Seven, eight ... gonna stay up late (Rebekka Franck #4)

by Willow Rose

  "But what?" he asked.

  "I think I just realized something," I said and sat upright.

  "What?"

  "The girl. The first girl, the friend who disappeared." I found the poster in the pocket and unfolded it. I showed him the picture. "Why haven't I thought about this before?"

  "Thought about what?" Sune said confused. "Please fill me in."

  "Amalie. Her name is Amalie. Camilla told me she couldn't go to the police because the media would be all over the story in a matter of seconds."

  "You know who she is?"

  "Yes. Look at the picture. Imagine her five or six years younger. That's how many years it’s been since the public last saw her face. After that her parents sent her to attend a school in Switzerland. I'm quite puzzled to know how she is in a place like this?"

  "Could you please just tell me who she is?"

  I looked at Sune. "She’s the princess," I said. "Princess Amalie of Merchenburg. She is the daughter of His Royal Highness Prince Christopher, the younger brother to our queen who married the German countess Alexis of Merchenburg who later was given the title of princess from the queen. I don't know the entire story or the right titles, but I believe Amalie is an heir to the throne in case all the queen's children and her own father are killed or choose to abdicate. That's why Camilla couldn't tell me Amalie's last name. Simply because she doesn't have any! Royalties don't have a last name."

  Sune looked like he had seen a ghost. "Wow," he said. "That's some story."

  "You got that right," I said and rubbed my head. Thoughts were flickering in my mind. I couldn't keep them still. I realized I had no idea what to do next.

  Chapter 21

  Allan couldn't sleep. He was too excited. In fact he had been so excited when he came home that he had thrown himself at the sleeping Sebastian and fucked him senseless without him even waking up. All in all it had been a perfect night. But still he couldn't sleep. The thrill of knowing what waited him in the cellar of his house kept him wide awake. So after trying to fall asleep for two hours, he decided to get up instead.

  He threw on a silk bathrobe then walked downstairs. He found his iPad and sat with it in his lap.

  Got another rat in the box, he wrote. Then he waited, hoping that there was someone else awake at this hour. No more than a minute later Michael Cogliantry answered:

  Oh how I envy you. Tell me about her.

  Allan smiled to himself. This was exactly what he was looking for. To be able to brag. She is fine. You have no idea. Not as exclusive as the first, though, but perfect for my purpose.

  What is your purpose? What are you going to do to them? Cogliantry asked.

  Allan chuckled. He knew how hard it could be to have to stay away, to keep your path clean in order to not get caught. He had done it once a couple of years ago after killing a girl too close to the boarding school and the police came to investigate all the students. He, of course had a perfect alibi and knew he was the one they suspected the least with his charming and endearing person, but he knew he had to lay low for at least a year in order to be safe. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do. His next victim had been a Polish prostitute he picked up in the street outside a small Polish town. Driven by his cravings for the kill that he couldn't withstand any longer he had taken the car in the middle of the night, left the boarding school and driven all the way into Poland, where he had picked up the first girl he met. She was ugly as hell and he turned her head away while fucking her, then he beat her and in the end strangled her and left her in a ditch somewhere. It was the most boring kill he had made, but it had been necessary. He needed his fix in order to stay sane. That was just the way it was.

  I'm not telling you yet. But I will post pictures later, once it all begins, Allan wrote. He found a cigarette in a drawer and lit it. He didn't usually smoke, but every now and then when the urge got too overwhelming, when he felt himself agitated and wanted to kill, he would sometimes manage to calm himself down with a cigarette. He needed to stay calm now. It was tickling in his fingers, he wanted to go down there and torture those two girls, just look into their eyes while he killed them. But no. That was not the way. That was not the plan. He needed to do this right and not destroy it by giving in to his desires and cravings just yet. This was supposed to be perfect. A true masterpiece.

  Ah, come on. Throw me a bone here. I'm starving. Can't you reveal just a little bit. Just something?

  Allan laughed out loud at the desperation in Cogliantry's words. He would need to kill soon or he would definitely lose it. Allan recognized the signs. He remembered how he used to walk the corridors of the dormitory at night, fantasizing about his next kill, planning it, imagining it down to the smallest detail. And Princess Amalie often played a leading role in his fantasies. No, he had to restrain himself from acting too fast. This was a process and it was easily destroyed by moving too fast.

  Come on, Cogliantry wrote again. Maybe just some details about the girls. Do they smell good? Is their skin soft like silk against your lips? Have you tasted them yet? Licked them? Oh my god, I'm getting a boner on. You're torturing me here. Give me something.

  Allan laughed again. He listened to the muffled voices of his girls in the cellar. Let them talk a little, he said. Maybe they would even be able to encourage each other a little, give each other new hope. Oh he wished they would. That would make it even more gruesome when he did as he had planned. A victim with no hope was boring. One with hope would fight for her life. She would be feisty and resist. Just the way he liked it best.

  He killed the cigarette in a half empty wineglass from earlier. He exhaled and let the smoke out. So Cogliantry wanted him to give him something, huh? Well he could give the man a little something to think about, if he craved it that much. Let him get off so he could sleep peacefully tonight.

  Allan stretched his fingers, then he wrote:

  I'm preparing a royal meal.

  Chapter 22

  We tried to go to the police. I showed them the poster and told them I believed it was Princess Amalie of Merchenburg and that she had been kidnapped by some man and that her friend had been taken too. As the words left my lips I knew how insane they sounded. The police officer - one of two on duty in the middle of the night looked at me like he thought I was drunk, which he probably did. How else would I come up with such a story?

  He smiled friendly and looked at the poster, then at me. "Well, I don't really know what to say to all that," he said. "I mean has someone filed a missing person's report? You say the girls are both fourteen, have their parents been informed? Are they searching for them?"

  I sighed annoyed, knowing he would never take us seriously. I could tell by the tone of his voice. "No, they are not. Because their parents don't know that they have gone missing yet. The girls were at the festival when they were taken."

  The officer tilted his head and smiled. "Princess Amalie of Merchenburg at Roskilde Festival? Well that's news to me. Don't you think we would have heard about it somehow if she were to attend? Don't you think at least the paparazzi would be lurking everywhere? Don't you think the papers would be writing about it? I really think they would."

  "You're not going to take this seriously, are you?" I asked.

  The officer shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."

  "Let's go," Sune said. "We're not getting anywhere here."

  I left my card with him and then we left the police station. Sune drove the car downtown. We decided to spend the night at a hotel. I needed to get away from the festival in order to think. Jens-Ole kept calling me for the article and I promised to finish it and send it before I went to bed. He told me he left room for it and could manage to put it in anyway, but without reading it first, so just don't make any mistakes.

  "What was that you told me about some guy being beaten?" Sune asked as he drove across town. We passed the old cathedral and I looked at the clock in the car. It was two a.m. I didn't feel like sleeping, I was tired, exhausted, but knew I wouldn't
be able to close an eye. I stared out the window into the bright summer night.

  "I don't know who he was. I found him when I was running out of the tent while looking for Camilla. He was lying behind the tent, badly bruised. I helped him get to the hospital."

  "Hmm," Sune said and turned the car around a corner.

  "What?"

  "I don't know. It's just ... well don't you think it’s a little too coincidental?" he said and drove into the parking lot in front of Hotel Scandic. He stopped the engine. I looked at him.

  "You think it might be the same guy? Why would he beat someone up right before he went after Camilla? Isn't that a little too risky?"

  Sune shrugged and pulled out the key of the ignition. "It might be. But you have to admit it is a little strange, right?"

  I opened the door and got out of the car. Sune went in the back and took out our backpacks. I stared at the hotel in front of me. I would rather go back home, I thought. Back to Karrebaeksminde, to Dad and ... well Julie was still in Aarhus, so she wouldn't be there. Oh my god how I missed her at that instant. I knew she was fine with Peter. I had spoken with her earlier the same day and she had been thrilled. Peter was spoiling her by taking her to the Tivoli, shopping and eating at nice restaurants. With Peter money had never been an object. I was happy that she was enjoying herself, but slightly worried that she would get too used to living a life where money wasn't a problem, and she got everything she wanted. I couldn't give her that. But Peter could. He came from a rich family that went way back.

  Sune carried our backpacks into the lobby and we received the key. A few minutes later we both threw our heavy bodies on the soft bed. Sune leaned over and kissed me gently. I wasn't quite in the mood for anything, so I pulled away after our lips had departed.

  "I need to write this article, remember?" I whispered, then leaned over and kissed his forehead.

  He looked disappointed while I opened the laptop and found the article. I wrote a sentence, then deleted it again. Then I wrote another one that I immediately deleted.

  I sighed and looked at Sune. He had undressed and was under the covers. His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. I could tell by the way he breathed.

  "Are you awake?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "I have an idea."

  "Mmm."

  "It might get us in trouble."

  "Mmm."

  "Should I do it?"

  "Mmm."

  "You're right," I said and opened a blank page. "It never stopped me before."

  Chapter 23

  "How long do you think he intends to keep us down here?" Camilla asked. Amalie had been crying now for a long time, and she had waited for her to be able to talk. Camilla wasn't going to give up that easy. She was ready to fight for her life. And for Amalie's.

  "I don't know," Amalie said.

  "I'll get us out of here," Camilla said.

  "How? Did you tell my dad what happened?" Amalie asked.

  Camilla sighed. "No," she said quietly realizing that it would after all have been the smartest thing to do.

  "Why?" Amalie cried. "Why didn't you call home and tell anyone I was missing?"

  Camilla exhaled deeply. "I was afraid you'd be angry at me if your dad had found out that you had lied to him. I didn't know if you were just drunk somewhere or doing drugs with some guy. Maybe you intended to just show up later. I was scared, okay?"

  Amalie sighed deeply. "Well that was stupid. If you'd called home and talked to someone there they would have told my father and he would have found me by now. And you would never be here. At least you could have helped me when you were still on the outside. In here you're no help."

  "I know. I'm sorry," Camilla whispered.

  They both went quiet. Camilla wondered where they were. She hit the plastic once again trying to break it, but it didn't even move.

  "Don't bother," Amalie said. "You're in a box, it's impossible to get out of it. Believe me I’ve tried. I have kicked, banged and screamed. No one will hear you, except the creepy guy who brought you here. I’ve seen him come down here once to get a bottle of wine. That's all I have seen. But I recognized him from the night he knocked me down with his flashlight. I have no idea what he wants from me ... or us. I'm hoping he wants money. My father will give him what he wants, then destroy him after we have been released."

  Camilla inhaled sharply. "I hope you're right. I just don't get what he wants from me? Why has he taken me as well? And what's with these boxes?" she said and tried to push the plastic open with all her strength, but it was no use.

  "I don't know the answer to any of that. I’ve been here in complete darkness for what feels like days. Only once has he turned on the light long enough for me to see the box. It's made from some sort of see through plastic. Impossible to break. Air comes in from a tube in the corner. I don't know how long this tube is, but at least it gives us air. I tried to stick my hand in it and feel it, but can't get it far enough in it. Maybe you could try. You're skinnier. Your hand is smaller."

  Camilla felt around the box and found a small round hole in the corner. She stuck her hand inside of it as far as she could, but never reached the end.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't reach the end of it."

  "I thought so," Amalie said.

  Camilla took in a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. It suddenly felt like the box was getting tighter, like it was closing in on her body. She started to sweat and kept moving around as much as she could to not feel trapped.

  "It gets kind of claustrophobic after a while," Amalie said. "Just try your best to not panic. Move a little now and then to prevent it from hurting. It helps me to think about something nice. Like the open ocean, or my favorite horse Pompadour. It makes it less unbearable. Find something that makes you smile then keep thinking about it. Make it your happy place while we wait."

  Camilla closed her eyes and tried to find something that would make her happy. She could only think about one thing. The salty kiss from Amalie's lips. Then she went even further and thought about her naked body against hers. The scent she had secretly smelled on her skin so often, the feeling of her soft breasts against hers. She could never tell her friend that, but she knew it was enough to keep her sane through whatever was in store for her.

  "What do you think he wants to do with us?" Camilla asked once the fantasy had managed to calm her down once again and given her new hope.

  "I don't know. But I have a feeling we're about to find out soon."

  Chapter 24

  As expected I didn't sleep at all that night. I kept wondering about Camilla and why the kidnapper came back for her. He had taken Amalie, the royal princess and had to have a reason for picking her. It couldn't just be a coincidence, could it? It had to be deliberate. But why Camilla? Because she had seen him? But how could she? Amalie had left Camilla to go to the restrooms when she disappeared. If Camilla had seen the guy, she would definitely have told me. She would have described him to me and she would have known that something bad happened to Amalie. She wouldn't have expected her to show up at the festival or to maybe have gone with someone. Camilla would have gone to their parents and the police if she had known that something bad had happened to Amalie. So that wasn't it. Maybe it was just to keep her quiet. She was after all the only one who knew Amalie had been at the festival. The rest, especially her parents thought she was somewhere else, Camilla had told me. So maybe it was part of removing his tracks. With Camilla also gone they wouldn't know anything about Amalie's whereabouts on the day she disappeared. There was no one to tell where to look. In that way it would take a long time for the police to track him down. By then he would be gone and maybe Princess Amalie would be too.

  So what did he want this kidnapper? Was he keeping Amalie alive somewhere? Was he going to blackmail the royal family? Was he demanding some ransom? Maybe they already knew about this. Maybe the kidnapper had already contacted the royal family and given his demands? They would most certainly
keep that a secret from the public. No doubt about that. Maybe they were even taking care of it as I was lying there in my bed debating with myself? The thought made me feel calmer and I felt my eyelids slowly become heavier.

  I might only have slept for ten minutes or so, when the tunes of One Direction woke me up with a start. I jumped out of the bed and ran towards the phone. I had put it in the charger overnight. The display said Amalie.

  With pounding heart and sweaty hands I answered it. "Hello?" I said.

  "Well hello there, Rebekka Franck," the voice from earlier said.

  Every cell in my entire body froze to ice. I had to calm my breathing to not sound too agitated. "Who is this?" I asked.

  "You know who this is," the voice hissed. "Don't patronize me."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," I said afraid that he would hang up. "Why are you calling? What do you want from me?"

  The voice chuckled. Then he made a smacking sound with his lips. "I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered.

  "How do you know me? How do you know my name?"

  "Again with the condescending tone. It's annoying, my dear."

  I sighed annoyed. He was beginning to really piss me off. "Where are the girls?"

  "Why do you care?" he said hissing.

  "I care about them. I care that nothing happens to them," I said. Sune was beginning to wake up. He groaned and turned. Then he opened his eyes. I signaled that he should be quiet.

  "Well isn't that nice," the voice said. "Maybe I will let you see them again. Maybe you'd like to pay them a visit."

  "I would like to see them," I said feeling my heart drop. He hadn't made some deal with the family and I got the feeling that he wasn't about to either. That wasn't his plan. Money wasn't his goal. It was something else. Something a hell of a lot more scary.

  The voice laughed hoarsely. "Be careful what you wish for," he said.

  "Are the girls okay? Are they alright?" I asked. But it was too late. He had hung up. Angrily I pushed the screen and called him back. No one answered. I threw the phone on the bed. Sune looked at me, then jumped out of the bed.