by Willow Rose
“Plus, it’s a lot to cope with…the fact that someone has been into your house. I really don’t like this, Emma. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone. Brutus is here.”
“That’s good, but still. I worry about you. I’m on my way to Esbjerg now to talk to the chief of police, but I’ll be back later and I’ll come stay at your house.”
“I invited my parents and Sophia and Jack over for dinner tonight,” I said. I felt so thrilled Morten would be there as well. I was going to be with all the people I loved. It was just what the doctor ordered.
“Okay. Well, I’m at the police station in Esbjerg now. I’ll call you later. Will you be okay?” Morten asked.
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be fine. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
We hung up and I wiped my nose on the Kleenex while looking at my list. So far, none of these people came off as anyone wanting to harm me, but I had thought that before, and it turned out that my own mailman was the one pulling the strings. I had to be careful with each and every person I let into my home, and wondered about the construction workers who had been here to finish the house. They had been in and out over the past several days, finishing some woodwork and painting the façade. It could easily be one of them.
I walked to the window and spotted them in the yard. The painters were on the ladder, chatting with the carpenters on the ground. They all seemed very happy. A radio played music.
I stared at them, as if I expected any one them to have blood on their hands or have the words dog-killer written on their faces, but was interrupted once again by my phone. This time it was an unknown number. I took it.
“Emma Frost.”
“It’s Michael.”
I froze. “Michael?”
“I’m just calling to give you a heads up. I want to let you know that I’m taking Victor now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Well, you’re about to go to jail, and your boyfriend is a sex offender. Unfortunately, Maya isn’t mine, so I can’t take her, but I’m taking Victor. I’m not letting him grow up with a criminal and a sex offender, that’s for sure. My lawyer says it’ll be easy as one, two, three.”
44
November 2014
LISA RASMUSSEN GURGLED WATER to clear her throat. Then, she hummed a few notes and sang a scale to warm up her vocal chords. On the other side of the curtain waited the public in the main square of Nordby.
“This is it,” her campaign manager Merethe said.
She annoyed Lisa slightly. Her jacket wasn’t straight, and she had bad breath. The least she could do was to brush her teeth, considering all the money Lisa paid her.
“This is your big speech. This is when you get them to like you. Are you ready?” Merethe asked.
Her breath smelled like cheese. Lisa wrinkled her nose. On the table behind her stood the remains of her kale and cucumber smoothie. She wasn’t going to finish it. Not right before speaking, in case any of the green stuff got stuck in her teeth. Lisa drank some more water and flushed her mouth.
“You’ve got this,” Merethe said.
Was one of her teeth turning yellow?
“You can do it!”
Lisa had a tick in one of her eyes that wouldn’t stop. Probably just nervousness. It had been a bad morning. She had woken up to the news that someone had decided to run against her in the election. An old woman named Jonna Frederiksen had decided she, all of a sudden, wanted to be mayor. She was so old that Lisa didn’t understand why she was bothering, but to the local newspaper she had stated that it was on her bucket list; it was something she wanted to do before she died. Plus, she also believed she had many more years to live, and she could do wonderful things for the island. Especially since she had grown up there and knew every corner and every person. The last part annoyed Lisa immensely. That was the part she didn’t have. This Jonna person was one of the locals. Lisa would never be, and she knew that people preferred their mayor to be one. It was one of their highest priorities, studies showed.
This speech was supposed to be her last speech, her solo appearance, since she was the only candidate, but now it was going to be a duel instead.
“I can do it,” Lisa replied and repeated it while jumping up and down to warm up her muscles. “I can do this. I can do this.”
The old lady suddenly turned up next to her backstage. Lisa recognized her from her picture in the paper. Jonna Frederiksen smiled. Lisa ignored her and kept repeating her mantra while jumping up and down.
“Good luck,” Jonna said.
Lisa squinted her eyes, then looked at Merethe. “What does she mean by that?” she asked.
Merethe shrugged. “Focus on yourself and your own speech. You’re going to win this, Lisa. You are the next mayor of Fanoe Island.”
The words were comforting, even though Merethe’s breath stunk like dead fish and seaweed. Lisa shook her head.
Focus. Focus. You’re going to win this.
Lisa heard the announcer talking. He spoke of how important it was to remember to vote and repeated the date a few times before he finally said the words:
“Give it up for our two candidates. Jonna Frederiksen and Lisa Rasmussen!”
Lisa froze. Why had he said her name last? She looked at Merethe. Her ponytail wasn’t straight. Lisa wanted to correct it.
“Go!” Merethe said.
Applause broke out, and Lisa realized she had missed the big entrance for which she had prepared so much. The old lady had already walked on stage, and now they were applauding her.
Crap!
Lisa rushed after her and onto the stage, putting on her famous election smile and waving at the maybe twenty people standing in front of the stage. They clapped unenthusiastically. Lisa kept smiling and waving while her opponent took her stand. Lisa found her place and adjusted the microphone. She cleared her throat and took in a deep breath.
“Let’s give the first word to Jonna Frederiksen, who just announced her candidacy last night.”
The audience applauded. Lisa growled as Jonna pulled the microphone closer and it made a howling noise. Lisa chuckled as she watched the audience cover their ears and make grimaces.
Amateur. Let her try if she likes. Let her have her dying wish. But mayor she will never become. That seat is mine. You hear me, old lady? It’s mine!
45
November 2014
AS IF THINGS WEREN’T bad enough.
I put the phone down with a bad feeling in my stomach. I could hardly believe everything that was happening to me at once. It was simply surreal. It was like a really bad dream that I just couldn’t slip out of.
I’m coming to get Victor.
The words kept lingering in my mind and I repeated them over and over again in my head. Michael had threatened this before, but for the first time, I was really afraid that he was going to succeed.
Once he heard about the breaking and entering, and the dead dog in my kitchen, on top of everything else, there was no way I would ever see my son again. I felt heartbroken and began looking for some candy I had hidden in the back of my cabinet when the phone rang again. My heart jumped, and at first I didn’t want to pick it up in case it was him again, or just more bad news. I couldn’t take anymore right now.
Still, I checked the display and saw Maya’s name. I picked it up with a strongly beating heart. She wasn’t allowed to turn her phone on during school. Something had to be wrong.
“What’s up, honey? Aren’t you in school?”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m in the restroom. I had to call you.”
“What’s going on?”
“I was in the computer lab this morning, checking my emails, since I can’t do it at home anymore.”
“Yeah, and so?” I looked out the window and kept an eye on the workers. They were on their coffee break, sitting under the big tree talking and drinking coffee out of their thermoses. It didn’t really look like they were conspiring agai
nst me. But, then again, it only had to be one of them.
“I received this strange email. I got really scared, Mom.”
I returned my focus to the conversation. “What kind of email?”
“This guy I know from school sent me an email telling me he just killed some guy, and that he did it because he loved me. Mom, it’s really creepy.”
“Are you sure it’s not just some joke?” I asked.
“I…I don’t know. But it’s a very cruel joke, then. He talks about how this Slender Man has taught him everything and…and that he is one of his proxies, but he’s doing it all for me, he says. I don’t understand it, Mom. What is this?”
“I don’t know, Maya. Does it say anything about who it is he claims to have killed?” I asked.
“Yes. It says I can go to this address and find the body, in case I don’t believe him. It’s like he thinks I think it’s cool or something. But I don’t, Mom. I really don’t. I think it’s so creepy.”
“Of course you do, sweetie. Listen. Send me the address and I’ll go check it out. It’s probably nothing. Probably just some guy trying to be smart and get your attention. Send me the email. I’ll read it on my phone and take a look at it. Don’t worry about it anymore.”
Maya sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. Now get back to class before you get yourself in trouble.”
I hung up and waited for the email to come through. It did almost immediately. I read the text and felt a shiver run down my spine. Maya had been right. This was truly creepy. This boy clearly wasn’t well. The question was whether he had really done what he claimed to. I had to find out. I was going grocery shopping anyway for tonight’s dinner, so I might as well swing by this address and make sure everything was all right.
I filled Brutus’ bowl with fresh water and food for a couple of hours, then rushed out to my car and drove off, forgetting the grocery list on the counter.
46
July 1965
THEY SPENT AN ENCHANTED day together at Ulrik’s parents’ farm. Jonna loved everything about the place and, little by little, Ulrik’s many concerns for his future evaporated. Looking into her beautiful blue sparkling eyes and seeing all the excitement in them made him believe in his future for the first time in his life. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all, that he had to take care of pigs for the rest of his life. Not if she would be by his side. Jonna put it all in a new perspective for him.
“Look at how happy the kids are here. All kids should grow up on a farm, if you ask me,” she said, and pointed at Per and Erling, who were playing with the dogs, their clothes smeared in dried up mud. “Look!” she said again, and then let out a light laugh.
But Ulrik had only eyes for her. They had sat down at the table outside on the patio, where his mother was about to serve afternoon tea and buns. All day, she had been laughing like this and seeing things in a way Ulrik had never been able to. She had turned it all around and, suddenly, Ulrik was seeing it too. The pigs were adorable, cute even; the kids weren’t noisy and annoying, they were happy and joyful; the mud was fun, the dogs for playing with, and the big trees surrounding the property were stunning. Oh, how Jonna had loved the trees. Perfect for lying beneath and reading a good book.
“And all this is going to be yours one day?” she had said, almost singing when he showed her the cornfields in the back.
For once, Ulrik had proudly answered, “Yes.”
Ulrik’s mother served them tea, and they sat in silence and drank and ate while the kids continued their playing. Ulrik saw how his mother looked at Jonna, and knew that she liked her. She had even brought out the nice China. The dishes she had inherited from Ulrik’s great-grandmother.
“It’s such a wonderful place you have here, Mrs. Larsen,” she said. “You must all be very happy.”
Ulrik’s mother smiled and poured Jonna another cup of tea. Jonna put sugar in it and stirred.
“We are very happy here,” Ulrik’s mother said, just as Ulrik’s dad joined them.
He grunted angrily as he sat down and his wife poured him tea. He slurped and ate the bun that his wife had buttered for him. His hands were dirty, and he smelled like pig. Ulrik looked at Jonna, fearing that she would be scared off. But she didn’t seem to be. She smiled at Ulrik’s dad.
“I was just telling your wife what a beautiful farm you have, Mr. Larsen,” she said joyfully. “It must be such a joy to be able to work outside like this every day.”
Ulrik’s dad stopped chewing, then nodded. “Sure is,” he said. “Tell that to this kid here. He seems to think the only thing in the world worth doing is burying his nose in a book.” Ulrik’s dad finished his sentence with a grunt, then continued to chew his bun. “Let me have another one,” he said to his wife.
She buttered one for him. “Could I get you to take down Peter’s dinner to old Hansen’s after you’re done eating?” his mother then asked. “He’s staying till it gets dark tonight.”
Ulrik sighed. “But that’s gonna take the rest of the afternoon. Jonna and I were planning on going to the library downtown before I escort her home.”
Ulrik’s dad grunted again. “You do as your mother tells you, son. Take the two bandits with you as well. Your mother can’t keep an eye on them and cook dinner at the same time.”
“But…”
“Do as your mother tells you,” his dad repeated, and gave him a look telling him there would be no arguing. Ulrik knew to stop. It was no use arguing with his father, even if he tried. Ulrik looked at Jonna, who put her hand on top of his. “We’d be glad to be of help,” she said. “It’s no problem.”
47
November 2014
THE ADDRESS LED ME to an apartment in downtown Nordby. It was located on the main street, looking out at the square. A very nice location, I thought. The street was closed to cars, so I parked further down the road and walked the rest of the way. I had to cross the square to get to the apartment. Something was going on in the center of it. A stage had been set up, and people had gathered to listen. It was the candidate’s last debate. I had read about it in the newspaper that had been my main source of information ever since I had lost my computer. Well, that and Sophia.
Apparently, there was a last minute candidate for the election, challenging Lisa Rasmussen. To be frank, I really wanted to hear what she had to say; I really wanted her to be better than Lisa, whom I thought was very odd. But that wasn’t why I was there. I could read all about it in the morning paper, so I hurried past and found the right building. I looked at my phone and checked that I had the right address. I did. I buzzed a couple of buttons, and told some old lady that I was the paperboy. Strangely enough, she bought it.
I walked up the stairs till I reached the third floor. There were two apartments there, but according to the email, it was the one to the right. I looked at the door, and the name on the outside.
PETER LARSEN
The name made me wonder. It was, after all, less than a few days ago that another Larsen had been brutally murdered in his home. It was, of course, a fairly common name in this country, but still? Helle Larsen’s second son had been a Peter.
My heart beat fast as I rang the doorbell. There was no answer. I knocked, still nothing. I opened the letterbox in the door.
“Hello? Peter Larsen? Are you home?”
There was no answer, but something else was there. Flies. A ton of them. They swarmed around my face. I spat and pulled my head back. Then I grabbed the handle and pulled it. The door was open. This wasn’t a good sign. People didn’t leave their homes unlocked. At least not anymore. I had been told that there used to be a time when people on this island would never lock a door.
I saw him as soon as I opened the door. Well I saw someone sitting in a chair with his back turned at me. A long track of blood across the carpet in the hallway told me something bad had happened here. There was also a smell.
“Hello?”
I walked closer to the figure in the chair in
the living room with the long silver ponytail. I felt anxious. Should I call Morten and ask him to come before I proceeded? Should I have just sent the email to the police, instead of coming here all on my own? Would they believe me with everything else that was going on?
I swiped away the many flies surrounding me and walked cautiously towards him. His head was bent forward. He was tied to the chair with a thick rope.
“Hello? Peter Larsen?”
I approached the man with an eerie feeling inside.
He’s not moving. He’s not answering. Something is wrong here. Something is very wrong. Please, let him be asleep. Please, let him just be asleep.
I walked around the man in the chair, expecting the worst, but nothing I could have imagined could ever have prepared me for this.
Oh, the horror. I didn’t even know this was possible?
The man’s throat had been cut horizontally with a sharp object, and his tongue was pulled out through the open wound, making it look like a necktie.
I gagged, then turned around and threw up for the second time this day.
48
November 2014
“LET ME START OFF by telling you all a little story,” Jonna Frederiksen began.
Lisa rolled her eyes with a smirk.
Now isn’t that sweet? The old lady wants to tell stories. Well, go ahead, granny. Bore them to death.
“The other day I was on my way home from SuperBrugsen. I had just bought some milk and a few other things.”
Come on! Please! Who cares what you bought in the supermarket. This is an election, for crying out loud.
But, much to her surprise, the audience seemed to be interested in her story. Lisa looked at their faces and realized most of them were also old. They could relate to what she was saying, couldn’t they?