Dandelion Girl

by Isa Hansen

  “Because,” Oskar said quietly, “Celia received a disturbing video and we’re not in agreement what to do about it.”

  “What kind of disturbing video?” Zari asked, stepping forward from behind Ebba.

  Celia shoved the phone toward the edge of the table. “Here you go: have at it.”

  She left the kitchen.

  Went back to the veranda. Sat down on the step out to the yard. The chill felt good. When everything was so hot and stifling, all she wanted was to cool off.

  She stared out into the frozen yard, the wispy trees swaying lightly with the breeze. She sat like that for a minute or two. The cold was doing its job. Her anger was dissipating.

  The light shifted. It was Oskar behind her. She had learned how his steps sounded, how he moved.

  He sat down next to her, quiet.

  After a few moments, he said: “I didn’t feel like watching that again.”

  “No,” she said, “I didn’t either.”

  Silence.

  He touched his knee against hers. “Are you angry with me?”

  She looked at him. His face was motionless, still, somber and sad.

  She redirected her gaze back into the yard.

  “No. You were right. I wasn’t acting sensibly.”

  They just sat there, staring into the frozen abyss, surrounded by silence.

  Steps some time later brought them out of their reverie. They both turned toward Ebba and Zari who stood behind them.

  Ebba held the phone in her hand. “We had to watch it a few times to understand … nice little show here.”

  Zari had a look of shock on her face.

  “Isn’t it, though?” Celia said bitterly.

  “Did you check under your bed?” Ebba asked. “To see if he left you a souvenir?”

  It took a few seconds for Celia to realize what she meant. “Eww. Ebbs, that’s gross.”

  “Yes,” Ebba said, very matter-of-fact. “Yes, it is. I still think you should check. You need to document everything.”

  With a sigh, Celia heaved herself up from the step. “All right, let’s go have a look.”

  The four of them circled around the bed. Celia crouched down on her hands and knees, head angled parallel to the floor. Nothing disturbing to see. “Nope,” she said. “Nothing.”

  Celia was just about to get back up, but then…

  Hold on.

  She squatted down again, reaching, and pulled it out.

  A stone. Flat and rectangular, about two inches long with a hole at the top. It resembled a keychain. The stone was carved with the image of a shield, lined by some type of swirly leaf-twig pattern. Below the twigs was a bird and over the shield, a knight’s helmet.

  She jumped to her feet and held it out to show the others. “This isn’t mine. I’ve never seen it before.”

  Zari said, “Looks like an old symbol of some kind.”

  Ebba and Oskar moved closer.

  “Ohh,” Ebba said, in a low jeer. “I think I know who that belongs to.”

  “Who?” Celia and Zari asked in unison.

  Oskar lifted an eyebrow at Ebba: “Alex?”

  “Yup,” Ebba said. “He comes from a crusty old baronial family.”

  “He does, doesn’t he?” Celia said.

  “This does look like his family crest, doesn’t it?” Ebba said to Oskar.

  Oskar tilted his head. “I think so.”

  Ebba did a quick phone search to see if she could find the Rosensköld symbol. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, after a few minutes, giving up on the search. “I recognize it. I know it’s his. I’m sure of it.”

  “So it is Alex,” Celia said slowly. “It’s been him all along.”

  She wrapped her hand around the stone, feeling its texture against her fingers.

  Zari spoke up. “I have a theory I want to throw at you.”

  “Hit me,” Celia said.

  “You’ve talked to Alex about Liv, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure. In the beginning I did.”

  “So…” Zari said. “What if Liv’s death really was an accident. Maybe she was scared of someone, for whatever reason, and that’s why her friends were alarmed and concerned about her death … maybe Petter was threatening her about the fire, or something.”

  “Go on.”

  “And what if that was all it really was. And everything else, well, what if it’s all just noise that Alex created?”

  Celia took that in, nodding. She backed up, leaning against the wall.

  Could it be possible? There was too much muck in her mind to think straight.

  Zari continued, “Maybe that’s why you keep going round and round in circles and keep coming back to—”

  “Alexander,” Ebba finished.

  Oskar focused on Celia. “Out of everything that’s happened to you, is there anything that disproves Zari’s theory?”

  “I’m not sure.” Celia banged her head against the wall. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Not true,” Ebba declared. “You know everything. You know that Alex planted spyware on your phone. You know he was behind the mugging, and now you know that Alex is Nattvakten. As for the dress; he could’ve had one made. He has the resources.”

  Ebba glared triumphantly.

  Celia pressed her hand harder against the symbol. Ebba and Zari were right. It all came back to Alex.

  “I still don’t understand, why though?” Celia shook her head. “Why would he do all of this?”

  “Because he’s a deranged narcissist,” Ebba said.

  “And maybe,” Zari added, “maybe he fell in love with you. But then he saw you and…” Zari nodded toward Oskar.

  Celia took a deep breath.

  Could it truly be that Liv really did die in an accident and all the rest was noise, created by Alex?

  She realized how easily her thoughts and fears had run amok. The way she’d worried that her grandfather was involved in Liv’s death, and then how she’d thought the same about Erik. That was not her finest moment, and she was glad she’d only confided in Oskar and no one else about that. But the point was—that’s where her brain went. What if all the other places her brain went were equally insane? What if she’d been so busy chasing shadows that she didn’t stop and see that that’s all it was. Shadows.

  “So now what?” Ebba said, bouncing restlessly.

  “I’m going to get him,” Celia said. The anger that had run off her just minutes ago was coming back, taking a new shape, finding a new target: the right target this time. “I’m pegging this on Alex once and for all. No more messing around. And I know how I’m going to do it.”

  She lifted her hand indicating they follow her into the kitchen where she fetched the invitation to the New Year’s Eve party at Rosenlunden. She held it up for them to see.

  “I’ll go to his place,” she said. “Gather evidence. Get pictures of the symbol. I’m sure they have them somewhere. Maybe I can get to the device that he used to send messages. Maybe there’s other evidence. I’ll scrounge together everything I can get my hands on, and then we pin it on him.” She dedicated a nod to Oskar. “Take it to the police, just like you’ve wanted all along.”

  Zari asked, “And if you don’t find anything?”

  “I’m still filing a report,” Celia said with finality.

  “Good,” Ebba said. “Should we come with you?”

  “My invitation doesn’t include guests.”

  “You’ll be OK to go alone?” Zari wondered.

  “Definitely.” Celia nodded with conviction. “Alexander Rosensköld doesn’t scare me.”

  CHAPTER 43

  New Years Eve arrived with silent fanfare and an onset of new snow.

  In the evening, Ebba, Oskar, and Zari were all going to a New Year’s Eve party at the house of an old friend of Ebba’s and Oskar’s from grade school.

  Meanwhile, Celia would attend the Rosensköld party to gather any proof she could find to pin down Alex. She was resolute in keeping
her promise to her friends that no matter what she found or didn’t find that evening, she’d file a report against Alex to finally put the stalking to an end.

  She also promised to stay in touch throughout the evening. She and Ebba had decided to switch phones. It wouldn’t hurt to throw Alex off her track.

  Celia spent the hours leading up to the party getting dressed and preparing herself. She chose clothes that would be easy to move in—soft flats instead of heels; a flowing dress instead of a fitted one. She made sure Ebba’s phone was completely charged.

  She’d called to RSVP to the party the day before. It had been past the RSVP date on her invitation, but she thought it might not matter. Alexander’s father answered the phone and sounded more charming than she remembered him from when they met a few months prior. Thomas said they would be delighted to have her company that night.

  At 6:15 Celia was driving Anette’s car to Rosenlunden herrgård. She followed the country road into the farmlands, and when the birch woods stacked up before her, she turned into the alleyway.

  The trees lining the alley to the Rosensköld estate were lit up with white lights, as were the bushes farther up by the house. In the distance the manor glistened like a jewel with festive candles in the windows. Glittery garlands and lights decked the balcony over the front door. It was a very different scene from the depraved and cold darkness of the last time Celia visited, but even with its holiday grandeur, the place still gave her a hollow feeling in her chest.

  Cars were parked in front and to the sides of the mansion. A scatter of people were heading toward the entrance when Celia drove past. Another group of folks congregated by the main door. She drove to the back where she parked at the end of a line of cars, ending halfway on the frozen lawn.

  Beeping the car behind her, she carried on toward the entrance.

  She passed the people who were grouped by the front door. A man was smoking and they were all drinking; glasses of sparkling wine dazzled against the frost and the lights.

  The door swung open just as she stepped up the stone stairs. Inside, the party was in full swing, with people meeting and greeting, clutching their flutes and making chipper small talk.

  The entryway opened up to a hall and straight ahead double doors were wide open, leading into a grand dining room. Off to the left there was a coat room, and directly to the right was a sitting room where guests mingled. The dining room had been closed last time Celia was there. The openness made the place seem all the more majestic and stately.

  From the coat room, a jovial man in a suit jacket spoke to Celia: “Can I take your coat, young lady?”

  She handed off her coat and scarf to him but kept her handbag.

  The guests were mostly older, but there were some younger people drifting between rooms.

  Moving into the sitting room, Celia thought she saw Alex. She soon realized he was quite a bit older and must be Alex’s brother.

  The brother turned in Celia’s direction; he gave her a little smirk with his brows angled upward. He had somewhat lighter hair and was broader than Alex, but they both shared their father’s angular features. He moved toward her with a lordly swagger.

  “Well, hello there,” the older version of Alex said. “Welcome.”

  After hearing her response, he switched over to English: “What’s that accent you have? Super cute.”

  Celia was telling him she was an exchange student from Seattle when Alex entered the room.

  Spotting her, Alex did a double take. He halted in his tracks, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her. He barged over to them, his expression turning increasingly hostile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, that’s no way to greet our guest,” the brother said and mock punched Alex in the arm. “Show some manners.”

  “I thought you were the one to invite me,” Celia said with a nod toward Alex. Showing up at a different spot than her phone seemed to have thrown him off. She added innocently, “I RSVP’d a little late, but your father was kind enough to accept me.”

  “Hey, Alex, lil’ bro, go get us some drinks, huh?”

  Alex left them in a perturbed huff.

  “Don’t let him trouble you,” Alex’s brother said. “He’s a little shitface sometimes.” He grasped Celia’s hand. “Filip.”

  “Celia,” she said.

  “Pretty name, pretty girl,” Filip murmured. “This party is going to be a bit stuffy at first, just until everyone has had enough to drink. At the end of the night we’ll all be nice and loosened up. Just in time for the fireworks.” He gave her a flirty head tilt and a self-assured smile. “We’re having a grand display.”

  Celia returned the smile and took a look around.

  The sitting room was decorated with fresh pine arrangements set in tall vases. The deep green branches gave off the smell of Christmas in the woods.

  Staffing for the event had a minimalistic feel with gorgeous lanky blond men and women dressed in black moving in and out of the rooms like shadows.

  She said to Filip, “Excuse me, I need to find the, uh … powder room.”

  Apparently Filip found her delivery amusing. He let out a little laugh before pointing out the direction. “I’ll go find us some drinks,” he said. “I think little bro disappeared.”

  The restroom was next to the dining hall and was all elegant and white-washed with tea candles glinting in little hand-blown glass holders. Celia pulled out Ebba’s phone and sent a quick text to Oskar: Everything’s fine. Haven’t found anything yet but Alex def acting weird.

  Dinner was served at 7:30.

  She followed the other guests into the dining room where long tables were set up in Scandinavian classic design. The décor was stunning; simple yet radiant with tall, tapered candles, starched linens, and winter arrangements in an array of light and muted tones and textures.

  One of Celia’s old classmates in Seattle, Kayleigh, lived with her parents in an eight bed, ten bath monstrosity full of gleaming granite and mismatched wood. The place screamed: Look at us, we have money! By contrast, this room whispered and winked we’ve got money while exquisite champagne slithered down one’s throat.

  Celia’s table partner was an old geezer who reminded her of Albert Einstein due to his white tufts of hair and mustached grin. He was hard of hearing, so every time he spoke to her she had to yell her answers into his ear.

  Throughout the multi-course meal, servers floated in and out of the dining room with plates of local salmon, venison hunted from the area with buttery chanterelle sauce, leafy salads, fruit sorbet, and cake. The dishes were paired with wines that Celia was certain were all expensive and divine.

  Alex sat at the same table as Celia but on the opposite end. He seemed apprehensive throughout the meal. His body language was flexed; he wasn’t eating and he drank very little.

  She drank very little alcohol herself—only took a few sips of her champagne. It was delicious: prickly and creamy. But she needed to keep a clear head.

  After dinner, the guests mingled their way out of the great room as the waitstaff moved in to clear the tables. Shirts were loosened, alcohol flowed, and the air buzzed with flirtations, tipsy conversation, and excited promises of the night and the new year ahead. This was the perfect time for her to leave unnoticed to see what she could find around the mansion. Just as she was about to slip away, Thomas approached her holding two champagne flutes.

  “How are you enjoying our party?” he asked.

  “It’s very nice,” she said.

  “Lovely you could join us. Alex only has good things to say about you.” Thomas angled his chin and gave Celia that trademark Rosensköld smile. “By the way, I should have offered you this before: You are more than welcome to stay the night. That way you can enjoy yourself at the party. Did you drive here?”

  “I did,” Celia said. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not drinking.” She was very much planning on driving herself home after she’d completed her mission.

  “Well, one glass
of bubbles will do no harm,” he said, handing her a glass. “Let’s toast, shall we?”

  At that moment, one of Thomas’s guests who was already acting ‘less stuffy’ wobbled over to them. “There you are,” the man slurred. He leaned so heavily on Thomas that they both nearly toppled over.

  Thomas steadied himself while the man craned toward him. “I have to tell you something…” The man held his finger in the air, preparing to reveal some profound wisdom that only exuberant amounts of alcohol can bring forth. “Listen to this…”

  The distraction was Celia’s out.

  She slipped out into the hall and away from the party.

  ***

  Zari stood up on her toes, searching for Oskar.

  She hadn’t seen him for some time.

  The party they were attending ran throughout the house with people occupying all rooms and spilling out on the street as well as into the backyard.

  Ebba sat in the kitchen next to a guy. Someone Zari didn’t recognize. He and Ebba sat side by side at the kitchen table with a bunch of other people. Her arm was draped over the back of his chair; they leaned in toward each other, laughing and flirting.

  Someone Zari knew from school came up to her and made an attempt at small talk, but she soon excused herself. She found herself restless and unable to relax. She had a feeling Oskar was in a similar state of mind. She wanted to find him.

  She worked her way through the rooms of the house, pushing past partygoers to the beat of electronic pop music. She made her way out to the street where she finally found him. He was standing with a few other people by the end of the driveway. The others were all giggling at something, but he seemed elsewhere in his thoughts.

  “Oskar,” she said, approaching him.

  When Oskar saw her, he waved at her and took a few steps away from the group. She followed him out onto the street, shivering. She hadn’t brought her coat with her.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  “Did you hear from Celia?”

  “No, not more than that text. It’s something else. I need to go back to her house. There’s something that’s stuck in my head.”