There's no place like HOME (Emma Frost Book 8) Read online

But the rat didn’t laugh this time either. The numerologist gave up. She looked at the clock. It was almost one.

  One. The perfect number. The number of creation, the primal force from which all other numbers spring forth. One was aggressive; a powerful force that produced results and didn’t allow anything or anyone to limit its potential. One was a number that walked upright with pride and purpose. It was strong, determined, unwavering. A one could turn dreams and ideas into reality.

  It was also the time that both of Emma’s children were done with school. The numerologist waited only a few minutes before both of them drove into the driveway of the house. She watched them walk inside.

  She waited about fifteen minutes more before she got out of the car, and with the pride of the number one, she walked upright and with purpose towards the front door.

  40

  August 2014

  I WAS LATE. Sophia and I had finished our brunch and then gone shoe shopping. I had talked to a woman in a shoe store, and asked her if they had any red shoes. She had found a high-heeled pair that I tried on. I liked them, and ended up buying them. As I paid, I asked the woman casually if she knew how to get a hold of a pair of shoes like the ones Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz.

  “I don’t have any here in the store, but you can buy them online, I’m sure. I would do that if it was me.”

  “Of course,” I said, and paid for my own pair of red shoes. It made sense to buy them online. That way, you could get them without anyone noticing it. It would be something a salesperson would remember if a guy came in and bought two pairs of red ruby slippers. Our killer was way too clever to be seen like that.

  I put away my new shoes in the closet upstairs, and hurried down to the kitchen. I had prepared dough to make a cake for the kids when they got home…to celebrate first day of school. All I had to do was to throw it in the oven for twenty minutes, and then I had to make the topping from coconut flakes and brown sugar. It was an old Danish classic that went by the name of Dream cake. It was the kids’ favorite.

  I made hot chocolate to go with it and coffee for myself. I had barely taken the cake out of the oven and started making the topping when Victor stormed through the front door.

  “Hi, buddy. How was the first day of school?”

  Victor didn’t look at me. I was used to that, but this was different. He seemed upset. “Did something happen?” I asked, and squatted in front of him, trying to look him in the eyes.

  He was breathing heavily. “Someone took my favorite rock,” he said.

  “Who did?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Rasmussen.”

  “Your math teacher. Why did she take your rock?” I asked.

  “Because I kept telling all the answers. She said the other kids won’t learn anything if I keep yelling the answers.”

  “Victor. You know you have to raise your hand like all the other children. We’ve been through this so many times.”

  “Yes. But she never picks me. And the other children are too slow. It’s so easy, and they never get it right. When they get it wrong, I tell them the answer. What’s wrong with that?”

  I sighed. “So, the teacher punished you by taking your favorite rock, huh?”

  “Then I got really mad, and she sent me to the principal’s office. They’ll probably call you later today, the principal told me.”

  “On the first day, huh? Well, that was fast. Any good news?”

  “They have my favorite ice cream at the cafeteria now.”

  “Which one is your favorite?” I asked.

  But Victor had lost interest in the conversation and walked right past me and sat down at the table. He took out his notebook and started writing in it. I was amazed at how fast he was able to write. He was always writing in it, but seldom let me see it. I tried to look over his shoulder while serving him his hot chocolate, but he was covering it up with his hand and thick curly hair.

  Seconds later, Maya stepped in. My heart rate went up. I had been so nervous for her. She walked inside the kitchen and threw herself into a chair. She hardly looked at me.

  Uh-oh!

  “How was your day, sweetheart?” I asked cautiously.

  She looked up at me. I could tell she had been crying. It broke my heart. Maya covered her face with her hands.

  “Maya, honey? What happened?”

  “I’m never going back. I don’t remember anything! I don’t remember anyone. Everybody was staring at me and pointing fingers and I had no idea who they were or if I knew them or not. I didn’t even know who used to be my friends. It was awful. I’m never going back. I’ll stay home forever.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so so sorry. What about Annika? She used to be your best friend, didn’t she help you?”

  “Yes. She was very nice to me. But I feel weird around her. I feel like I don’t know her. And we’re so different. I don’t think we have anything in common. I’m not even sure I like her. I can’t believe she used to be my best friend. What is happening to me, Mom? Have I changed that much?”

  I put my arm around her and pulled her closer. “I don’t know, sweetie. I think you’re just trying to find yourself right now…figure out who you really are.”

  I held her for a little while longer, wondering if she really had changed. I felt it too. She was different somehow. Was it just a phase? Would she pull through it, or was it here to stay?

  Maya sniveled and I wiped away a tear. “It was terrible, Mom. I didn’t remember anything. It was hard to understand what the teacher was saying. Math was the worst.”

  “Well, math was never your strongest subject,” I said.

  The clock on the oven beeped. “I made Dream cake,” I said, trying hard to sound cheerful.

  Victor didn’t react. Maya sniveled again. “I think I need to study. I’m not hungry anyway.”

  She got up and left the kitchen. Victor stopped writing, closed the notebook, and put it back in his backpack, then stormed out of the kitchen without so much as a word. I looked at the cake on the counter. It smelled so good. I shrugged and cut myself a piece, then grabbed a cup of coffee and started eating. My stomach was in a knot. I felt like crying, but I didn’t. Eating the cake made me feel better, so I grabbed another piece. I thought about Morten, about Michael my ex-husband, about the killings, and my poor children. I felt awful, so I grabbed another piece and more coffee. It wasn’t like I had anyone in my life I needed to lose those pounds for anyway. It didn’t matter anymore.

  Was that why he left me? Did he finally have enough of my eating and gaining weight?

  The thought made me eat more. With every bite I took, I felt more disgusted with myself, but I continued anyway. I could hear Morten’s voice in my head telling me to stop, telling me I was overeating because I was emotional, that I was simply drowning my emotions with food. I knew he was right; I just didn’t know what to do about it. I wasn’t the type who cried when things were bad in my life. I just wasn’t. This was what I did. Some people drank. I ate.

  I would have eaten the entire cake, but had only managed about a third, when the doorbell suddenly rang. I swallowed the big bite I had just taken, drank some coffee to wash it down, and walked over to open the door. Part of me wished it was Morten who had come to say he wanted to come back, but I knew it wasn’t him. I had hoped for weeks now that he would come, but in vain. I wasn’t going to hope for it anymore. I had to focus on moving on, and right now, I had bigger issues than him. I had to figure out what to do to help my daughter get back to being herself again. Maybe I could get her a tutor? Someone to help her get better at her schoolwork at least?

  I pulled the door open and looked into the face of a pretty, widely smiling face of an Asian woman. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Mrs. Frost?” she said.

  “Yes?”

  We shook hands.

  “I’m very honored to meet you, Mrs. Frost. I have enjoyed and devoured ever
y book you’ve written.”

  “Oh, well, thank you. What was your name again?” I asked, thinking she was just a fan stopping by to tell me she loved my books. I’d had a few of those, especially over the summer when all the tourists came to the island. My books had recently been translated into German, and Fanoe Island attracted a lot of German tourists, since it was close to the border.

  “Sonnichsen. Dr. Sonnichsen.”

  “Well, Dr. Sonnichsen. Let me just get a pen.”

  The woman looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”

  “To sign your book? I assume you brought one?” I asked.

  The woman laughed. It sounded a little strange. I blushed slightly, realizing I had made a mistake.

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Frost. I’m not here for you…even though I do like your books. I’m here for your daughter.”

  “For Maya? I don’t think I understand…”

  “I was sent here by your social worker. I’m an occupational therapist. My specialty field is children with amnesia.”

  I froze completely. Could this really be? Was there really an expert in amnesia patients right here on my front step? I was startled, baffled, blown away. I had searched for someone like her for months, but they were almost impossible to get ahold of.

  “You say a social worker sent you?”

  “Yes. Apparently, you contacted her regarding your daughter, uhm, Maya, was it?”

  I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes I did. I called several times over the summer and left messages for her, but I had no idea she would actually react.”

  Dr. Sonnichsen chuckled. “Well, she did. I know people usually don’t think much of our social welfare system, but, from time to time, it actually works pretty well. Your social worker talked to your doctor, Dr. Faaborg, and they agreed the best way to deal with this was to send me. So, here I am. And I’m all paid for by the county, so you don’t have to worry about that. But enough talking. I’ve come here for Maya. I would like to meet her.”

  “Of course,” I said. I was still staring, completely baffled, at the woman. I felt like I was dreaming.

  “So, are you going to let me come in?”

  “Naturally,” I said, laughing at myself. I stepped aside immediately and let her walk inside my house. I stared at her while closing the door. I wanted to kiss her and hug her and tell her she was the answer to my prayers. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, some luck was coming my way.

  “She’s upstairs studying. I’ll go get her,” I said, my voice vibrating with excitement. “You can wait in the kitchen if you like. I baked a cake. Help yourself to a piece.”

  41

  January 2010

  “I’M COMING HOME.”

  Louise was clasping the phone so hard her fingers started hurting.

  “What was that again?” she asked, her voice shivering.

  “I’m being released,” Bjarke said.

  “But…but…how? Why?”

  “They found the person who did it. They found the real killer. Isn’t it wonderful? Finally, we can be together. Finally, it’s just you and me.”

  Louise had no idea how to answer. After six months of being married to Bjarke, she had gotten used to the way things were. She liked visiting him every week, and even better, she liked that she always knew where he was.

  Now, that was about to change.

  “Aren’t you thrilled, babe?” he asked, his voice almost cracking in joy.

  “Sss…sure I am.”

  “Then, why don’t you sound happy?”

  “Guess I’m just really surprised, that’s all.”

  “Me too. I can’t believe it. They just told me a minute ago. Walked right into my cell and told me I was free to leave. I’m so happy. You have no idea what it’s like to sit in here for something you didn’t do. I had given up hope. This is amazing. We can finally start our life together.”

  “So, you…you are free to go, like, right now?” Louise asked. Her hands were trembling.

  Everything is so good the way it is. Why does it have to change?

  “Well, they have to finish the paperwork. I’ve been told that I’ll be released at noon.”

  “Noon? And then what?”

  “Then I’ll take the first train out of here. That way I can be on Fanoe Island by dinnertime. Would you make me a dinner, Louise?”

  Louise had no idea what to say. She wanted to throw the phone away and start running. She had never been with Bjarke for more than a few hours at a time before. Now what? Now he was coming here? Was he going to sleep here? Would he live here? Did she dare to have him here?

  Stop it, you fool. You love him, remember? You believed he was innocent from the start. Now he is. Be happy. He’s your husband.

  Louise closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Of course I will,” she said. “Do you like lasagna?”

  “Are you kidding? I love lasagna. It’s my favorite dish. Oh, my God, I can’t believe this is really happening. Yeehah. I’m free, Louise. I’m free!”

  “I…I can’t believe it either. So who was it? Who killed your ex-girlfriend and her kids?”

  “Some lunatic. They haven’t told me much about it. Actually, they didn’t even tell me anything. Just that they were letting me go. New development in the case, they said. I heard something from another inmate. He told me he heard that they had found new evidence incriminating someone else for it. I guess it must have been pretty hard evidence, huh? What do I care? I’m a free man. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Louise. I can’t wait to see your island that you’ve talked about so endearingly. I can‘t wait to get away from all this. You have no idea how depressing it is in here, Louise. But it’s all in the past now. It’s over. No more visiting hours. Now, we can be with each other all hours of the day. Just you and me, baby. Just you and me. Me and the missus.”

  “I…I…I can’t wait.”

  Bjarke sighed deeply. “Oh, and by the way…I’ve changed my name. I don’t want the world to look at me and see a murderer. ‘Cause I know they will. Even if I’m released, they’ll always see me that way, Louise. So, now, I’m a new person.”

  “Okay, so what’s your name now?” she asked.

  “Melander. Jesper Melander.”

  “Guess that makes me Mrs. Melander, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I like it.”

  42

  August 2014

  JESPER MELANDER PUT the black slippers on a newspaper in the bathroom. It was important to use a well-ventilated place, or the smell would be awful.

  Jesper shook the spray can and sprayed the shoes, coloring them red, making sure it was even all over. He didn’t want them to look cheap, or even homemade. Then, he set them to dry.

  While waiting, Jesper looked at the listing on his computer…that lovely yellow house that now had the sign across its picture online that said that sweet enchanting word: SOLD.

  It had taken some time for the young couple to get the loan through the bank, and it almost fell through at one point. It had been quite the drama. But now, the house was finally theirs, and they were receiving the keys by the end of this week. The house had been empty for two years, so they could take over right away.

  Jesper could hardly wait.

  It had been three weeks since his last kill, and he was getting hungry. It had been hard to restrain himself. It was like Pandora’s Box. He couldn’t close it again. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed to kill again, and even having to wait till the end of the week required all of his restraint, all of his self-control and discipline.

  Ten hours later, he picked up the shoes and checked if the paint was dry. It was. He picked up the glue gun that was all warmed up and sat at the kitchen table. He grabbed the bag of large red sequins and dropped them on the table. Carefully, he placed a dab of hot glue on the tip of the shoe.

  Don’t use too much, or it’ll look ugly. Don’t want to have to start all over like the last time, do we?

  With a pair of tweezers, he picked up a sequin and pla
ced it in the glue.

  Place them as close together as possible, but don't shove them together, you idiot!

  Once the first was on, the rest were easier. Jesper placed another dab of hot glue, then placed a sequin on that as well. Then he smiled, while continuing. Soon, he was singing:

  Yeh, it's sad, believe me, Missy

  When you're born to be a sissy

  Without the vim and verve

  But I could change my habits

  Never more be scared of rabbits

  If I only had the nerve

  I'm afraid there's no denying

  I'm just an awful dandy-lion

  A fate I don't deserve

  But I could show my prowess

  Be a lion, not a mouse

  If I only had the nerve

  The shoes were coming along fine now. Slowly, those boring ordinary black shoes became sparkling and red, looking like those from a fairy tale.

  “Oh, you’re going to look so pretty, my angel, wearing the ruby red shoes from your dreams. Never prettier…never prettier, they’ll write in the papers. Yes, they will. They’ll write that she was so beautiful…quiet and peaceful, naked, dressed in nothing but the most enchanting ruby red slippers, lying on top of the bed in her new home. There certainly is no place to die like in your home. East or west, home is best. Isn’t it, dearie? It sure is. It sure is.”

  Jesper lifted the sparkling shoes into the air, and then shook them to see if any sequins were loose. He held them up to the light and smiled.

  Just try and stay out of my way. Just try! I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too!

  43

  August 2014

  DR. SONNICHSEN CAME every afternoon all week. She spent hours with Maya in the living room, going through what she remembered and what she didn’t, taking notes and assessing her.