It's a lot more complicated than that. I do want to have more children, or I did, but we have been trying for a long time now and nothing is happening. Now I feel like we're wearing each other out on this subject. It's grown too big, you know? Plus I'm not getting any younger as we wait for it to happen. I'll be thirty-nine in October."

  "I know. You're getting up there with the rest of us," Peter said with a grin.

  I slapped him amicably on the shoulder. "I'm not old. Not like you."

  He grabbed my hand. "You'll never be as old as me. You'll always be young and absolutely gorgeous."

  Peter pulled me closer to him till we were face to face. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "I've missed this," he whispered. Then he opened his eyes. My heart was beating fast. I wanted to run, I wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him to leave, but something inside of me refused to do it.

  "I still love you, Rebekka. Things have changed. I have changed ..." In the middle of the sentence he leaned over and kissed me.

  To my surprise I kissed him back.

  Chapter 38

  He watched them from afar. From behind the neighbor's privet hedge. He had been lucky, Allan thought to himself. Lucky to have been able to find her this fast. He hadn't been able to locate her address from the yellow pages by using her phone-number from the business card, but he had been able to locate her father's address by typing in the last name and much to his surprise, he had found her there. There she was.

  When he passed the house in his car for the first time, he saw her walk into the house with what he assumed was her family. Allan had been watching them through the windows with his binoculars for an hour or so before she to his great joy suddenly stepped out in the backyard with a bottle of wine and some guy Allan didn't care much for. There she was. So close to him again. Looking striking in her summer-dress and soft, tanned skin. Deep in a conversation with the guy, laughing, dr
inking wine and even smoking cigarettes.

  Allan listened in on their conversation about the remains of the King Erik Klipping. He himself had been wondering about that story as well. It had taken all too much space in the media, taking space from the abduction of Princess Amalie and her friend, from his story, his masterpiece. Allan growled thinking about it. At this time of year the media normally had nothing to tell, so a story like his would fill everything, would be everywhere, but he hadn't counted on competition from a dead king. Allan got why they liked the story. There was some fascination about that specific person in the country's history, since he was assassinated, stabbed to death and the murder was never solved. But other than that, Allan couldn't see what the fuss was about. Who cared about some old dead king, when there were so many lives to take, so many living that could be killed in so many fascinating ways. Over the years Allan had done many killings, so many he no longer counted them, but to him the fascinating part wasn't why he killed them, but more how. The art of creating a horrific death for someone, and creating it to perfection was his passion.

  With Princess Amalie it was slightly different than his earlier works. With her it was both. It was both the why and the how that was interesting. It was personal. She was chosen for a reason, but that was the first time for him, maybe not the last, since he had quite enjoyed himself so far. It gave the kill an extra touch to it, an extra thrill.

  Normally it didn't matter who she was, as long as she served her purpose. And the girl Camilla? Well she was just there as a way of tormenting the Princess. Seeing her suffer was an extra plus, a bonus. He knew Camilla was one of the very few that the Princess actually cared about. He even knew they had shared a kiss once. He had seen it, when he was watching the Princess, preparing his plan for her death. She had pretended to not like it, but Allan knew she did. He knew she liked Camilla much more than she would care to admit. Allan shook his head while watching the man cough after smoking. All those deceits and lies, he mumbled to himself. Why couldn't they ever just tell the truth? Why had Amalie's parents pretended to be a family even after her mother left? he asked himself. Amalie's mother and father had pretended towards the world to be this happy couple. Whenever they went to anything official, whether it was the opening of a museum that they had to cut the red velvet cord, or if it was gala at the queen's castle, they went together, smiling at the cameras, waving at the people, pretending that everything was alright. But it wasn't. Allan knew it wasn't. The mother had moved to Spain and lived with another man. Why did they insist on deceiving the world like that? Why all the lies?