by Willow Rose
When Hanne opened her eyes again, the dripping had stopped. She looked under the door of the booth and realized a puddle had shaped on the floor. A puddle of water.
Hanne gasped, then got up. She pulled up her pants and opened the door. She stared at the puddle on the floor, then at the sinks. They were pretty far away. How had the water gotten all the way over here? Was there a leak in one of the toilets maybe? But the puddle seemed so round and didn't seem to be connected to any source.
Where did the water come from?
Hanne walked around the puddle, then looked toward the sinks again. Maybe there was a pipe somewhere that dripped? As her head remained turned, she heard a small drip coming from behind her, and she turned to look with a gasp. But nothing was there. There were rings in the water though.
Hanne stared at the water moving beneath her, then heard a slow slithering sound coming from above her. Heart pounding, she lifted her glance and looked up.
What she saw up there under the ceiling made her stop breathing. Her first—and final—thought was that of excitement, as the pillar of massive water began gushing down her throat, being forced explosively inside her body till she slowly suffocated.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"Yes?"
"You don't recognize me?" the man standing outside my door said. "We met…months ago. My wife…Ann?"
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh, dear Lord, I’m so sorry. I didn't recognize you. Brian, right?"
He nodded.
"I’m so sorry; come on in."
"Thank you," he said and followed me inside.
We walked to the kitchen where I served him some hot chocolate and bread with butter and jam. I didn't ask him if he wanted anything, but just assumed he needed it. The way I was raised, you didn't let anyone inside your house without feeding them. It was a Danish thing, I guess. And it was impolite for the guest to say no, so it went both ways.
He smiled a sad, yet affirming, smile. "Thank you."
I grabbed a second round myself, and we ate. "So…Brian. First of all, I’m so sorry for your loss."
He took in a deep breath like he needed more air for what came next, then nodded. "Thank you."
"How're you holding up?"
"I…I…Not so good, to be honest."
"Well, it's a big loss," I said and sipped my hot chocolate. For some reason, I kept hearing my mother's annoying voice in my head telling me not to drink that sugary stuff. She had a way of getting in my head at the most inconvenient times. I ignored it. "And quite unexplainable. Have the police come any closer to figuring out what happened to her?"
"Well…they kind of think I might be involved."
"No!"
"Yes, I’m afraid so. They keep asking me to come to the mainland for questioning. They can't seem to figure out how she landed in our bed when she drowned."
I sipped more of my hot chocolate while looking pensively at him. "It is strange. You have to give them that."
A tear shaped in Brian's eye and he wiped it away.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I’m making you emotional. That wasn't my intention."
"It's okay," he said. "I had promised myself that I wouldn't cry, but it's…hard. I feel so…guilty."
"That's only natural," I said. "Anyone would feel that way."
"Yeah, well for me, it's a little more than normal guilt. See…I was with this woman…when…it happened."
"A woman? Another woman?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Ah, I see," I said. "So, you do have an alibi, but not one that you can tell. She married too?"
"Yes," he said and bit his lip.
"And she wouldn't confirm your story even if you told it?" I asked.
"Nope. Can't risk it, she says. She would lose everything."
"But so will you if you go to jail over this?" I said.
"Don't think she cares much about that," he said and took a bite of his bread. A little bit of jam stayed on his upper lip and jiggled up and down as he spoke.
"That's why I’ve come to you."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"I need your help."
Brian took another bite of his bread. I gaped at him. "You want my help? How so?"
He exhaled a deeply-felt breath. His fingers were tapping on the side of his cup like he was contemplating something.
"I read your book."
I blinked a few times, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. "You read my book? Which one?"
"The latest one."
"Where the Wild Roses Grow?" I asked and took a sip from my cup.
He shook his head. "No, the one they're all talking about. Waltzing Matilda."
I almost spit out my hot chocolate.
"You read that?"
"Don't be so surprised," he said. "My sister recommended it to me."
I stared at him, not quite knowing what to say. I had done absolutely no PR for the book and, frankly, I didn't think anyone would read it after what they had said online and in the newspapers. I had hardly even been thinking about it at all since I had doomed it a failed project.
"Your sister? She read it too?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.
"Yes, is that so strange?"
"No…I just...thought…well, I didn't think anyone would read it. Not after what they wrote about it and about me."
Apparently, I had said something funny because Brian burst into loud laughter.
"Are you kidding me? Everyone is reading it. They all had to see what the fuss was about, and I’m telling you, they like it. When I bought the book, it was number seven on the bestselling list."
My eyes literally popped. "What?"
"See for yourself."
I grabbed my phone and went on the webpage. I scrolled down to the rankings and then looked up at Brian.
"It's number one in the store now."
"There you go. And so well deserved. It's good, Emma. I really liked it. And it is also the reason why I’m here."
I looked down again just to make sure my eyes hadn't betrayed me, but it was still true. The book had more than a thousand reviews, and almost all of them were four or five starred. Most of them praised the book for being fiction and praised me as an author for having a wonderful imagination and for finally sharing it with the world.
How on earth is that even possible?
Brian leaned forward and placed a hand on top of mine. "I need your help finding out who killed my wife. You're my only hope if I want to stay out of prison, the way I see it."
"But…but why me?" I asked, putting the phone down. Lots of news to digest all at once.
"Because you believe in the supernatural. You're the only one I know who does around here."
I swallowed hard. "The supernatural? Why do you say that?"
"Because of your book. I know that most people think the book is fiction, but I don't. Had you asked me a few weeks ago, I would have answered differently, but the more I think about my wife's death, the more I realize something out of this world happened to her."
I cleared my throat. "Why exactly do you say that?"
"Because she drowned in our own darn bed."
I nodded. "Okay. But couldn't someone have placed her there to make the blame be cast on you? After drowning her, I mean?"
"Yes, that's a valid point," he said, but then there’s this." Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small container. Inside was what looked like plain water.
"What's this?"
"A sample. There was a puddle on the floor next to the bed when I found her. I took a sample of it and had it analyzed. My wife used to work with stuff like that, so I called up one of her co-workers at the lab and asked for a favor. They came back with this," he said and unfolded a piece of paper. He handed it to me. As I took it, I realized his hand was shaking.
"Read the second line," he said.
My eyes fell on the paper and on the words, but I wasn't sure I understood them. I looked up.
"Human DNA?"
He nodded, holding the containe
r up in the light. "Yes. This water isn't normal water."
"But…how is this possible? How does the water contain human DNA?" I asked and handed the paper back to him.
He shrugged. "I don't know. That's what I was hoping you'd help me find out. Somehow."
I grabbed the container and looked at the water inside it, letting it slide up the sides.
"I’ve seen this before," I said. "And I’m afraid your wife isn't the only one who has fallen victim to this…whatever it is."
Brian's eyes widened. "Really?"
I shook my head, found my phone, and pulled up an article in the local paper about the death of Sven Thomsen. I showed it to Brian.
"But it says he died of natural causes?" he asked. "That he had heart problems?"
"I was there," I said, "when they found him. And I saw the exact same type of water in a puddle right next to his dead body. My guess is whatever killed your wife went after him too, and who knows…maybe others as well?"
"H-how do we figure that out?" Brian asked.
"That's where I come in. If there is anything I’m good at in this world, it's research. Leave that to me."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maya felt miserable. She couldn't sit still on her bed, even trying to watch Netflix on her computer; she'd catch her mind wandering away a few seconds later. Even trying to do her homework, she found herself unable to concentrate.
What was going on with her?
She decided to Google it. According to the Internet, she either had HIV, a concussion, or lead poisoning. It could also be anxiety, another webpage suggested, possibly caused by stress. That sounded most plausible to her, so she looked up more about that. After all she had been through…losing her memory, being kidnapped, and almost being killed by a serial killer she believed was her boyfriend, maybe it wasn't so strange to feel a little anxious every now and then.
She was halfway through an article about stress disorder treatment that she had to restart three times because she kept losing her focus when her phone rang. It was Christina.
"Hi there, stranger. What's going on? We hardly spoke at school today. You seemed so distant. Are you okay?"
Maya took in a deep breath and looked out the window. "I don't know. I think maybe not. I keep feeling so restless, and I can't concentrate on anything. I tried to read up for the history test tomorrow, but none of the words seem to be sticking. I keep looking out the window, and I don't even know what I’m staring at or what I’m thinking about. I don't know what to do. I’m completely out of it. I can't eat anything either because my stomach feels like a knot. I can't think; it's like I can't be in my own body, I can't…I’m afraid that I’m having an anxiety attack or something. I don't know, I am so confused, I keep checking my phone constantly like I am expecting something, but I don't know what it is, I can't…"
"And exactly what are you thinking about when your mind wanders off?" Christina asked.
"What am I thinking about? I…I don't know…"
"Oh, I think you do."
"I think about this morning, I guess," Maya said.
"Ah, and exactly what happened this morning? Why were you late for school?" Christina asked. "You weren't alone, were you? I mean, both you and Alex were suspiciously late."
Maya sunk down on the bed with a deep sigh. "I guess I am thinking about him and the way he almost…kissed me. I keep running over that same scene again and again, but when I think about it, his lips actually touch mine."
"He kissed you? For real this time?"
"Well…no. I mean, he almost did. My mom came in right when he was about to. But he wanted to. And so did I, I guess…"
"I think I know what’s wrong with you," Christina said. "You're in love, my friend."
Maya shot up. "No way."
"Way."
Maya groaned. The butterflies in her stomach went nuts like they had only been waiting for her to realize this turn of events. For so long Maya had fought this. She really couldn't let it happen to her, could she?
Chapter Forty
Maria Finnerup sipped her second cup of coffee and glanced at the screen in front of her. She looked down at the papers next to her, then wrote another couple of lines in her report.
The trials the day before had been very fruitful, and Maria knew she might be looking at something big here. Years of research seemed to be paying off at last. She was looking at a very big bonus coming her way.
As a child, she had always held a love for the extraordinary, and even as she grew up and placed all her faith in science, she knew that there was more to this world than what she had seen so far.
It had all started when she was no more than eight years old and she saw a small rock floating in the air on the playground. It had been right in front of her, like it was staring at her, floating about a foot above the ground. Maria had held her breath and then reached out to grab it, but the rock had moved away fast. It had shot through the air like someone was throwing it, and that was when she thought she saw something else. It was like there was someone there, someone who she had later concluded had been holding the rock. But this someone couldn't be seen. As she reached out her hand, she felt something though. It felt like she grabbed onto a person and that person gasped when she did, but a second later, he was gone. As Maria reached out her hand to grab him once again, there was nothing there. Maria told everyone on the playground at her school about it, even the teachers, but no one ever believed her. Even so, Maria knew what she had seen. She knew there was more to this world and she had dedicated her life to figuring out what. That was how she landed the job at Omicon. She had written an article in Science Now about superhumans or the possibility of people visiting from different worlds, parallel universes, people with strength and powers we could only dream of, much to the laughter and mocking of her colleagues. But she had ended up being the last to laugh because that article was how the people behind Omicon discovered her and then contacted her. Now, she had worked at the lab for twelve years and seen things she could never talk about, but things that would absolutely blow people's minds if they ever knew. But they couldn't know. That was part of the job. The secrecy. She could never reveal her research outside the lab's walls, she was told. But, boy, it was hard when people were mocking you publicly. It was tough not to speak up.
Yet there is a lot about your work you don't want to speak about. A lot you don't even want to think about. The things you have done to get to where you are today.
Maria finished her coffee and realized she had to go to the bathroom. She got up from her chair and walked out to the hallway to the women's room, then pushed the door open.
The first thing that hit her as strange was the sound of water dripping. The sound soon turned into something slithering, something big and wet slithering away.
But this sound was no stranger to Maria, and as she rushed inside and found her co-worker on the floor in a puddle of water, her eyes staring wide open at the ceiling, Maria's heart completely stopped. Not so much because she was sad to lose Hanne; no, it was because she knew she could be next.
Chapter Forty-One
"They work in the same place."
Morten was eating his potato salad and Frikadeller, looking a little distant and only listening to half of what I was telling him.
"What's that? Who does?"
"Are you even listening to me?" I asked and ate another meatball, dipping it thoroughly in the brown sauce.
"Sorry," he said. "Jytte is giving me trouble."
"Now what?" I asked with a sigh.
Morten gave me a look. "Hey. I listen to all your problems with your kids all the time. But, God forbid I even mention my daughter. Of course, my daughter is always the big problem, right?"
I bit my tongue. Me and my big mouth. "Of course, Morten. Of course, you can talk about her. What's going on?"
He exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. She's just…on my case all the time. She doesn’t feel like I am prioritizing her enough. She says I’m here
all the time and she’s lonely at the house."
I closed my eyes for a second. The girl was nineteen; why was that a problem again? Why didn't she have friends she could hang with? But I didn't say any of this out loud, which I was very proud of.
"Maybe you could do something with her soon," I said, secretly applauding myself for being the bigger person. "You could plan a trip together? How about going for a long weekend to Copenhagen and going shopping or something like that?"
Morten growled. "You know I hate that stuff. Plus, I’m swamped at work. We had another death today. Luckily, Allan took it. I couldn't really deal with more dead people."
"Let me guess," I said. "Someone who works at Omicon?"
Morten gave me a look. "As a matter of fact, it was at Omicon, inside the lab. She was found in the bathroom there. How did you know?"
"Well, if you had been listening to what I told you earlier, you’d know I’ve been doing a lot of research today since Brian Mortensen came here and asked for my help. And what I found out is that they both work or have worked for Omicon."
"What do you mean by both?" he asked. "There was nothing strange about Sven Thomsen's death."
"Well, you never had him autopsied, so how would you know?" I asked.
"It wasn't necessary, according to Dr. Williamsen."
"Seriously? You listen to that old geezer now? I mean, I love Dr. Williamsen, don't get me wrong, but what does he know? I bet if you have Sven Thomsen autopsied, you'll realize he died from drowning too."
"He had a weak heart, Dr. Williamsen said. That's enough for me. He had treated him for it and prescribed him medicine. It wasn't odd that the man died. He had been very upset lately with the neighbors, they told us. And the snow and because his daughter had left the island. It isn't exactly rocket science to figure out that his heart couldn't take it anymore."
"But what about the water, Morten, huh? He was soaked in water, and there was a puddle on the floor. I’m telling you, it's not natural what's going on here. I hear it at night. The pipes are banging and rumbling, and then I wake up because there's dripping coming from my bathroom, but as soon as I go out there, it's gone. It disappears back into the drain. I’m telling you, something is going on down there underneath our houses, something strange, and I think that something is killing people."