There's no place like HOME (Emma Frost Book 8) Page 11

  I leaned back in my chair. I was startled. Shocked. “I…I had no idea. How terrible. How truly awful.”

  Morten pushed his plate to the middle of the table and got up. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he said.

  I stared at him. I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t do this anymore. Any of it. It’s too much for one guy to handle. I’m sorry, Emma. I need some time to think. I need a break from us, from all this…I…”

  He looked around like he was searching for something. He paused. I didn’t like the silence. It was like he was making an important decision. It scared me like crazy. I wanted to yell at him, to talk sense into him, tell him to sit down so we could talk properly like we used to. We always used to be able to talk things over. Why couldn’t we do that now? What had happened to us?

  I wanted to say all those things, but I waited too long. Before I knew it, he looked at me and said the words I didn’t want to hear.

  “I need to go.”

  36

  July 2014

  JESPER MELANDER WAS on fire. Everything was just going perfectly, wasn’t it? Just perfectly. Even better than he had ever imagined. The gruesomeness of his killings was all over the newspapers this Monday morning, and he could hardly contain his joy. He couldn’t keep it inside. He burst into a giggle and started clapping.

  He felt like a genius…a freaking composer directing his orchestra.

  The papers called him a beast, a predator, a monster, and a psychopath. On TV, they had experts telling people about his motives, analyzing him.

  Boy, they couldn’t be more wrong.

  He loved the fact was that he was the one orchestrating this whole thing; they had no idea how he was pulling the strings, making sure they only saw what he wanted them to see.

  And he had never felt more alive.

  He threw the paper with Jacob and Christine Hansen’s faces on the cover on the passenger seat, then looked out the window across the street. A smile spread across his face. There they were. He spotted them in the distance, walking towards the house.

  “There you are, my little ones,” he mumbled. “That’s right. Look at the house, fall in love. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”

  The couple looked at the front door, then the windows, then walked back and forth a little. Jesper could see that the wife liked it. The husband wasn’t so sure, but he wanted to please the wife. He wanted her to be happy.

  “Look at those beautiful small-paned windows. They’re gorgeous,” Jesper Melander said, trying to sound like the woman.

  Speaking in a deep voice, trying to sound like the husband, he said: “Yes. They are nice, but not very practical. Think of how hard they’ll be to clean.”

  “Oh, but honey. It’s such a pretty house. I really like it, don’t you? Would you buy me this house? I think we could be very happy here.” He continued in a high-pitched female voice.

  Then, he laughed at himself. It was amazing how all the couples were so alike. So boringly similar. Luckily for them, he was about to make them more than that. Yes, Jesper was about to make them spectacular.

  The hairs on his arm rose at the very thought. Oh, what a joy this was. He wished he could go on with this forever and ever. It was the most fun he’d had in his entire life. Who would have thought it would be such an exciting experience? Such a thrill? He knew it was close to his latest kill, and he wanted to make sure they were absolutely perfect before he acted on it. He didn’t want to rush this and risk making a mistake, but when opportunity knocks…well then you grab it, right?

  Jesper grabbed the steering wheel in excitement and held onto it tight. His knuckles were turning white while he was humming one of his favorite songs from his favorite movie of all time:

  I'd be brave as a blizzard…

  I'd be gentle as a lizard…

  I'd be clever as a gizzard…

  If the Wizard is a Wizard who will serve.

  Then I'm sure to get a brain, a heart, a home, the nerve!

  Jesper tasted blood in his mouth and realized his nose had started bleeding. He let go of the steering wheel, found a napkin, and wiped off the blood. He liked the pattern it made in the napkin. It looked like flowers as it was spreading slowly.

  He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, then chuckled. He crumpled the napkin up and threw it on the floor of the car, then his eyes returned to the waiting couple outside the small yellow house that they seemed to adore.

  Jesper Melander studied them closely. They really seemed to like the house already, didn’t they? He could tell by the looks on their faces. And they hadn’t even seen it on the inside yet. The wife was smiling. But, more importantly, so was the husband. He was the one sitting on the money. In the end, he was going to make the final decision. It could take days, maybe even weeks, but Jesper would wait for them. He wasn’t in a hurry. It had to be them. It was like waiting for an apple to be ripe. The thought and anticipation of how juicy it would be to sink your teeth into it was almost the best part.

  Well almost.

  Jesper’s legs couldn’t stay still in the car. He was tapping them in excitement. Oh, this couple was so perfect. Especially her. She was beautiful…gorgeous, actually, and would make a wonderful corpse. She wasn’t beautiful in the way most people found a woman to be beautiful. But to Jesper, she was striking. He liked them fierce and raw. He could already picture her photo on the cover of his newspaper. Best of all were her small delicate feet. He couldn’t think of a better set of feet to wear the shoes, his shoes. Oh, what a delight. How he hoped they would buy this house.

  It would be so much FUN!

  37

  August 2014

  THREE WEEKS LATER, my kids were going back to school. I was thrilled at the prospect of being able to finally get some work done while they were away, but I was terrified to send Maya back there without her memory.

  A couple of days before school started, I had a meeting with her teachers and the principal at the school and made them aware of her situation. They promised me that Maya would get extra teaching, and they would do anything in their power to help her. They were surprisingly kind and encouraging, and it made me slightly more at ease.

  Still, I had no idea how she was supposed to manage in class when she remembered absolutely nothing of school.

  “Maybe it’ll come back to her once she gets back into her familiar surroundings,” Dr. Faaborg told me, when I called in desperation and asked him how I was supposed to deal with this.

  “But she doesn’t remember anything. She can read and write, that’s it. She has no recollection of things they’ve learned, of books she has read, and doing math problems with her is like starting all over from scratch.”

  “She might remember things along the way. The important thing is to not panic. She’ll be fine eventually,” he said.

  “I sure hope so.”

  “Don’t worry so much. It’s not helping Maya. Take one day at a time. By the way, how is the book coming along? I’ll get my signed copy, right?”

  I chuckled. Dr. Faaborg was one of my biggest fans. “Don’t worry so much, Doctor.”

  Now I was standing in the doorway, kissing both of them goodbye, and wondering how it had all come to this point. I hadn’t seen or heard from Morten since the day he left me in my kitchen alone with a half eaten jam-sandwich and the words I don’t think I can do this anymore.

  I knew he was working the case of the two double homicides. I had followed the investigation closely by hacking into the Danish police force’s computer system that, to my surprise, remained very poorly protected. I had seen forensic reports from the second kill, and it was all still a mystery to everyone who was behind this. Luckily, there hadn’t been any more killings for three weeks, and I hoped it was over, that the killer maybe had been just passing through or maybe he was done. Maybe it had been a revenge motive of some sort, and now he
was done. I just couldn’t see the connection between the two sets of victims. The couples didn’t know each other, and all they had in common was the fact that they were newly wed and had just bought their first houses. In the first case, the killer had taken the husband’s heart; in the second, he had cut out his brain. The nature of the killings was so gruesome it made the hairs stand up on my back just by thinking about them. I had searched everywhere to see if there were cases similar to these two, but hadn’t found anything yet.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be fine,” Maya said and kissed me. Then she walked down the stairs with her backpack. I had some serious butterflies in my stomach. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was nervous as well. She just didn’t want me to know. She didn’t want me to worry.

  “I know, sweetie,” I replied, and waved at her as she took her bike and drove off. I had taken the trip to the school with her on our bikes every day for a week to make sure she knew the route and wasn’t concerned about biking to school. At first, I told her I would drive her, but she found that to be extremely embarrassing, since all the other kids rode their bikes to school.

  Even Victor.

  At nine years of age, he was getting so tall I could hardly believe he was the same little boy. He drove off with a wave.

  “Have a great day!” I yelled after him.

  “You always say that,” he yelled back.

  So, that was it. I was alone. The silence was nice, but a little unbearable. Luckily, Sophia had the day off and didn’t start working until the next day. She only worked part-time as a music-teacher at Victor’s school, and only had to work three days a week. All of her six kids were back in school and day-care, and she wanted to celebrate by us going out for a nice brunch together.

  I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day.

  38

  August 2014

  “COULD IT HAVE something to do with that curtain guy?”

  Sophia took a bite of her salmon sandwich while I spoke. “I mean, it is kind of weird that he was the one to find both of them, right?”

  Sophia swallowed and shook her head. “What is it with you and those killings? It’s like you’re obsessed with them. Leave it alone already. It’s been three weeks. It’s over. He’s gone.”

  I drank my Coke. Café Mimosa had some new paintings on the walls. They were all Jack’s. They had ocean and beach motifs. I love all of them. He used such wonderful colors and captured the light just perfectly in them. On the table behind us sat Lisa Rasmussen, a member of the city council who was having a meeting with two other members. She was talking very loudly. It sounded like she was talking to a crowd of children, but it was to two adults. She sounded really annoyed with them. The election for Mayor was coming up this fall, and she was running. I had never cared much for her, but she had done a very good job cleaning up the town and our beaches. I had to give her that much. I almost laughed, thinking about the time Lisa Rasmussen had taken down a killer in this very same Café. It was quite impressive. Maybe I would give her my vote after all. I didn’t know. I was indecisive about her. She seemed a little mad to me, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing in politics. She got the work done, that was for sure.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe I should just let it go. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “You just want to write a book about it,” Sophia said, laughing.

  “I really do,” I said. “Is that terrible? I often feel like I’m exploiting these people’s tragedy.”

  “Nah,” Sophia said. “You’re a great writer. It’s what you do. You should be proud of it. At least something good comes out of them dying.”

  I chuckled. Sophia could always get something positive out of everything. I had known her almost two years now, and I had really grown to love her. I knew she would always be there for me. That was worth a whole lot in my book.

  “But it is kind of a strange coincidence that they both used the same curtain guy, don’t you think?” I asked.

  Sophia grinned. “You just can’t leave it alone, can you? All right, let’s get it out. So, you think this curtain guy, what’s his name…?

  “Peter Wagn.”

  “Peter Wagn. You seriously think he did it, then returned to the scene and fainted?”

  I shrugged. “Why not? It is, after all, the perfect alibi. No one would ever suspect him. This killer is cunning, if you ask me. Peter could be playing a role…pretending to be fragile. Plus, serial killers have been known to return to the scene of the crime afterwards. They like to look at their work. At least that’s what Morten has told me. And we’re looking for a guy who knows that these people just bought a house, right? Well, the curtain guy knew.”

  Sophia nodded, while chewing. “True. But so did the moving company, contractors, the realtor…just to mention a few. Besides, the Curtain Company is the only one of its kind on the island, so it’s not that strange that they both would call them. Just bad luck for poor Peter Wagn.”

  She made a good point. Lots of people were involved when you bought a new home. “I can’t stop thinking about the shoes,” I said. “I mean, where do you even buy a pair of shoes like that? Let alone two pairs?”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Sophia exclaimed. “These aren’t ordinary shoes.”

  “Thank you! Morten laughed at me every time I brought it up. Told me I was such a girl.”

  “Any news on that front?” Sophia asked.

  I paused and drank. Then I shook my head. “Not a word. I can’t believe he would just walk out on me this way.”

  “You miss him?”

  “Yeah. Like crazy. But I’ve been a good girl. Only called him three times and hung up.”

  “That’s my girl. Give him time.”

  I sighed. That was exactly what I was trying to do. But it was so hard. Especially when I knew he was so close by. Every day, I had to fight the urge to just drop by, either at his home or at the police station. I kept coming up with excuses for going there, but so far, I had been able to keep my cool and stay away. Besides, I had no idea what to say to him. I just hoped he missed me as much as I missed him. But as the days passed by without a word from him, I doubted it more and more.

  “Any news from the ex?” Sophia asked.

  “A letter from his lawyer, if that counts as news,” I said. “He’s demanding full custody of Victor. Can you believe him? Two years ago, the guy told me he couldn’t handle him, and that it was too much for his new wife to have him for even a weekend. Now he wants him full time?”

  “So, did you respond to the letter?”

  “I did. I told them I’d take it all the way to court if I had to. He wasn’t getting anywhere near my child.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  39

  August 2014

  IT WAS FIRST day of school for all the kids in the country. Facebook was packed with pictures of happy children wearing their backpacks and nice outfits, and their even happier parents.

  The numerologist loved this day, even though she didn’t have any children. It was the fourth of August, so the day’s number was three. Three was a good number. Perfect for a new beginning, and that was exactly what the numerologist was about to have.

  Today, she started the second part of her plan. She had studied Emma Frost and found her weaknesses. Now it was time to use that knowledge.

  It was just about to get interesting.

  She had watched the house since the morning when the kids left for school, and later when Emma took her bike to town along with that annoying neighbor of hers who had six kids.

  Six kids? Didn’t the woman have any self-control?

  Now, she watched as Emma and Sophia returned and said their goodbyes. The numerologist looked at her watch. There were only fifteen minutes till the kids came home. The first day was a short day. Emma had a bag in her hand. She had been shopping. It looked like she had bought herself a pair of shoes.

  Misty was nibbling on a piece of b
read in the passenger seat next to her.

  “I know you’re sad, Misty darling. But you can’t go. No you can’t. They won’t allow rats in there with me. They probably wouldn’t even let me come inside if they saw you. Yes, Mommy knows you always come with me everywhere, but this time you just can’t, all right? You have to stay in the car till I get back. This has to be perfect to succeed.”

  The numerologist looked at her new face in the mirror once again. She still hadn’t gotten used to looking so differently.

  I just hope they won’t recognize me. What if they can see it in my eyes? What if I lose one of the colored contacts?

  “Nonsense,” she told herself in the mirror. “They won’t suspect a thing. The plan is perfect.”

  The numerologist picked up the rat and pet her on the back. Then she kissed it on the snout. The whiskers tickled her face. The numerologist thought about Emma Frost and her children. She realized she had grown to like them more than she wanted to. She felt a pinch of sadness in her heart. It was always the children that got hurt in the process, wasn’t it?

  “Well, I guess that’s not our problem, is it, Misty? It wasn’t like Emma Frost thought about what it cost us when she destroyed our baby, was it? No, she ruined years of research without even thinking about how much it meant to us. Yes, indeed, she did.”

  Misty answered with a squeak. The numerologist tickled her stomach. She had recently read in a study from Washington State University that rats could actually laugh when tickled on their stomachs, so she had been doing that to Misty a lot lately. Misty seemed to love it, but hadn’t made a sound yet. The numerologist really wanted to hear her rat laugh.

  “Laugh for Mommy. Come on, Misty, you can do it. Oh, come on. Just a little giggle for Mommy?”