by Willow Rose
I put a hand on Morten’s shoulder to try and make him relax. He was very tense.
“Let’s just go,” I said. “Let’s go talk to this guy who threatened Jonas Boegh.”
22
July 2014
I HAD FOUND the IP-address that the e-mail was sent from, and knew that Furious’s real name was Poul Beckman. He lived less than an hour’s drive north of Esbjerg.
Morten was quiet most of the way. I tried to speak and cheer him up, but had no luck.
While in the car, Morten’s phone suddenly rang, and he found a rest area to pull off at, so he could speak. Morten always followed the rules so neatly. Even though it was illegal to speak on the phone while driving, I always did it anyway.
I looked at him while he walked around in the parking lot and talked. His face was very serious. It frightened me slightly.
Once he was done, he stood for a few seconds outside the car, like he needed to catch his breath before he got back in. He was pale.
“Who was that?”
“Forensics. They wanted to give me a preliminary report.”
“So, what did they say?” I asked. His pale face made me fear for what would come next.
Morten looked at me. He looked like he was about to throw up.
“You’re scaring me here, Morten. What is it?”
“He took his heart,” he whispered.
“He did what?”
“The man’s heart is missing. It was cut out. Removed.” He sighed. “That’s why there was so much blood. The guy was still alive when it was done. Probably unconscious, but still.”
“Why the heck would someone take another person’s heart? A souvenir?” I said, feeling slightly nauseated myself. This thing sounded less and less like an assassination over money.
“I…I don’t know. I’m no expert…” Morten threw his hands in the air. “Maybe like a hunter taking the heart of its prey.”
“Like a trophy?”
Morten shook his head. He turned the key and started the car again. “I don’t know.”
“But now you have something you can use when interrogating Poul Beckman. This hasn’t been in the papers yet, so if he knows anything about it, then he knows a little too much.”
“Good point.”
Morten steered the car back onto the road, and we continued towards Tarm, the city whose name meant Colon in Danish, which I had always found to be strange…that you would call a city that.
Even if I was disgusted by the news, I did feel a little better. Finally, Morten and I were communicating again. We were talking and working together. I liked that.
“Anything else they could tell you?” I asked after a little while. “Any fingerprints, shoeprints, fibers, hairs?”
“Nothing. He was very careful.”
“A pro.”
Morten shrugged. “Or at least intelligent.”
“That too.”
“What about the shoes?” I asked.
“What about them?” Morten asked.
“They’re not your everyday shoes. Why don’t you try and track them? Where do you buy shoes like those?”
Morten looked at me and laughed.
“What?”
“Sometimes you’re just such a girl. The shoes.”
Morten took an exit and drove onto a small street, guided by his GPS.
“What is that supposed to mean? Those kinds of shoes you can’t buy in any ordinary store, I’ll tell you that much.”
The GPS told us we had reached our destination. Morten parked in front of the house. We hadn’t called in advance, since we didn’t want this guy to run, so we had to take the chance that he would be home.
“Well, that might be. But I don’t have time to call all the shoe stores in the area to find out where you can buy these. I would, if it wasn’t just me on this case, but unfortunately, it is. Now, I’ll go knock on the door to this house and hope to find this guy home. You stay here.”
“Go get him,” I said with a smile. I grabbed my laptop from the back seat and put it on my knees. I found an unprotected Wi-Fi-network from somewhere nearby and went online. “Don’t forget this.”
I reached across his seat and handed him the e-mail. “Don’t forget to find out how much he knows about a body’s anatomy. Not everyone would know how to cut out a heart.”
“I got this,” Morten said, slightly offended, and grabbed the e-mail. “Last time I checked, I was the police officer here.”
“Okay. You’re right. You’re the man.”
Morten leaned over and kissed my nose, then left the car. I pretended to be on the computer until I saw him walk inside the house. As soon as his back disappeared, I sprang out of the car and ran around the house. I wanted to see this guy in person. Luckily for me, he liked to leave the window open to the living room on such a warm summer day.
23
July 2014
“SO, WHAT CAN I do for you, Officer?”
The voice had to be Paul Beckman’s, I thought to myself. I didn’t dare to look in the window, in case either of them saw me. I felt ridiculous squatting underneath the window like this. But I was just so curious, I couldn’t help it. I promised myself I wouldn’t sit here for long. If Morten found me, he would think I had finally lost it.
“I’m sorry to disturb you like this, Mr. Beckman,” Morten said. “But I’m here because of this e-mail.”
There was a silence and I suspected that Morten had handed Paul Beckman the printout. I would kill to be able to see his face right now, but I didn’t dare to look.
“I…I’m sorry, Officer. The e-mail was written in anger. I…I never meant anything by it. A harmless joke.”
Morten cleared his throat. “Well, not as harmless as you might think. I take it you haven’t heard what happened to Jonas Boegh and his wife?”
Hadn’t heard it? It was all over the news? If he pretended to not have heard it, he had to be lying.
“Heard what?”
“It’s been in the news all day yesterday and this morning,” Morten said.
“I’m sorry. I’m a truck driver. I haven’t been in the country the past week. Just got back from a trip to Poland this morning. I’ve been sleeping all day, since I had to drive all night.”
“Do you have anyone who can confirm that?” Morten asked.
“Sure. My boss can tell you I was there. The company I delivered the goods to can as well. I can have them contact you, if you like.”
“Probably going to need that.”
“So, what happened to them?” Paul Beckman asked.
“They were murdered in their home while they were in their bed.”
There was a pause. I wanted so badly to look up, but did I dare to? I wanted to see if this guy was a liar or not. I lifted my head slowly and peeked inside. There he was…slightly overweight, red beard, bald. He was shaking his head slowly while looking at the photograph Morten had brought.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “I guess I can understand why you’d come to me…you know, after that e-mail I sent.”
“You did tell him to sleep with one eye open.”
Paul Beckman sighed. “I was angry. I have issues with anger, okay? She was my daughter…he got the creep off. I was frustrated. Helpless. I let the anger get the best of me. What would you have done?”
“Probably not have written a threatening e-mail,” Morten said, with his calm voice.
“Okay, so I was mad at the guy. I get it. I have a motive. I might want to hurt him, but killing him? Killing him and his wife? Don’t you think I would have chosen to kill the kid instead? To hurt the one who actually hurt my daughter?”
He made a good point. Didn’t sound like he was lying either. Either he was innocent, or a really good actor. Plus, he had the alibi.
He could have done it anyway. Who would notice if he made a stop on the way?
“Okay, Mr. Beckman. I’ll leave you for now, but you should stay in the country, in case we need to talk to you again,
” Morten said.
“I can’t do that. I drive a truck!” Paul Beckman said, raising his voice. “It’s my entire life. I need to make money. I have to pay alimony. My ex and her new husband insisted on putting my daughter in that boarding school, and that I have to pay half of it. It’s ruining me! If you ask me to stay in the country, I’ll make no money!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Beckman, but you’ll have to stay here until I tell you otherwise. I can’t have you suddenly disappearing on me.”
“That’s BS and you know it.” Paul Beckman was yelling now.
Uh oh.
I felt my heart rate go up, but Morten remained calm. He was very good in situations like this. “Mr. Beckman, you have to calm down, or I’ll have to take you in. Do you hear me?”
I could hear Mr. Beckman snort aggressively. “Please, leave my house. I need to get some sleep,” he said, growling.
I could hear them walking towards the door. I crawled along the house wall, hoping and praying I would make it to the car before Morten got out. I could hear them by the front door, and I stormed towards the car, opened the door and crept inside, then took my laptop back on my knees, just as I saw Morten walking towards me. I smiled and waved. He got inside and started the car.
I was out of breath, but managed to hide it. I tapped on the computer.
“So, how did it go?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said with a grin.
“What?”
“Did you get those green marks on your knees while sitting in the car?”
I looked down and saw very visible grass stains from crawling across the grass. Then I blushed.
Morten laughed and shook his head. “Is there any more chocolate cake left?”
24
May 2009
LOUISE WAS SMILING while putting on lipstick. She watched her face in the mirror. It had changed. She had changed. Ever since her visit to the prison, everything inside of her had changed. At first, she had been a little taken aback, a little scared when he had taken her like that in the visiting room, but after a little while, she had learned to enjoy it. He had been rough. His hands had hurt her, but she had kind of liked it. She had liked the way it made her feel.
Like a real woman.
For the first time in her thirty-eight years on this earth, she felt loved. For the first time, she felt like she was worth something. She had even cooked, for once. She had made lasagna, and the smell was intoxicating. She was going to cook for herself from now on, and not just eat microwave dishes or her mom’s food that she always stuffed in her freezer every time they came by. No, Louise had realized that she was actually capable of doing things herself, of taking care of herself. Bjarke Lund had taught her that. During her visit, after they had sex, they had talked. He had told her she could do anything she wanted to in life.
“Anything?” she said. “But…but I have a disease? I have a mental illness,” she said. No one had ever talked to her like he did…like she was an equal.
“So what?” he said. “Everybody goes a little crazy now and then. Lots of people have mental illnesses, yet still do big things.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Besides, I don’t think you’re so different. You seem pretty normal to me. Believe me, you can do a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”
So, Louise had started doing things she had never dared before…and with great success. She was determined to be able to take care of herself and not depend so much on her parents anymore. Up until now, they had done everything for her. They had washed her clothes, they had cooked for her, and they even took care of her finances. But that was about to change. Louise wanted to take control of her own life. She had already done so by visiting Bjarke Lund without her parents knowing it. And she was going to visit him again, next week, and probably the week after that again.
Her parents noticed the change when they came to visit later that evening. As usual, her mother had brought a casserole, assuming that Louise had no food in the house.
“You look different,” she said, as she air-kissed Louise’s cheek. “Did you do something to your hair?” She gasped. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
Louise’s dad smiled and held her tight when he hugged her. “You smell good,” he said.
Louise smiled and closed the door behind them. “Come in.”
“What’s going on with you?” her mother asked. “I don’t like this, Hans.” She looked at Louise’s dad.
“I think it’s fine, Marlene,” he whispered back. “She seems to be doing well. She looks happy.”
“Get that lipstick off, honey. It looks hideous.” Louise’s mom reached out a hand and smeared the lipstick with her thumb. She held Louise’s head hard with the other hand. Louise tried to protest, but it was always hard when it came to her mother. It was like she possessed this power over her, like she could make her into a small child with just a look or a word.
“Mooom…please, don’t.”
“It won’t come off,” she said. Louise’s mom then spat on her thumb and tried again.
Louise moaned in humiliation.
Her mom finally looked at her and smiled. “There. It’s off. Looks much better like this.”
Then she let go of Louise, who cried and pulled away.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” her mother said. “You look much prettier this way. You looked like a whore with that on. And you’re not a whore, are you Louise?”
Louise bent her head and shook it. “N…No.”
Her mother patted her on the shoulder. “Good. I didn’t think so. I didn’t raise you to be one either. It’s a good thing you have us to guide you. I know you’re not well, honey. I know your disease makes you like this. That’s why your mom and dad are here to help you. You don’t know any better.”
Louise’s mom went into the kitchen and her dad followed her a few steps behind. He didn’t even look at Louise as he passed her, holding the casserole.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” Louise heard her mother chirp from the kitchen. “I’m starving. Oh, you cooked, did you? Well, that was very nice of you, dear, but we can’t eat that. Let’s have the casserole. At least we know what’s in that, right?”
Louise sniffled, and then took in a deep breath. She looked at herself in the mirror in the hallway. The change was gone. The light in her bright blue eyes that had been there since her visit to the prison was gone. In a matter of seconds, her mother had managed to slap her right back to where she came from. Louise stared at her smeared lipstick, and touched her lips gently in the same way Bjarke Lund had done it. She felt anger rise inside of her. She had often felt angry when her mother humiliated her, but never like this. Bjarke had talked to her about anger. He had told her that anger was good for you. It wasn’t supposed to be bottled up inside of you. It was a healthy feeling. It had to come out somehow, or something inside of you would break.
His words had stirred up something inside of Louise, and she realized that years of bottled up anger were about to erupt, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to control it when it did.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
25
July 2014
IT ALL WENT really fast. Once they put the offer down that afternoon, after visiting the house, the realtor called that night and told them that the owner had accepted. Now, all that was left was the paperwork.
In two days, it was all done, and they signed the papers. Friday, they were handed the keys, and started to move in. It was the fastest take-over this realtor could remember, she told them, as she shook their hands goodbye.
It suited Christine perfectly that it had gone so fast, since she was ready to start decorating and wanted it done while she still had the energy and strength. Once her stomach got bigger, she knew it would be too hard.
Jacob smiled and kissed her cheek as he moved a box into the kitchen.
“I can’t believe this is actually ours. Finally, our own house,” she said.
They had bee
n looking for what felt like ages for the right house, and she had been on the verge of giving up…until Jacob and asked if she wanted to go live on Fanoe Island. Since his offices were in Esbjerg, they might as well live out there as in some house north of the city. As soon as they started looking out there, Christine knew they were in the right place. She just felt it. It was so perfect for her. Especially now that she was about to become a mother.
“Emil is going to love it here,” Jacob said, as he carried another box inside.
Christine had wanted to move the kitchen in first, since they were going to need that the most. That, and a bed to sleep in, naturally. He was going to get that next. Jacob had wanted to stay in their rented house a couple of nights more, since they had it until the end of the month, but Christine was so excited about the new house that she wanted to sleep there from the first night.
“Sure…he will,” she said.
She watched Jacob as he carried the heavy box inside the kitchen. They were so happy at this moment. It was like nothing could come between them.
But you’re deceiving him. You have to tell him at some point. You can’t keep it a secret forever.
Christine sighed. No, not now. Not today. She didn’t want to ruin their happiness and joy right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or some time next week when they were all settled in. Jacob had enough on his plate right now. The old house needed to be fixed up before they handed back the keys, and he didn’t want Christine to lift a finger. He would let her unpack a few boxes, but other than that, he had told her to relax and just focus on growing our little Emil.