A CHILD MADE TO ORDER: gripping psychological suspense

by Piotr Ryczko

Beside the Chief Inspector stood two other police officers who witnessed their exchange. Chief Inspector pointed towards Pål.

  “That man claims he was helping you uncover illegal criminal activity inside the clinic InviNordica,” he noted with a flat neutrality in his voice.

  But Viola knew that was exactly his intention, behind her possible yes to this simple fact, lurked many more questions. Ones she was far from prepared to answer.

  She nodded, which immediately was taken as the first step towards a full confession. But then she pointed towards Ronny.

  “I know that man. He is my partner. He was about to pick me up after my stay at InviNordica. The other man, Pål Skarbom, I do recognise him. He was very helpful in my search for a missing person. But that was two years ago, if not longer. And I haven’t seen him since.” She summed up the whole situation and wrapped it into as little drama as she could.

  The cops exchanged curious glances, and she sensed an immediate tension developing in the room. She knew that she had given a preposterous explanation.

  “Let me get this right. What you are saying is that even though your partner was caught together with Mr. Skarbom in the same car. At the same time. Listening in on stolen hardware from our station, it was... ummm... a coincidence?”

  Viola eyed everybody and considered the consequences. Her mind raced through all the possible options and outcomes. The most sensible thing would be to come clean, help them both, explain everything to the police. Maybe in this simple action, she would find some understanding, maybe even some leniency.

  Then her mind swept to the women inside the clinic. They weren’t being kept as prisoners, and despite Magda’s unnerving nature, Viola had no evidence to suggest anyone was being exploited. On the contrary, dreams were being fulfilled and lives saved. And there was the little matter of the metal container that rested safely in her pocket. What would happen if she revealed these facts to the police, here and now?

  However she turned this whole mess, whichever way she decided to go, somebody got hurt. So she decided on the course she had always used in these type of situations, her escape hatch that had always worked.

  She postponed the inevitable.

  “That’s exactly what I am saying,” she answered simply. This was immediately met with a collective groan from the policemen. The Chief Inspector sent her a pained gaze. Then he fished out a Dictaphone from his backpack and pressed its button.

  “Help. Help...” The Dictaphone sounded, and Viola heard her own voice while she was being put under, during the egg retrieval.

  “The recording from the equipment. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” the Chief Inspector said. And beneath these words, she felt the cop’s concern for what she was about to do now. But Viola only shrugged her shoulders.

  “I don’t know what you are suggesting, Officer. If it’s familiar, then that’s only to you,” Viola finished, firmly placing her bet on all or nothing.

  The older detective held his gaze for way too long, drenching her with a perverse calmness. Was that his way of intimidating his victims? If it was, then it worked. Viola felt her limbs swell up with fear, her jaw clasp until it locked tight. She felt her pulse explode, and her throat gasp for anything that would resemble air. She knew she had pushed it way too far. But what options did she have now? Admit to her lies?

  Her attention drifted to Ronny behind the one-way glass. She realised his face was in a gut-wrenching grimace. He was at his limit. This wouldn’t have happened, if she had some control over herself. His life wouldn’t be as screwed up as it was now. And she realised now more than ever, this man wouldn’t have had to suffer, if she had managed to say no to this. To her craving disguised as a noble need.

  But before she could make things any worse, the Chief Inspector clasped onto her shoulder with little remorse. Then he thrust her towards a more secluded part of the office.

  * * *

  The Chief Inspector’s breath pummelled her face. She felt herself fumble backwards, and hit her spine against the wall. Her comfort zone had been broken by his proximity. She saw it in his frozen eyes, laser-focused on how to pry apart her skull.

  She expected he would launch into the legal consequences of her lies at any moment. He would draw out a long line of accusations, which not only would create a public scandal, with her right in the middle of it, but would also get her sentenced for a good number of years.

  But his face softened, then he backed off a bit, and his lips whispered instead.

  “A year ago, Pål incarcerated a boy. Small-time drug felony. Testified in court... But after the sentence, the boy decided he would rather hang himself than face his father. Turned out his father was Ukrainian drug mob. Two days later, Pål found his son and wife dead. Both hanged.” He shared Pål’s story out of nowhere. And it was done with reverence for this man’s life.

  She expected accusations, professional attacks, and if all else failed, personal ones. The only thing she didn’t expect was the truth.

  Now she understood that this man actually cared for Pål. There was no doubt about it, his words were grief-stricken, his otherwise calm surface now shaken. He and Pål had a history together, maybe even a close one.

  “And Pål?” she prodded gently for the rest of the story.

  “Soon after, he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. The guy is a mess. His mind can’t remember half of what he has been through. And the other half is all jumbled. The experts tell the family lies, that it’s a coping mechanism. They even tell them he will get through it. I just tell them the truth. It’s hell. And he is still living it.” The Chief Inspector uttered the words, but from the looks of his face, he had difficulties coping with this himself.

  She had come along, gotten some strange ideas into Pål’s head. Made him do things he couldn’t possibly take responsibility for. And now the Chief Inspector, by telling this simple story, was pleading with her to straighten things out.

  Her mind felt smothered under the implications. She gazed at Pål in the other room, and realised the Chief Inspector’s story had altered Pål’s face. Or maybe just the way she perceived him. The creases in the middle-aged man’s face were tinged with the weariness of a man lacking hope. The sheer weight of his skin, carved all the life experiences into his face. And all told the same story: no amount of good intentions or compassionate deeds would turn this man’s life around.

  “That man. He is... my...” The Chief Inspector stalled as he immediately realised he had gone too far, revealed way too much of himself. He collected himself, backed off emotionally, and continued in a more distanced tone.

  “He faces charges now. And you are in a unique position to help him.” He finished his moral appeal to her.

  Rarely had she been so shaken by someone’s words. Not only by the story itself, but by the simple fact that she saw how deeply she had crossed her own values. The same qualities she fought so hard for in her stories, but failed so miserably at in her own life.

  She could still turn this around. She knew that.

  And she would do it. Right this moment.

  She took in a big breath, while she repeated to herself that the first words would be the hardest. After that, everything would get easier.

  “I’ve got nothing to add.” She heard the words uttered somewhere in the room. But she had difficulty connecting them to a person. She looked around, but found no source. Surely, it couldn’t be her. After all, she was about to tell them the truth. But as she glanced into the Chief Inspector’s face, she began to have some doubts. And as the silence continued, the doubt grew into an absolute certainty.

  The words had come from her lips.

  The Chief Inspector’s eyes filled with regret. He was done with her. And without any more ceremonies, he looked over Viola’s shoulders and nodded to another cop.

  “Release them. For now.” He turned to walk out.

  This was all she needed to hear. If she had to stay here one more minute, she would shriek at the top
of her lungs. Not because of this man’s story, but because she hated being around herself.

  And as she began to race for the exit, she heard the Chief Inspector’s words carve into her again. She swerved around, but only because she had to.

  “You know what I learned later on? Pål’s family was threatened by the mob before his testimony. He could have avoided all of this. But he stood up for what he believed in.”

  She realised she wouldn’t make it out of this place without hearing what she feared the most.

  “I’ve always admired your stories, Miss Voss. That’s why I was somehow expecting the same integrity from you.” His voice had turned into a whisper and held all the more power.

  And this time there was nothing neutral about his assessment of her. Only a conclusive judgement on her character.

  Chapter 23

  Evening

  She had longed to throw up. She had prayed for it while at the toilet, but nothing had come up. She had thought her body couldn’t take any more of this battering.

  But then the Chief Inspector had ordered Ronny and her to exit separately from Pål. And she had felt relieved. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle any more of the ex-cop’s accusations. The guy had done everything possible to help her. And when he had needed her help, she had betrayed him.

  And now, as they made their way out of Grønland’s HQ, the feeling that she was about to hurl all her intestines onto the sidewalk still pervaded her body.

  Still, she made sure she thrust Ronny as hard as she could towards the cab. She clenched onto his hand even tighter, sent him a forced smile, and did everything not to glance back.

  They were just reaching the cab when Viola felt someone’s presence glide in behind her. Before she could react, Pål blasted right at them, his adrenaline pumped up through the roof, his eyes delirious from zero sleep. He yanked at Viola’s neck and grabbed onto her jacket. She shrugged him off, tore herself away from his grip, then rushed towards the cab door.

  “Hey, Lady! Stop! Hey! What the fuck was that back there?” he spat out at them both. She glimpsed him from the corner of her eye, but didn’t dare to turn around. Instead, she pushed Ronny into the cab, doing everything she could to avoid the confrontation.

  But this wouldn’t be enough, as the ex-cop threw himself into Viola’s face.

  “You have any idea what it is like to have a stranger coming to your apartment three times a week? Just because everybody thinks I am... a fucking danger to myself?” He cursed the words at her, and she knew he had every right to do that.

  She glanced into Ronny’s eyes and watched as confusion began to cloud his vision.

  “Pål, please. I had no choice back there. I...” she started, but halfway through the words just petered out into nothingness. This was futile and she knew it. How could she explain to this man what was at stake in that clinic, in her life, without sounding like a raving egomaniac?

  “Bullshit. Go back there. Tell them the truth. This thing with InviNordica, that was my ticket back to my work... to a normal life.” Pål’s words stung her, and the more she heard, the more she felt a need to escape.

  But as her eyes went for the cab’s door, Pål grabbed for her throat. The man’s massive hands smothered her while Ronny just stood there and didn’t even budge an inch.

  “And do you know what my life feels like? Like I am on a fucking trial and Kafka is doing the judging,” Pål rasped at Viola. And after all, she couldn’t blame him. Had she been in his place, she would have done the same. A long time ago.

  Finally, Ronny woke up from the stupor he seemed to have been in, and threw himself at Pål. He grabbed the cop, forcing Pål to let go of Viola’s throat. Instead of halting his rage, though, it escalated, now channelled at Ronny. And where Pål’s mind had still exercised some restraint due to Viola’s sex, in Ronny’s case all the consideration was dispensed with.

  Pål twisted Ronny’s arm, crunching it against his shoulder, headbutting him in the face. Ronny was pummelled down, his blood splattering all over the curb. Viola attempted to get up, but wasn’t sure where she was. Her mind retched out of sync with reality, spewing up indecipherable images.

  Still, she registered bits and pieces. She saw Pål, or was that his hands? Maybe even his feet. Kicking, battering. Was it at Ronny? At this point, she wasn’t sure of anything. She saw a knee drive into Ronny’s throat; Pål’s face contorted in agony.

  “You know what your relationship is?” The traffic noises blasted at her senses as people gathered around them. Despite all of this, Pål’s words carved themselves into her brain as if someone separated them from the rest of reality and amplified them right into her eardrums.

  “A damned lie. Mitochondrial disease? Ring a bell? And you know what that means? Baby cripple. That’s the best she will fucking give you.”

  She had dreamed of meeting a guy like Ronny. And suddenly this wish had been fulfilled. There he was. Prepared to go through hell for her.

  And just a couple of hours ago, she had made the impossible journey, had made the unfeasible jump. She was about to conquer her demons tonight, and tell him everything, tell him about her disease. All the truth that had poisoned her for the last twenty years. They would have hugged and she would have cried, and if he had a little bit of heart, maybe he would even have forgiven her. Eventually.

  But now?

  The cop staggered away from her into some blurry nothingness. Then her eyes strayed towards her man. She barely caught a glimpse of Ronny’s blood-spattered face, and there was nobody at home. She whipped her head around at the countless people who were observing them, pleading for help. But nobody lifted a finger.

  She had no idea how much time passed. It could have been seconds or minutes. Finally, she forced her body to get up. She was barely able to support Ronny’s battered body, as she pushed him into the cab.

  Chapter 24

  Tuesday, 16th February 2016

  Late evening

  When they got home, they had still not exchanged a single word. And she did everything she could to make sure that it stayed that way. As she ran upstairs, her mind spun endlessly on a simple sentence.

  “A fifty-fifty chance. Willing to gamble, Madame?” The words reverberated in her mind, but she couldn’t place their origin. Viola fled to the only place where she was certain the door would remain locked. The bathroom.

  She let the tap run, just to uphold some kind of pretence. Then it struck her that for the first time since this havoc started, she was finally alone. And just at this realisation, her body crumpled to the floor, as her throat gave in to a silent wail.

  Her life had always been a broken roller coaster. But nothing had caused more of an upheaval than the endless row of IVF cycles. Then, one day about five years ago, she met an acquaintance, while abroad. This particular doctor mentioned a new variation of the IVF treatment, three-parent IVF, only performed in Spain. She learned this IVF specially catered to certain rare genetic diseases, including mitochondrial disease. This was the most serious step towards helping women like her.

  Still, she held onto her resolve, and felt an immense inner strength when she turned down this opportunity. She would not go through another bout of hormonal hell and pulverised dreams. She knew what that road meant, what kind of inner emotional desert it left behind. Never again.

  She returned home, but after only two days, she found herself in feverish pursuit of what that treatment really entailed. She met doctors, specialists and whatnot. Most of them wouldn’t even discuss this with her. But the ones that did, painted a similar picture of this treatment. Considering her condition, this was not only illegal in Norway but most of all, a huge gamble for her and the child’s health. Although she might make it, there was still a fifty-fifty chance the child wouldn’t. “Are you willing to gamble, Madame?” one of the doctors summed up with a smirk on his face.

  She let the thing go and returned to her job. The people in her stories were the only thing that filled the hole ins
ide her.

  But soon enough she realised she couldn’t sleep anymore. This escalated into an eating disorder, and finally, a leave of absence. After two more weeks, she was on the plane to Barcelona, torn inside by wants, needs, rights, and wrongs. Hope she would finally fulfil her dream, and a clear realisation she had broken a sacred vow to herself.

  Two weeks later, her embryo transfer was a resounding success. For the first time in her life. She couldn’t believe it.

  A dream came true, and a nightmare was about to begin.

  She was jolted back to reality by a knock on the door.

  It was Ronny.

  Late evening

  She had opened the door, and he had politely stepped in, without touching her. Then he had reclined on the floor, as far from her as possible. As they glanced into each other’s eyes, she felt a wall separating them now.

  “I need to know. Please,” he whispered. Beneath his words was a desperate plea from a man whose whole world had just been wrenched away. Whenever their gazes connected, a jolt of pain passed through Viola. She knew she had lost him and this attempt at a normal conversation, this was just him seeking closure.

  “He lied. Pål lied,” Viola heard herself say. And it came as no surprise to her; these words, the lies, came with a chilling ease to her. After all, they weren’t hers, she reasoned with herself. They originated from some other part of her. A big chunk of her that couldn’t deal with the stuff she had gone through all these years. This fragment was willing to do whatever had to be done. Fleeing, lying, even hurting people, just so it would keep all the bad stuff away.

  She gazed at his face, and immediately registered a deeply hidden annoyance. The truth struck her right in the gut. The veil she had draped over his eyes for the last two years was lifted now. Whatever she said or however she said it, it didn’t matter.

  “Tell me I am wrong, but for the past two years you’ve done everything to avoid the subject of kids. And with your career and all, I could understand so I never pushed it. But it was the mitochondrial disease, wasn’t it?” He began to utter his accusation, but she instantly shook her head.