Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) Page 9

  I searched the Internet for missing children and Fanoe and soon found two articles dated back to 2005—one in the local paper and one in a paper from the mainland—about the loss of Helle's daughter

  Vadehavet demands another child and Fanoe loses yet another child to the sea. According to the articles it had been several years since the ocean last took a child, not since the late nineties, it stated. The coast guard was quoted saying that it was very important for parents to watch their children constantly to avoid these kinds of accidents from happening. Only a fool doesn't fear the ocean, the coast guard officer was quoted saying.

  Then there was a discussion whether or not the Danish beaches should have lifeguards, something they still hadn't established for some reason and something they still discussed from time to time but never agreed upon. It always came down to the money. Who was going to pay for it? The cities? The counties? The government? Denmark was nothing but beaches all over and it was going to be an expensive affair to provide all of them with lifeguards. No one wanted to take the responsibility upon themselves. I had never understood that. They could tell us not to smoke and how to eat right by putting extra taxes on cigarettes and fat in the food and even forbid people to smoke anywhere, but put up a few lifeguards to prevent people from drowning (which someone did every year, especially German tourists who didn't know the ocean) they wouldn't do.

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair wondering if there could be any connection between the disappearance of the little Countess and the brutal killing of a teenager in a kiosk last night. I chuckled and shook my head. How on earth should that even be possible? No, the bowtie killer was long gone, Officer Morten was probably right about that. But the girl was still missing and there was something not adding up about all these children supposedly drowning.

  The phone rang and I picked it up. It was Officer Morten.

  "I kept thinking about what you asked me this morning," he said. "I have enough to do today as it is, but it kept haunting me so I looked into it."

  I sat up straight in my chair sensing something interesting was coming now. "Yes. And what did you find?"

  "Well, you were right. We don't have records leading further back, but in 1997-1998 four children went missing and were later declared dead by drowning. And then there was the one in 2005. All of them were girls. And get this. All of them were six years old when they went missing. And all of them had long blonde hair and blue eyes. I have the pictures here from their files and they look very much alike."

  I almost dropped my jaw. "That can't be a coincidence," I said.

  "Something tells me you're right."

  "I mean a lot of Danish children have blonde hair and blue eyes, but to have all five kids looking like that? And then have the same age and gender? It's a little too obvious if you ask me." I wrote everything down while talking to the Officer. I had butterflies in my stomach. We were definitely on to something here. Something big.

  "Someone has been stealing our children," he said. "And probably killing them, too. The worst part is they have gotten away with it so far since no one saw the connection."

  "The question is, does that someone also have Josephine?" I asked.

  Officer Morten exhaled into the phone. "That's what we need to find out now. And we need to do it fast."

  Chapter 30

  April 2013

  "You made the front cover again," Hanne said and threw a newspaper on the table next to the croissants that Patrick was eating. They were in his room and he was wearing nothing but a bathrobe and sunglasses.

  Patrick looked above his sunglasses and scanned the front page with a grin. It showed a huge picture of him standing outside on the balcony the night before balancing the railing on the three-story building with his arms stretched in the air, not holding on to anything.

  "Well, the producers are very pleased that you're creating all this publicity. But please don't be foolish, alright? Attention is good, but not if it means we lose you."

  Patrick gulped down his coffee and stopped listening to what she said. Instead, another article on the front page had caught his interest. It was just a small one and there was no picture, but the headline drew him in.

  Kiosk girl killed by bowtie killer.

  Patrick smiled widely and read the article discreetly while Hanne was still babbling on about ratings and shares and the importance of the coming days. He felt a spark of thrill in his body as he read about the girl who had allegedly been stabbed to death and had a bowtie sewn into one breast, the signature mark of the bowtie killer. The police were quoted saying that if anyone had seen anything around the time of the girl's death they would be most grateful to know, even the smallest thing might be of importance, the Officer said. Patrick laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair thinking he had once again done it without leaving a trace behind.

  They' re never gonna catch me. I'm always ahead. Stupid morons. I'm just too freaking smart.

  Hanne stopped talking and looked at him.

  "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" she said curtly.

  Patrick looked at her behind his sunglasses and could hardly see her in the darkness. Then he grinned while imagining snapping her throat again. It always put him in a better mood thinking how easily he could kill her, how little an effort it would take on his part.

  Women are so feeble, so weak and faint. Useless, really. Can't even put up a fight. So easy to hurt. How I loathe them. All of them. With their pretty faces and swaying hips, always trying to make me like them, to flirt with me. As if I cared. If only they knew what really turned me on.

  Hanne snapped her fingers in front of Patrick's face. "Hello? Are you there?" she asked.

  Patrick growled. Her attitude towards him was starting to get really annoying. Didn't she know that without him she had no job? She was nothing without him, this show was nothing.

  Patrick grinned and looked up at her. "Sure," he said. "I'm always here, aren't I? It's not like there would be anywhere else I could go."

  "Good," Hanne said. "It's an important day tomorrow and we need to get things up and running smoothly. Today you rest, alright?"

  "You got it," he said and took a huge bite of his croissant. He leaned back and put his feet up on the table.

  "Good," Hanne said and took her notepad. "Oh yes, and the police wants to see you, they're waiting outside. I told them to keep it brief since you need your rest."

  Patrick almost choked in his croissant. Hanne opened the door and two police officers entered the room. Patrick got up from his chair.

  "This is Officer Gammelgaard and Officer Nyberg. They're with the National homicide team in Copenhagen," Hanne said.

  They shook hands. Patrick was still fighting the food stuck in his throat. He couldn't stop coughing.

  "Are you alright there?" the younger one of the two, Officer Gammelgaard asked.

  "I'll be fine," Patrick said still coughing. "Just got a little something down the wrong pipe"

  Hanne patted him on the back and soon Patrick was able to stop coughing. "Sit down gentlemen," he said and showed them to the couches in his suite. He glanced one last time at the story of the girl on the newspaper cover before he turned to face them. Patrick put on his famous smile and looked at them.

  "So what can I do for you gentlemen?"

  Chapter 31

  April 2013

  The floor of the dog cage was hard and after almost two days in it, Josephine's body had started to hurt badly. She tried to move around, but it was so small that there weren't many positions she could use and stretching her legs was out of the question. The bucket, she used as a toilet was beginning to smell and it left her with constant nausea. She hadn't seen the old lady all morning and hoped that she would bring her food today since Josephine was really hungry now. All she had gotten up until now was the water in the bowl that she had to drink like a dog. At some point the lady had to bring her some food, didn't she?

  Josephine whimpered feeling awful, her stom
ach hurting from starvation, her breathing complicated by the strong odor emanating from the bucket. She grabbed the door to the cage once again and tried to shake it, but she knew it was useless. She wasn't strong enough to break the lock or even bend the door. She had tried everything, even hammering her fists into it as hard as she could and she didn't even make a dent in the bars. They barely even rattled at all.

  Finally the door opened and the woman walked in with her dog behind her. She was humming that awful nursery rhyme about a woman and her sick dolly that Ms. Camilla had sometimes sung for Josephine when she was younger. The woman closed the door and locked it as soon as the dog was inside. Django walked over to Josephine and sniffed her through the bars.

  "Phew, you're right, Django," the old lady said and held her nose. "It does stink in here."

  With a stick in her hand, the lady unlocked the cage and opened the door. With her heart in her throat Josephine thought this was it, this was her moment to escape. But as soon as she tried to move, the lady poked her with the stick in the stomach hard and it forced her to fall backwards.

  "Django," the woman yelled. "Make sure it stays in there."

  Django became alert. He walked closer to the opening, then growled at Josephine, snapping his teeth at her. Josephine was gasping for air while the lady leaned in, grabbed the bucket and removed it. Barely had Josephine caught her breath from the blow before the old woman was out again and had closed the door. Django was still standing outside, staring at her, like he was making sure she didn't move. Josephine cried and whimpered.

  "Please give me something to eat. I'm so hungry. Please," she begged while the woman disappeared with the bucket in her hand. Django was still watching her. The woman returned a little while after with the bucket in one hand and a hose in the other.

  "Let's get rid of that awful stench, shall we, Django, huh?"

  Then she hosed Josephine down with a river of water that made Josephine believe she was going to drown. She gasped for air and swallowed loads of water. She was still coughing when the hose was turned off. Then the lady opened the cage again and threw in the bucket.

  "There. That should keep you clean for a little while," she said and locked the door again. Josephine watched as the lady rolled the hose back, then left and returned with a towel and something else in her hand. She knelt in front of Josephine and seemed to be examining her. She reached in and grabbed her arm and pulled it out through the bars to better look at it. Josephine gasped and started to cry again. "Please don't hurt me," she said.

  The woman didn't answer. She studied her skin closely and turned her arm in the light. "Yes, Django. I do believe you're right. The baby doll's skin has become looser." The lady now threw in the towel and the other thing she had in her hand.

  "Dry yourself up and then apply this lotion to your skin," she said to Josephine.

  She grabbed her chin and looked her in the eyes. Then she smiled. "So soft the skin is on my darling baby doll," she said and stroked her cheek. "Yes, we need the skin to stay that way, to stay soft and smooth, don't we, Django? Yes we do."

  The woman got up and walked away, then returned with the box of fake eyes. While Josephine applied the lotion to her skin, the woman found a pair of eyes and held them up. Then she signaled Josephine to come closer to the bars. Thinking that maybe if she was nice to the woman she would give her something to eat, Josephine obeyed. She put her head against the bars and let the lady study her eyes closely while holding a pair of fake eyes up next to her face.

  Then she shook her head. "No, you're right, Django. Not quite the right color. Let's see if I have another one that will fit better. How about this one?" she said and found a new pair that she held up.

  "Yes, those are the ones," she said with a shrill voice. "They will be perfect for my new baby doll."

  Chapter 32

  April 2013

  Maya was still sleeping when there was a knock at the front door. I ran downstairs to see who it was. It was Jack and he was smiling.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "The shop! I completely forgot," I said. "We were going to visit Helle's shop today."

  Jack looked disappointed.

  "Just give me one minute and I'll be there," I said and stormed inside. I threw on a new blouse and decided that jeans would be fine. It was a little windy outside and very cloudy so I took my jacket and an umbrella as well, just in case. I wrote a note for Maya and put it on the kitchen table, then hurried outside to meet Jack.

  He smiled when he saw me. "Do you want to walk down there?"

  "Sure," I said and closed my jacket when the cold wind hit my chest.

  It took fifteen minutes to walk into town. It was nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air for a change. Plus, I enjoyed Jack's company. He was the outdoorsy type, you could tell just by looking at him. He liked it when the tip of the nose turned red and the wind bit the cheeks. And he was funny, too. Made me laugh out loud several times on our way there. He always made me feel so comfortable in his presence. It was a quality I had grown to like in a man more than anything. Especially since my failed marriage to Michael, Victor and Maya's father. Ever since he left me, I had come to realize that he wasn't good for me. Being with him had somehow dragged me down, made me insecure about myself. Michael was a fault finder, especially with people and in particular with me. He never thought I looked good, or at least he never told me. Instead he would always pick some other woman at the party or in the restaurant and ask me why I didn't wear my hair like that or why I didn't exercise more to look like her. It wasn't all the time, but just small hints here and there, enough to make me constantly feel lousy about myself when I was with him. While married to him I thought that it was okay, that it was just the way it was, that if I just changed then he would be happy again, but after he left me I realized that it wouldn't have mattered what I had done or not done. It would have never been enough for him.

  "A penny for your thoughts?" Jack said.

  "Sorry?"

  "You went quiet all of a sudden. I was just wondering what was on your mind."

  "Ah. Well, lots of things, to be honest with you. Just now I was actually thinking about my ex-husband."

  Jack nodded. "Ah, I see. Dddo you miss him?"

  I shrugged. "Not really, I guess. I miss him being a father for my children. I miss having a father figure in their lives, but me? I think I'm better off without him. Besides, he is married to someone else now."

  "But if he wasn't, would you miss him?" Jack asked.

  I looked at his handsome face. He had the gentlest eyes I had ever seen. "I don't know," I said. "I think he has disappointed me so much that it is hard to still care. But I do miss being a family. I think I will always miss that."

  Jack went quiet.

  "What about you?" I asked.

  "What about me?"

  "Do you have someone you miss in your life?"

  "Nah. I have given up my life to take care of my sister."

  I felt a pinch in my heart. That was so sad. "But don't you want a family? A wife? Children?"

  Jack nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "Sure. I've always wanted that. And I have had my share of female friendships."

  "But never anything serious?" I asked.

  He looked at me. "There was one. We went out for almost a year." Jack sighed and looked away. I thought about grabbing his hand, but restrained myself. We walked up the cobbled street in the middle of the town. Small shops lined the road up ahead. One of them was Helle's.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "Well, she wanted to move on with the relationship. She wanted to move in together. I told her she could come live at our house and so she did. But she soon grew tired of it. She wanted me to put my sister in a home. She was waking her up at night with her moaning and crying in pain. She was annoyed with me for constantly taking care of my sister instead of her. Stuff like that. Finally she told me it was her or my sister. I told her I had made a promise to myself to take care of my sister
and I wasn't going to break that promise."

  "So she left?"

  "So she left, yes. Ever since then I've been very careful and I never bring anyone to my house anymore. It is always the same. They want me to put my sister in a home so we can build a life together. I tell them I can't and then they're gone. So eventually I have kind of just accepted the fact that maybe I won't get that big family with all the children I dreamt of. Well I can always borrow one of Sophia's, right? I mean she has plenty."

  I laughed but not joyfully. Jack's story made me so sad.

  "I think it is here," he said and looked up at a sign above a small shop.

  It said Dolls and Trinkets.

  Chapter 33

  April 2013

  "Hi guys!"

  Helle smiled and came out from the back as we entered the store. It was a small and dark room swamped with trinkets and souvenirs on all the shelves and in aisles in the middle.

  "Wow," I said as I looked around the inviting shop.

  "Yes," Helle said with a smile. "Welcome to my small shop. This is my pride and joy."

  My eyes fell on the back row and the maybe fifty dolls sitting on the shelves staring at me. I felt a chill on my spine. Dolls as lifelike as these had always creeped me out.

  "Come and look at them closer," Helle said and walked towards them. She picked one and pulled it down. It was the size of a child of maybe six years and looked completely like it was alive. The eyes especially looked so real.

  "Wow," I said again and studied it closer. "I can't believe how real it looks. There is even a little sparkle in her eyes. And the hair…" I reached over and touched it, but Helle pulled it away. "Sorry," she said and pointed at a sign behind her that said Please don't touch the dolls. "No touching, please. I don't want them to be greasy and dirty from people's fingers."