Peek A Boo I See You (Emma Frost #5) (15 page)

Morten parked the car in the middle of the street downtown and we jumped out.

Morten stopped. He looked at me.

"There are three souvenir shops on this street. Which one do we pick?"

I scanned the many small souvenir shops. They all looked alike. Except for one. I pointed at it.

"We pick the one where the light is turned on inside. Come on."

41

February 2014

A
NDERS
S
AMUELSEN WAS GETTING
ready. He looked at himself in the mirror and lifted his head in pride. It was the first time he was wearing the Shinobi Shozoko, the traditional ninja uniform, since he bought it online five years ago. Until now, it had been hanging on the wall in his bedroom next to the Katana, the Japanese sword that he was now taking down for the first time in years as well. He pulled it carefully out of its scabbard and looked at it. It was long and slim, but very, very sharp. He touched it gently with his finger and cut a little skin off.

"Perfect," he said from underneath the black uniform that was covering his mouth. Actually, it was covering all of his body except for a small slit around his eyes and hands.

Anders looked down at his Tabi boots with the slit between the big toe and the second toe.

"Made to make it easier to climb ropes and scale walls," he said satisfied, while studying them. It was truly a remarkable outfit. Perfect for his purpose.

Anders had studied ninjas for years and years from his computer while being imprisoned by his fears, dreaming about one day becoming as forceful and ferocious as them. For years he had admired these soldiers, but never dared to become one himself. Now the time had come for him to get out of his shell. For years, he had been hiding like a coward in this house, hiding from his true purpose and destiny.

Anders stood in front of the mirror in the hallway holding his sword up in front of him, then he pretended to be using it in a fight. He killed the imaginary enemy, then smiled at his own reflection.

"Brilliant," he said. "Simply brilliant."

For years, the fear and medicine had held Anders back. Now it was time for him to shine. He was no longer afraid of anything. He had faced his worst fears and so should the rest of the world. No one in this world should ever have to be afraid again.

Anders was going to make sure of that.

He opened the front door and walked out into the snow, not letting the cold get to him, even if it was biting at his fingers.

Silent and secretively, he rushed into the black night, disappearing like the wind. He ran across the street, found a sidewalk, ran up the hill and down towards town.

 He was panting heavily and his knees were freezing when he reached center of town. He wasn't in as good of shape as he would like to be. He passed several small houses and looked in the windows, where people were sitting in their cozy living rooms, watching TV or sitting around the dinning table and chatting. Anders stared at them, then moved on. He was looking for the right person. He ran towards another house and looked inside. He spotted a woman sitting in a chair in front of the TV. She seemed to be alone.

"Perfect," Anders mumbled, staying in position for ten minutes more to make sure she really was alone. When no other person showed up in the room, Anders assumed she was, in fact, all alone, and got himself ready to make his move. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes to reach a state of complete calmness. Then he pulled out the sword from the scabbard attached to his back, ran towards the front door and gave it a kick to make it jump open. With a high-pitched scream he sprang inside the house and ran to the living room, making all the sounds he had heard ninjas make in the many movies he had watched.

The woman in the chair screamed with fear. Anders swung the sword in the air, then yelled:

"Fear not, lady. Never fear again. I'm here to free you from your fears and anxiety. They're holding you back! They're the ones keeping you from living your life. I will make you free. I am
the Deliverer
!"

The woman didn't seem to listen much to his words. She still stared at him with deep anxiety in her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs. Anders knew exactly how she felt at that moment. He himself had felt it down in that coffin buried underground. It was the certainty that this was her last moment alive; it was knowing that this was it.

She was exactly in the place Anders wanted her to be in. It was perfect. Now, all he had to do was to show her that there was absolutely no reason to fear death. It was nothing to be afraid of. But the only way she could really fully understand that, was if she actually died and came back. Just like he had.

He wanted her to experience the peace he had felt and he wanted her to come back and look at the world with the same newfound courage and wonder that he had.

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. "Please don't."

Anders tilted his head and looked at her. Then he swung the sword towards her with the words:

"I'm sorry. But this is a necessary part of the process. You will thank me later."

Anders pierced sword into the woman's stomach and blood started gushing out. Then he pulled the sword back out again. She stared at him with wide open eyes. With her hand, she felt the blood.

Anders saw how life slowly oozed out of her eyes, as they rolled back in her head and she fell out of the chair and onto the ground. Then he smiled, picked up her phone holding it with a small handkerchief he had brought with him.

"I need an ambulance to Valdemarsvej. Yes its number 43. It's serious, yes, very. A woman has been stabbed. You need to hurry."

Then he hung up, turned on his heel and looked at the woman whose lifeless body was crumbling on the floor. He couldn't stop smiling. He walked closer, then bowed elegantly.

"You're very welcome."

42

February 2014

M
ORTEN WALKED IN FRONT
of me with his gun held up. We reached the front door of the shop and he pulled the handle.

"It's open," he whispered. "You better stand back. If the killer is in there, he might be armed."

"Sure," I said, stopping while Morten continued inside. I heard him gasp.

"Morten?"

"I'm alright."

"Can I come in?"

"I don't know if it’s such a good idea," Morten said. "It's pretty bad in here. Call for an ambulance will you?"

I fumbled to find my phone then called the alarm central. "They say the island's only ambulance is already on its way to another incident in town. Is it a life-threatening situation?"

Morten groaned. "I guess not. I'm pretty sure she's already dead."

My heart stopped. "Is it Dagmar?"

"No. This one is much older."

I didn't care what Morten had said, I walked inside the shop with the phone still to my ear. Then I gasped as well. Morten was standing in the middle of the room next to the body of a woman who had been strung up by her legs, hanging upside down, the head, decapitated, lying on the floor beneath her.

I felt nauseated and covered my eyes. "She's definitely dead. Just send an ambulance when you can," I said and hung up.

"She's been dead for a long time," Morten said. "There is no blood anywhere."

"Who is she?" I asked, when I dared to look again and removed my hand. "I mean was?"

"Her name is Marianne Moeller," Morten said. "She owns the shop. I’ve been down here on more than one occasion when she called for us to help throw out troublesome Eastern European tourists that she caught stealing."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't understand. Why did she have to die?"

"Still looking for meaning to it all?" Morten asked.

I shrugged. Then I heard a sound. "What was that?" I asked.

Morten pulled his gun again.

"Sounds like it came from that closet right there," I said and pointed and an old wooden armoire leaning against the wall.

"Stand back," Morten said and tried to pull it open. "It's locked."

I put a hand in my pocket and pulled out the keychain that Ole had in his shirt pocket.

"Maybe this will fit?"

"Try it."

My hands were shaking while I put the key in the hole and turned it. As I opened the closet, a body fell out and landed on the floor with a thud. I screamed and looked down at it.

It was Dagmar.

There was no doubt. I recognized her from the picture. Morten bent down and felt for a pulse.

"She's still alive. Heavily sedated, but alive."

I kneeled next to her. "Dagmar? Can you hear us?" I looked up at Morten. "We need to get this stuff out of her. Would you help me?"

Morten nodded.

"Grab her body and help her up."

Morten helped me get her to stand upright. "She's heavy."

"I know, but just hold her for a few minutes."

Dagmar moaned.

"What are you planning on doing?"

"It's gonna take a while for the ambulance to get here and be able to pump her stomach. We need to get those pills out now. I have to make her throw up."

I had tried this once before with Maya when she was younger and had swallowed a pack of my birth control pills, thinking they were candy. So, just like the last time, I simply stuck a finger down the woman's throat and let it stay until she started gagging. A few seconds later, she threw up all over the floor.

43

February 2014

T
HAT NIGHT,
M
ORTEN AND
I both had trouble sleeping. He was tossing and turning, while I was mostly staring at the ceiling where the moonlight from outside lit it up. It had cleared up and finally stopped snowing and the full moon was shining brightly outside, making it even harder for me to sleep with all the light.

I kept thinking about Dagmar and Marianne Moeller in the shop. I was happy that we had been able to save Dagmar, but sad that Marianne had to die. It was terrible. Furthermore, the paramedics told me that there had been another murder attempt downtown on the same night. A woman had been stabbed in her own living room and they weren't sure she would survive.

What the heck was going on in this town? Was the killer just killing randomly now? Where was the silver lining in all these killings? Maybe there wasn't any. Maybe he was just crazy; maybe he was just mentally ill.

Oh my God, Victor. What am I supposed to do about Victor?

Well, I guess I had to see if we could get a social worker from City Hall to take care of our case. I had no idea where else to turn. The situation wasn't sustainable for him right now. He was allowed in school, but they wanted me to find another solution as soon as possible.

I managed to finally fall asleep an hour before the alarm clock sounded, then tumbled out of bed and walked downstairs to prepare breakfast. My dad was sitting in the kitchen when I walked in. I had completely forgotten about him.

"Good morning, sweetie," he said, looking up from his paper.

"Dad? You're still here?" I asked, worried that he would run into my mother again. Then I wondered where she was, if she had even come home last night after her date.

"Yes. When you didn't come back and it was after midnight, I took one of the guestrooms."

"Of course," I said. "I had completely forgotten you were here. Thank you so much for being in the house with the kids while I was gone."

"No problem, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy spending time with those munchkins."

I laughed and kissed his forehead. "Yes, I know. But thanks anyway." I found some sliced bread and toasted it. Then I poured some cereal in a bowl for Victor. "So Mom didn't come home before midnight either, huh?"

My dad looked down at his paper. His eyes avoided mine when he spoke. "No. I guess she didn't."

I found orange juice, cheese, and butter in the refrigerator and put them on the table. I put a piece of bread on a plate and handed it to my dad. "Here."

"You sure you don't want me to leave right away?" he asked. "It could get awkward."

"I know, but you were here first. As a matter of fact, you’re the only one who has always been here for us. So, at least let me treat you to a decent breakfast. Only leave if you're uncomfortable with the situation. I'll make some coffee."

"Thanks, sweetie. I don't want to cause any trouble, you know."

"I do know. But you're not the one causing trouble, if you know what I mean," I said, as I poured water in the coffeemaker.

My dad smiled, then continued to read the paper. I looked at the front cover, then stopped.

"What the…?" I leaned over and grabbed the paper out of my dad's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"What's this?" I asked, pointing at the front cover.

My dad shrugged.

"You've got to be kidding me!
The Caring Killer
?"

"That's what they call him, yes. They think he cares about the mentally ill or something. He kills with a purpose, they say. Almost makes him a hero, doesn't it? There is an article in here about how he helped save Hummelgaarden and how he now wants us all to focus on drugs for the mentally ill. How the drugs are not controlled and, therefore, many die because they can't control it themselves. The paper is filled with stories like this. They found lots of family members to tell their stories. It's actually filling the entire paper. There's a nice portrait of Hummelgaarden as well, telling about all they have accomplished up there…how many kids they’ve helped. Like this guy for instance," my dad said and took the paper from my hands. He flipped a couple of pages and showed me the picture of a young boy.

"This boy kept getting himself in trouble because he was so aggressive. Ever since he moved to Hummelgaarden, his grades have improved and he is no longer fighting everybody."

"Well, that's great, but still…come on, the man kills people to get his message out. Calling him something as stupid as The Caring Killer and making a hero out of him is really bad."