by Willow Rose
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 get 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 samp
le, 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 wasn’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.
“But don’t expect me to wait for you. I’m done, Morten. This time, I’m the one who wants out.”
I hung up with my heart pumping in my throat. I was sad, on the verge of devastation, but it had been a long time since something had felt this right.
54
August 2014
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED. Every day, I searched eagerly through the papers to see if there was any news of Jesper Melander being arrested. But, still, there was nothing. It irritated me immensely.
Who knew what atrocities the guy was up to while we were waiting? Was he planning on killing another couple? Had he already done it, but no one had found them yet?
My thoughts drove me crazy. There were days I could hardly think of anything else. I studied the housing market closely, and every day, I went through all my e-mails with my heart pounding, fearing to find that another house had been sold on the island.
Luckily, it hadn’t happened yet.
I looked up everything I could about Jesper Melander and his previous life as Bjarke Lund, and the more I did, the more convinced I became that he had to be the killer. In my opinion, he was mad enough to fit the profile, and maybe more clever than any killer I had encountered. Somehow, he had managed to get out of every kill he had committed. I just hadn’t the faintest idea how.
Sophia was with me on my search. She wanted to nail the guy as bad as I did. I guess being the first to see someone who was killed made you feel like you owed it to them to get revenge for them. That was how I felt, after all. I felt like I had to help the poor people who couldn’t act for themselves anymore, and make sure the bastard got what he deserved.
On a positive note, Maya was getting a lot better. Every day, I saw improvement in her, and every day, I thanked Dr. Sonnichsen for working with her. I couldn’t remember being this grateful to a stranger in my life before. It was such a blessing, and I knew it was one I risked losing any day. I had no idea if the county would take her away again sometime soon. Dr. Sonnichsen kept telling me she wasn’t going anywhere, but I wasn’t convinced. It was very expensive for the county to have someone like Dr. Sonnichsen work with only one child. So, I tried to enjoy her while I could, and make the most of her for the one hour a day she was here.
On the following Monday, I lost my patience and hacked my way into the police database. To my surprise, I found nothing new. It seemed that they had hardly worked on the case at all. The forensics had finished their report on Mikkel Hermansen, the last victim. But there was nothing about the hair that Morten had talked about. Did it take that long to analyze it? Morten had told me Jesper Melander had agreed to let them take a sample from him to compare with, so I was surprised to see that nothing had come of it yet.
Maybe I was just being too impatient. I simply couldn’t understand why they didn’t just arrest the guy.
Sophia laughed at me when she came over for coffee a little later in the morning. She had Mondays off, and was supposed to use them to clean her house, but rarely made it that far, since she was always hanging out at my place. I loved it when she stopped by, and I always made sure to have enough coffee in the pot.
“You can’t just arrest a guy like Jesper Melander,” she said. “He plays with the big boys now. They all attend his classes…that he calls therapy lessons. But they’ve all been there, all the CEOs, the big business people in Denmark. They love him. Even the crown prince attended one of his classes once. It’s true. They all like that stuff. He tells it as it is, you know. Makes them proud to be men. He tells women to get back in the kitchen and let the man be the man and provide for them.”
“I hate him already,” I said.
“He’s just provoking, that’s all. Gives him lots of business to say things like that.”
“Yeah, I know. But it makes me so angry when people say stuff like that.”
“That’s why he does it. He says what the CEOs wish they could say out loud.” Sophia grinned.
I could tell an idea was shaping in her head.
“We should pay him a visit. Just to check him out.”
55
August 2014
IT WAS THE worst idea ever. Still I couldn’t deny the fact that I was curious as hell. And the police didn’t seem to be doing anything. They had interviewed the guy,
and he had told them his alibies and whereabouts during the killings.
I didn’t believe any of it. It was very frustrating, knowing what he was capable of, to have him on the loose like this. And Sophia was right. They couldn’t just arrest him if they didn’t have hard evidence. The fact that he looked like the guy in the drawing wasn’t quite enough.
I stared at Sophia across from me. I wondered about Morten and what he had been doing this last week. I couldn’t believe he had nothing to link the guy to the killings.
“He’s killed five people,” Sophia. “I don’t think we should. It’s way too dangerous.”
Sophia shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I just thought that, maybe if you were face to face with him, then maybe you could be sure it was, in fact, him you saw run from the house that night. Then you could tell the police that you’re certain it was him.”
“I’m not sure it’s enough,” I said. “They need more evidence to place him there.”
“We could go there and pretend to be journalists. Tell him we wanted to do an interview with him. He loves that stuff. Maybe we could snoop around a little. See if we could find a pair of ruby red slippers or something? Then call the police and let them know where to find it.”
“That’s not an awful idea,” I said. “But what if he recognizes me?”
“You think he saw you that night?”
I shrugged and sipped my coffee. I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach. I had been passive for too long now. I really needed to do something about this guy. I felt like, if I didn’t, then no one would. The police didn’t have the capacity to investigate this properly. And, even if they did, they might be too late. This guy could kill a lot of people while we waited for them to build a case.
“I don’t know. It was dark. He was under the streetlamp, so that’s why I could see him. I don’t know how much he was able to see from where he was standing. I doubt it if he could see anything at all.”