Peek A Boo I See You (Emma Frost #5) (12 page)

Still, I felt awful.

Why? Well, I just didn't enjoy the idea of my mother with another man. She belonged with my dad and I realized as I sat there in the kitchen staring at a blank page on my computer trying to write my next book while the kids did their homework, that I had somehow thought that was why she had come back. To get my father back.

I sighed and typed a couple of words, then deleted them again. I couldn't believe myself. Was this really true? Was I dreaming of my parents getting back together again after all these years?

Maya was struggling with her math and asked for my help. I showed her how to solve the problem. It was just my luck that I had always been excellent at math.

"I still don't get it," Maya said.

I explained it to her again. She looked at me like I was crazy. Guess I hadn't been able to pass down my good math genes to her. I looked at Victor, who was reading a book about the French Revolution. He seemed to be dwelling on the pictures that I found extremely gross. It had been a bad day for him at school. I had received a call from his principal telling me that Victor had made a report with highly inappropriate details, which he had presented for the class today. He had a slideshow and everything, showing mostly decapitated heads. When the teacher told him to stop, Victor started arguing that this was an important event in history and continued. In the end, the teacher pulled the plug on the slideshow and asked Victor to sit down. That was when Victor had started screaming hysterically. The teacher had then grabbed his shoulder and that had only made things worse. Victor didn't like to be touched, so he had screamed even louder and started hitting. The teacher claimed Victor hit him deliberately in the face, but Victor explained he had just pushed him away to get his hands off of him. Now, the principal thought Victor might be too much for the school to handle and recommended that we start looking for another school, one that maybe knew how to deal with
his kind of mental problems
.

I had no idea where to look for a school like that. I wasn't even sure it existed. I had worked on it all afternoon, checking the web and calling the school, which referred me to City Hall.

"It really isn't our problem," the school's secretary had said. "If the child is too difficult, then we leave it to the county to find another place for him or her."

Too difficult? Who are you calling too difficult?

"The county will appoint a social worker for you to handle the case."

I had hung up feeling like screaming. My son needed a social worker? Was that what it had come to?

"What about the next one?" Maya asked now and showed me another problem she couldn't solve.

"I'm not going to do all of your homework for you," I said. "Try it and see if you can solve it on your own, then I'll help."

Maya exhaled, annoyed. "It's like you don't even want to help me."

"I am helping you by not solving everything for you. You're supposed to be able to do this on your own in class. If I do all your homework, how are you going to handle a test in school?"

Maya rolled her eyes at me. "It's so easy for you to say," she grumbled.

"Maya. I'm not doing it for you!" I said, a little harsher than I meant to.

"Geez. There is no reason to scream," she said, and got up from her chair. She took her math book. "If you don't want to help me. Just say so."

Before I could answer, she had stormed out the door while the tones of the Captain and Tennille singing
Do That to Me One More Time
along with my mother hit me from upstairs.

31

February 2014

"
S
O WHAT DO WE
do, huh buddy?" I asked Victor.

As usual, he didn't answer. He flipped a page in his book. I felt a sadness inside. It was just so difficult. I had no idea how to help him. Like any mother, I only wanted what was best for my boy, but since he had no straight diagnosis, there was simply no help to get. I had been to every doctor and specialist and they all had different opinions. Some said Asperger's, others said he was slightly bipolar, but I didn't believe any of it. I had tried everything anyway, but no medication had helped and no therapy. It was simply frustrating. Moving to the island had definitely helped him improve. He was happier and he went longer between his seizures and tantrums. But, it was like it wasn't quite enough.

I drew in a deep breath and wondered what was supposed to become of him. How was he supposed to get by in this world? They were going to crush him. Putting him in an institution made no sense, since he could do everything himself. He was just so absentminded. He lived in a world of his own. A world I believed was filled with magic and wonders none of us would ever have the imagination or even the intelligence to understand.

But the kids in school were beginning to realize that he was different and I was afraid of him being bullied. I had no idea if he himself realized that he was different, but at some point, he had to know.

"Do you like your school Victor?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Why? What do you like about it?"

"I like that I get to read books while the other kids have to listen to the teacher," he said, without looking up from the book.

"They let you do that, huh?"

"Yes. It’s nice. I know everything the teacher is saying and, that way, I won't interrupt him, he says."

I bit my lip wondering if the teacher was just placing Victor in the corner with a book so he didn't have to deal with him, or if it was so he wouldn't be bored because he already knew everything.

"Maybe we should find you a new school, huh buddy? Would you like that?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "I like my school."

"Okay," I said. "But then you'll have to go by their rules, do you understand? You can't show the class bloody pictures of decapitated heads."

"Why not? It's history?"

"Because it's inappropriate."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't. But when a teacher asks you to stop, you stop. You can't fight with them, okay? If you promise to behave, then I'll see what I can do to help you stay. You might have to see a therapist or something for a little while if the county asks you to."

Victor didn't answer. He flipped another page and continued reading. "No more bringing these books to school, alright? We keep them at home."

I got up from my chair and started on the lasagna I was planning on serving for dinner. I had invited my dad over since my mom was going out. I chopped onions and made the meat sauce, then I put it all together with my secret ingredient, a cheesy Morney sauce and put it in the oven. I wondered if I should make a salad as well when I heard the doorbell and went to open it. Outside stood the mailman. He was nicely dressed and looked very different from how I usually saw him. Almost handsome.

"I'm coming," my mother chirped from upstairs. She made her entrance the way I was certain she had planned it in her head and walked slowly down the stairs in her blue dress.

She looked amazing.

"Wow, Mom. You…you look really great," I said, when she came closer.

"Thank you, darling," she said, and touched my cheek gently.

"I concur," the mailman said and grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. "You look absolutely stunning."

My mother giggled like a schoolgirl. It was all a little absurd, I thought to myself. My mother with her weird face that was constantly smiling and now this guy who was my mailman looking like a George Clooney clone. I couldn't really grasp it. But, as if that wasn’t strange enough, suddenly I spotted my dad coming up the driveway towards the house. He paused when he saw her.

"Ulla?"

32

February 2014

"
U
LLA?"

My dad looked at my mom like he couldn't believe his own eyes. He was early. At least half an hour too early.

"Bengt?" my mother said. For the first time since she got there, I saw her facial expression change slightly. Her eyes looked sad. "I didn't expect to see you here?"

"I invited him since you were going out," I said. "He usually comes here several times a week."

My father couldn't take his eyes off of my mother. "You look…You look really great Ulla. Emma did tell me you were in town, but I didn't expect to see you here…like this." His eyes then turned to glance at the handsome mailman. "Oh…You're…You're going out?"

My mother nodded. Arne held his hand out. "Arne," he said when my dad took it. "I…We were just…"

"Sure," my dad said, half choked. "Go have fun. By all means, have a great time."

Arne took my mom's hand and they started walking. My mother threw my dad a guilty look.

"See you later, Bengt."

"Yeah. Yes, of course. See you another time."

It was heartbreaking to watch. I put my arm around my dad's shoulder while we watched my mom and Arne take off in his small Toyota. Not exactly the kind of car my mother was used to.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," I said. "I thought they would be out of the house by the time you got here."

We walked back into the house.

"It's my own fault for being early. I know you told me your mother was going out. I just missed you guys so much I thought…well, I thought she had left long ago and I certainly didn't know that she was going out with someone. Well to be completely honest, maybe I was hoping to run into her. She looked really great, don't you think? Really great…"

I found a bottle of red wine on the counter when we entered the kitchen and opened it. I poured my dad a glass. "Here."

"Thanks, honey." He sipped it while I looked at him with my heart broken. I couldn't believe he had to see this. It was awful.

"Where are the kids?" he asked.

"Victor was just here. Maya got mad about her homework and is probably in her room, rolling her eyes at me."

"Well it's nice to know that some things stay the same."

I chuckled. "I guess so. Well, there are still twenty minutes till dinner if you want to go up and talk to them. They've missed you."

My dad got up from his chair. "I bet they have," he said with a forced smile. I could still see the hurt in his eyes.

He left and I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down at my computer. I called Morten to hear if we were still on for dinner and he told me he was on his way. I closed my document that I had tried to work on all day, but didn’t succeed in writing as much as a sentence. Then I went on Facebook and scrolled through my newsfeed. As usual…nothing new. I watched a video of cats hiding in funny places then another about dogs wearing hats, then decided it was a waste of my time and closed the tab. I noticed I had a few new e-mails and opened my mailbox to check what they were. Mostly spam, but there was one that made my heart stop.

No. No. Not again!

It was another one without a sender or subject. My hand started shaking as I moved the mouse and clicked to open it.

33

February 2014

D
EAR
E
MMA,
Y
OU DIDN'T
really think it was over, did you? I don't think you did. You did great on your first assignment, so now it’s time for your next. See the picture at the bottom of this e-mail? This shows a woman. She is in trouble and only you can save her. She has taken way too many pills and swallowed them with alcohol. Not good, right? I know. It's really bad. The mixture in her stomach will kill her if you don't find her as soon as possible. But where is she hiding, Emma? Where is she? It's time for another round of Hide and Go Seek.

I scrolled frantically down the e-mail and found the picture. Then, I gasped. It showed a badly-bruised woman who was lying on what looked like a wooden floor with her eyes closed. Next to her were five bottles of pills. All empty.

"Oh my God," I mumbled. "Oh my good God."

I picked up my phone and called Morten and a few minutes later he was standing in my kitchen.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and hugged me. "I was so sure it was over."

"Me too," I said, feeling the knot in my stomach grow. "What do we do?"

Morten pulled up a chair and sat next to me. He read the e-mail, then looked at the picture.

"It doesn't look like he has any demands like last time," I said.

"What are those attachments?" Morten asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see them until now," I said, and clicked on the first. "It looks like statistics."

"What kind of statistics?"

"Overdose. Like this one. It's a statistic from last year about mentally ill people who have died from an overdose of their medication."

"Okay, so like last time, he wants us to focus on something. He wants our attention," Morten said pensively.

"So we'll have to assume that the woman in the picture is another mentally ill person, right?" I asked.

"I think so," Morten said. "And he's made her take all of her medicine in order to bring focus on how often mentally ill patients die from overdoses."

I nodded and looked at the picture. It was hard to look at the woman, so I tried to focus on the details in her surroundings, instead. But it was difficult, since all we could see was the floor and the bottles. Behind her was something blue – it looked like a big heavy curtain, but that could be anywhere.

"Okay, so he's made his point…what do we do now?" I asked.

"I don't know," Morten said. "I mean, a drug overdose is fast. I'll call the station and get everybody working on finding her, but I'm not even sure they'll be able to in this short time.

I looked up at him. "We alert the media," I said. "That's what he wants. He wants everyone to talk about this problem, so we go out and tell it."