There's no place like HOME (Emma Frost Book 8) Page 15

  “What? No cake or buns? You’re not baking today?” she asked.

  I poured her a cup of coffee.

  “I’m not really in the mood,” I said. I smiled awkwardly. The fact was, I had been on a baking frenzy all weekend and had just finished the rest of the carrot cake from the day before by myself. I was too embarrassed to tell Sophia, but I hadn’t stopped eating all weekend. It was the only thing that kept me from thinking about the killings and about Morten.

  “That’s not like you,” she said.

  I sat with my cup between my hands and stared into the black coffee. Images of the woman on the bed flickered before my eyes.

  “Can’t blame you,” Sophia continued. “I’m still freaking out as well. Did you hear the latest?”

  “No, what?”

  “I read it in the paper this morning, but apparently the killer cut something out of the husband.”

  “I had a feeling he might have,” I said. My heart started pounding. “What was it this time? The heart, the brain again?”

  She shook her head. “No, it was way weirder than that. It was a nerve or something. Something that starts with an s.”

  I grabbed my laptop and found the article online from today’s paper. I had stayed offline all morning, trying to keep my thoughts in other places.

  “It’s called the sciatic nerve,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  I Googled it. “Apparently it’s the longest and widest single nerve in the human body. It goes from the top of the leg to the foot.”

  I looked at Sophia. She made a grimace. “Why on earth…?

  “What’s going on here?” I asked and leaned back. “What is this guy up to?”

  “First he takes the heart, then the brain and now a…a nerve from someone?”

  “The heart, the brain, the nerve, where have I heard that before?” I stared at Sophia while it all came to me. “The heart, the brain, the nerve,” I repeated over and over again, slowly remembering the song. I Googled it and found the lyrics. Then I started singing:

  “If I only had the nerve…”

  Sophia jumped in.

  “I'm afraid there's no denyin' I'm just a dandelion, A fate I don't deserve…”

  “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…” I stared at Sophia, while we both sang the last sentence of the song in unison:

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

  52

  August 2014

  “WHAT DO YOU make of it?”

  Sophia looked agitated. She sipped her coffee, while looking at me like she expected me to know everything.

  “He’s obsessed with the movie,” I said.

  “Some obsession.”

  “Pretty creepy,” I said, and sipped my coffee, while wondering what we could use this for. These were all the things the Lion, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow and Dorothy wanted to get from the Wizard of Oz. The Tin Man needed a heart, The Scarecrow needed a brain, and the Lion needed courage, the nerve. So the killer collected all of these things. Did that mean he was done?

  “He still hasn’t gotten what Dorothy wanted,” I said.

  “What?” Sophia asked. She looked confused.

  “He has all the things the others wanted, the heart, the brain, the nerve, but he hasn’t gotten what Dorothy wanted yet.”

  “And what was that?”

  “A home. She wanted to go home.”

  Sophia scoffed. “So you think he’ll steal someone’s house next?”

  “Maybe. Who knows what he’ll come up with?”

  There was a fumbling by the front door and I heard Maya enter. She stuck her face through the door to the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she yelled.

  “Hi, sweetie. How was your day? Do you want something to eat?”

  “No, I have homework. Maybe later.”

  Then she left.

  “I’d better get back,” Sophia said. She finished her coffee. “My kids will start pouring in as well in a few minutes.”

  I gave her a hug. “See you later.”

  A few minutes passed before Victor came through the door. As usual, he stormed into the kitchen and sat at his chair, waiting for his food to magically appear.

  So, I toasted some bread and served it with jam on it. He hadn’t slept well lately either and looked pale.

  “So, how have you been, buddy?” I asked. “Is school getting better?”

  He didn’t answer. He stared at the table while chewing. Small talk didn’t interest him. But, I figured that since he didn’t say anything, he’d had a good day. I reached into my pocket and pulled something out and placed it on the table in front of him.

  “I found this rock this morning while taking my walk on the beach. You think you’d like it?” I asked.

  Finally, he lifted his eyes. He stared at the yellow rock. He had been into rocks a lot lately. Rocks and trees were his entire life.

  He grabbed it and looked at it in the light. I felt really proud, seeing the smile on his face. He felt it in his hand, then hit it against his front tooth.

  “It’s amber, Mom.”

  “Really? Well, I had a feeling you would know what it was. It’s yours if you want it.”

  Victor looked at me and smiled. “Thanks.”

  My heart skipped a beat. It was so rare that I got to make my son happy. It felt so good, the few times I succeeded.

  “It’s going in my collection,” he said and stood up, then stormed through the house. I heard the door to the yard slam, and knew he would be busy for the next several hours. It made me happy to know he was happy out there with his rocks and trees.

  I had just finished cleaning up his food, when Dr. Sonnichsen arrived. I let her in and called for Maya, who ran down the stairs. She was always looking so much forward to the sessions with Dr. Sonnichsen, and especially today, since it had been the weekend.

  They went into the living room to do their thing, and I returned to the kitchen and started preparing dinner. I looked at my laptop while peeling potatoes. I hadn’t gotten much work done today, either, and was starting to get stressed out about this book. All I needed was to edit two chapters, but somehow, I couldn’t find the energy to do it. I kept wondering about the strange Wizard of Oz-killer. Then, I thought about Morten, who was all alone trying to crack the case. I knew he was probably very frustrated by now.

  Once I was done with the potatoes, I turned on the small TV in my kitchen and started watching the news. I turned up the volume as they came to the killings on Fanoe Island. Apparently, the woman had woken up, and they had made a police sketch of the killer from her memory. They showed the drawings and told the viewers to contact the local police if they saw this man.

  “He is considered very dangerous, so do not approach him if you see him,” the anchor said insistently.

  I looked the drawing up on the TV station’s website and printed it out. I stared at it for a little while. It was very close to what I believed he looked like…the long hair in a ponytail, the goatee, the sunglasses covering his eyes. Yes, that was exactly the man I had seen. In the description, it said he was wearing a leather vest and jeans.

  I couldn’t remember that. But I did remember the ponytail and sunglasses. I had told Morten about those two things as well when I had given my description.

  I sat by my computer for a little while, staring at the picture, and couldn’t figure out where I had seen him before. There was something familiar about him. Was he some sort of celebrity?

  I put the picture down and returned to my Danish meatballs, frikadeller. I turned them in the pan and turned the heat down a little so they wouldn’t burn. Dr. Sonnichsen came into the kitchen.

  “We’re done for the day,” she said. “Just wanted to let you know, we started a new program, and Maya is responding very positively to it. I’m starting to ge
t my hopes up.”

  My heart dropped. Such a relief. “I’m so glad to hear that,” I said. “You have no idea…”

  “What’s this?” Dr. Sonnichsen suddenly said, and picked up the police sketch from the kitchen table.

  “Ah, it’s just a sketch of the guy who possibly killed our neighbors and two other couples.”

  “Ah, him. Well, good thing that they now have a drawing. He looks awfully familiar, though, don’t you think?”

  “Yes! Thank you,” I said, and set the spatula down. I approached the doctor and looked at the picture with her. “I do think he looks very familiar. But I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before. Do you know?”

  She looked pensive. “He kind of looks like that guy who runs those self-help classes. You know, where a man can learn how to become a man again.”

  “Ah, yeah,” I exclaimed. “That’s it. He looks just like that annoying guy who takes men into the woods to have them run around naked until they feel comfortable with their penises again. Yes, that’s right. It does look like him. A lot.”

  “He has a place here on the island where he lives and has the classes. It’s a farm, I believe. It caused a lot of turmoil when he moved there, I remember. I lived in Copenhagen then, but I clearly remember the stories. Wasn’t he accused of killing his ex-girlfriend and her sons once?” Dr. Sonnichsen asked.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Now I remember him. And of killing his mother, many years back. But he was acquitted for all of them, as far as I remember. And he got married and changed his name, so no one would know who he was, which was odd because the name change was all over the newspapers. What was the new name again?”

  “Jesper Melander.”

  53

  August 2014

  I COULDN’T STOP thinking about what Dr. Sonnichsen said for the rest of the evening. We had dinner and I talked on the phone with my dad. He and my mom were heading back to the island tomorrow, they told me.

  After getting the kids to bed, I sat down with my computer and started researching this Jesper Melander.

  There was a lot written about him and his so-called Male-classes. According to the articles I found, Jesper Melander was originally called Bjarke Lund, but he changed his name after the media had named him the psychopathic killer of the century. It was understandable enough that he wanted to start over after being acquitted, I thought to myself.

  Apparently, he had gotten married while still in prison, and as soon as he was freed, he had moved in with her, but the press still wouldn’t leave them alone. And neither would the people. No matter where the woman went, people would tell her how stupid she was for marrying a killer.

  So, they moved to the countryside. In her last interview I could find, the woman, whose name was Louise Melander, told the journalist that they were going to move away from everything to be able to live in peace.

  But the husband had not kept his face out of the papers. He had gotten an education as a therapist, and a few years later, he had started what he called The Caveman School. In several articles, they wrote about how men paid a lot of money to be able to act like wild savages. They would run around the forests, naked, and yell and scream like cavemen.

  “We’re taking back our malehood,” Jesper Melander said in one article. “And women are going to learn to love it.”

  There were pictures of men in mud fights, men fighting wearing sumo suits, and swinging from ropes between the trees, while apparently screaming like Tarzan. There were pictures of men being baptized in beer, fighting with clubs, and even one of a man lying on top of a car, while Jesper Melander drove through the marshland trying to get him to fall off.

  It was so ridiculous I had to laugh. Who would pay money for such a class? Well, apparently, it had a lot of success, according to the articles, and Jesper Melander had become quite wealthy over the years, since his release in 2010.

  I leaned back in my chair and wondered about this guy. If I could see that it was him in the drawing, then the police had to be able to see it as well, didn’t they? Or maybe not.

  I searched a little more and found an old clip from an interview he had done, back when he was first accused of killing his mother. I clicked it and started watching. As I did, my heart started racing. The guy had painted his face green, like the Wicked Witch of the West!

  That was enough proof for me. This guy was obviously into The Wizard of Oz, just like our killer. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

  It was time to follow the urge and call Morten.

  My hands were shaking, as I found his number and pressed the button.

  “Hello, Morten? Hi, it’s Emma.”

  A long devastating silence broke out.

  Oh no! Why did I do this? Why did I call him? He hates me, doesn’t he?

  “Emma!”

  He sounds happy. Why does he sound happy?

  “How are you? I’ve been thinking about you since Friday night. Are you alright?”

  I exhaled in relief. He wasn’t mad that I called. I felt tears pressing from behind my eyes.

  “I…I’m okay, I guess. It hasn’t been fun, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “I know, Emma. I’m so sorry for…well for everything. I haven’t been myself lately.” He sighed before he continued. “I…since I saw you Friday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I realized how much I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” It was getting harder to hold back the tears now, but I fought with everything I had to do it anyway. He wasn’t going to make me cry. I was angry with him.

  “So, what’s up?” he asked. “Why did you call?”

  “I saw the sketch on TV and printed it out. I was wondering if you recognized him as well.” I said, swallowing my pride. I wanted so badly to ask him to come over…to come and stay the night. Tell him I missed his arms, that I would forgive him for walking out on me, for not making me the first priority in his life.

  “Yes. I know,” he said with a heavy voice. “It looks a lot like Jesper Melander, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, good. You see it as well. So, what will happen next?”

  “He is definitely our main suspect right now, but so far, all we have is the drawing. I went out there today and questioned him and he had alibis for every killing. They were all women whom he had slept with on the nights of the killings.”

  I was surprised to hear that. “So, I take it you couldn’t take him in?”

  “Nope. But I’m working on it. Believe me. We’ve taken a DNA sample, and we’re running it against what we have from the scene.”

  “You found DNA on the scene?” I asked hopefully.

  “We found a hair that didn’t belong to any of the victims, yes. On the bed in the house where he struck on Friday. As soon as we have the result on that one and it proves positive, we’ll take him in. Don’t you worry about that.”

  “I guess I won’t then. I’m so glad you’ve cracked the case,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t say I cracked it. It’s still too early to celebrate, but at least we’re heading somewhere,” he said.

  An awkward silence broke out between us again. I thought of a thousand things to say, but they all seemed so dull and stupid.

  “So, how have you been?” I asked, fearing he would hang up if I didn’t say anything.

  “Busy. And you?”

  “Busy too. Trying to finish my book. It’s taking a lot longer than I expected it to.”

  “It always does,” he said, distracted.

  Silence again. Should I just say goodbye and hang up? It was beginning to feel painful. But I wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. I had missed talking to him so terribly, and now I finally had the chance.

  “So…” he said. “I should…”

  Then he paused.

  Oh, that dreadful silence between us. How had it come to this? We used to talk about everything!

  That’s when it happened. The thing I didn’t want to happen. I said the only thing I had promised myself I was
n’t going to say, “I still love you, you know.”

  I don’t know how it happened. I just blurted it out. I had kept silent for so long. I guess I just wanted to say it.

  I closed my eyes and wished I could take it back.

  Oh, my God. He’s wondering what to say next without hurting me. Why did I call him? Why? He was supposed to call me and tell me how much he missed me. Why did I call him?

  I heard a sigh from the other end. It wasn’t good. It was deep and troubled.

  “I…”

  He was looking for the words. I wondered if I should just hang up right away. Save myself the embarrassment.

  “I still love you too,” he said.

  My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I thought he had moved on. What did this mean?

  “It’s just…well, it’s a little complicated right now,” he said, speaking in a low voice.

  Who was in the room next to him that he didn’t want to hear him say these words to me? Was he with another woman? What was going on?

  “Is there someone else?” I asked, my voice breaking.

  “No. No. Oh, God, no Emma. Let me just take this in the other room.” I heard him open a door, then close it again before he returned. “It’s Jytte. She’s freaking out about us. She says she’ll move into her own place if I keep seeing you. I don’t know what to do. I’m just trying to figure everything out, Emma. That’s all. I need a little time.”

  “Time for what? She’s seventeen, Morten. Is she supposed to control everything in your life forever? So what if she threatens to move away from home? She’ll never do it, Morten. She’s in school. She doesn’t have that kind of money.”

  “I know. I’m just afraid she might do something stupid and get herself in trouble, okay?”

  Part of me understood, but another wanted him to tell her she was acting like a baby and that she needed to grow up. But the fact was, she wasn’t my daughter, and I had no say in this. If he needed time to deal with her, then I would give him just that.

  “You know what? Take all the time you need,” I said, feeling all of a sudden convinced there was only one right solution to this. There was only one way I could deal with this without losing myself in the process.