Rebekka Franck Series Box Set vol 1-5

by Willow Rose

  "Mr. Fenger?"

  Henrik grinned and turned on his bar stool. "Rebekka Franck I assume?" He reached out his hand and she took it. Nice firm handshake. He liked that in a woman. Probably a feisty little one.

  "This is my photographer Sune Johansen," she said introducing the punk-guy behind her.

  "Hi," he said and reached out his hand.

  "Hello," Henrik said and shook his hand slightly, reluctantly wondering what kind of germs and following diseases this guy was going to give him. Henrik stared at the photographer's ring in the eyebrow. He wrinkled his nose. He never understood why people wanted rings all over the place that could get infected.

  "Let's go sit in the corner over there," Rebekka Franck said and pointed at some couches.

  "Can I get you anything to drink?" Henrik asked. He couldn't stop staring at the woman. She was beautiful, not in a traditional way, but there was just something about her, something alluring that made him want to screw her.

  "No, we just ate," Rebekka said.

  "Ah come on," Henrik said. "You look like someone who would enjoy a Chardonnay."

  "As a matter of fact, I'm more of a red wine person," she said.

  "Then let me buy you a glass of red wine," Henrik insisted. Before she could protest, he ordered one for her.

  "I'll just have a beer," the photographer said.

  He was already annoying Henrik and he was starting to wonder how he was going to get rid of him. Henrik moaned slightly in pain as he got up from his bar stool and walked towards the black leather couches in the corner.

  "Do you need a hand?" Rebekka Franck asked.

  "No." Henrik said a little too harshly. "I mean, I'm fine. Just the damn pain that won't go away."

  "From the surgery?" Sune the photographer asked.

  No from fucking all night. Yes of course it's from having my kidney removed you idiot!

  "It must have been quite painful?" Rebekka Franck asked.

  Henrik loathed the tone of pity in her voice. Yes, he was the victim, but no he didn't want to be treated like a cripple. He wanted her to see how handsome he was, how attractive he was. Henrik always had a way with the ladies.

  "It wasn't so bad," he said, trying hard to smile.

  "Oh my God," Rebekka Franck suddenly said and pointed at his white shirt.

  "What?"

  "I think you're bleeding," she said. "Is that blood on your shirt? There on the right side?"

  Henrik looked down. Her had taken a shower after killing Annabelle and put on new clothes so he hardly thought it could be hers, but suddenly he feared it was. "It's nothing," he said, and smiled.

  "Don't you think we should take you to the hospital?" Sune the photographer asked.

  He shook his head while imagining himself smashing the boy's face in with a clenched fist. "No it's nothing. I can hardly feel anything. The doctor said this might happen."

  They sat down on the couches and Henrik found a handkerchief in his pocket that he wiped his forehead with. He was sweating heavily now.

  "You don't look too well," Rebekka Franck said. "Maybe we should do this another day?"

  "No," Henrik said, annoyed with all the fussing. Yes, the doctor had told him to rest and stay calm, but how could he? How could he remain at peace with so many IDIOTS in this world?

  Henrik wiped his forehead again, then forced a smile and looked at Rebekka Franck. "Shall we begin?"

  30

  AUGUST 2012

  BILL DURGIN WAS SITTING in the bar with an iPad on the counter. The bartender had served up a beer while Bill was looking for the next lucky victim. Meanwhile, Bill was in the chat room, talking to one of the other artists.

  I'm sitting in the bar at the hotel now.

  Oh, the thrill of the chase, someone named Karl Persson answered. Bill had been chatting with him before. He was quite the lunatic, but very good at inspiring and giving good advice.

  Spotted your next victim yet? He asked.

  I have my eyes on several right now. Bill was looking up into the mirror behind the bartender, where observing the guests in the hotel without being seen was a lot easier. A guy at the end of the bar looked promising.

  Ah I love this part, Karl wrote. Scanning the room, knowing you hold the power of life and death in your hand, knowing you get to choose who will live to see tomorrow and who won't.

  Bill had to admit, it was enjoyable. Who could have ever guessed, but Thomas De Quincey had been right. After the first kill, the thought of the next one was much easier; it was almost thrilling. It provided the ultimate satisfaction to hurt these people. These people who deserved nothing better, who had it coming to them.

  Cheating bastards.

  A woman sat in the corner with a tall punk fellow and another man who had his back to Bill. They were talking; the punk fellow was taking pictures of the guy who had his back turned. Bill studied the woman and the punker. They didn't look like a couple. He was way younger than her. But they had dinner at the restaurant earlier in the night and seemed very comfortable, stealing looks and looking at each other like they weren't supposed to be together, like they were afraid to be caught. Bill could smell an affair from far away and those two had one. The tension in the air between them was electrifying. There was no doubt. They smelled of deceit.

  I have my eye on two right now. I might do them both this time.

  You go for it. A double kill is very rare. Did one back in '89. I can still remember the thrill. I live to relive it.

  Bill chuckled and drank the beer. A man entered the bar and sat two stools down from Bill. He smiled and nodded. Bill smiled back.

  "How's the beer?" The man asked.

  "To die for," Bill answered.

  The man laughed awkwardly. Bill turned to look at the couple again. The punker was laughing, looking at the woman who apparently had said something funny. A chill ran down Bill’s spine. It was disgusting. The way they looked at each other was repulsive.

  What about your husband at home, little lady? The young boy didn't look like he was married with children, but the woman probably was. She looked like it. It was in her eyes, her entire body was smeared in it. The way she looked at the boy when she talked and then looked down quickly afterwards made her look guilty. Tormented by it.

  So have you chosen? Karl asked.

  I think I have.

  When will you strike?

  At midnight when they're all asleep. They'll never know what hit them. It'll be a night of terror. A punishment to fit the crime.

  You're evil.

  The woman laughed again. The hair rose on the back of Bill's neck. The falseness, the dishonesty to her voice was creepy. A woman like her deserved to die.

  31

  AUGUST 2012

  I LAUGHED AWKWARDLY AT my own joke. The whole situation was a little strange and felt clumsy. Sune and I tried hard to lighten the atmosphere a little, but with no luck. Henrik Fenger was a strange man who seemed to be in way too much pain to be sitting here when he should be in a hospital. He was sweating heavily and he seemed to be bleeding too. I didn't quite know what to say to him, but I really thought he should go to the hospital.

  As we spoke and he told his story, he kept groaning and moaning in pain. Then he found some pills in his jacket and swallowed a couple, flushing them down with beer. I asked him several times if we should drive him to the nearest hospital, but he refused. It felt highly uncomfortable for both me and Sune, but the man had, after all, the right to decide not to go. It was a very strange situation and an even weirder interview. The man seemed so uncomfortable and, every now and then, he would yell at me and hit his fist on the table holding our drinks. I started wondering if he was really well. Not just physically. He seemed to have a huge amount of anger trapped inside of him. It made him a little scary.

  "So how did you feel when you heard about the second case in Hasle?" I asked.

  Henrik Fenger froze in the middle of drinking. He put the glass down very hard on the table. "The what?" He asked
.

  I looked at Sune, then back at Henrik Fenger. "You didn't hear about the man who was killed at a hotel in Hasle?"

  Henrik Fenger looked confused. "What?"

  "It was very similar to your story, except he didn't survive," I continued. "His liver was removed and he died overnight. The cleaning lady found him covered in ice just like you were."

  "But …" Henrik Fenger stared at me like there was something really wrong with me. "You say he died?"

  I nodded and drank from my wine. I looked up at the bar. It was strange. I kept having the feeling that someone was watching me. Maybe it was just the entire situation that made me a little paranoid. It was stupid, really, but the thought of having to spend the night in a hotel scared me a little. I couldn't help thinking: what if I wake up covered in ice? What if they take one of my organs?

  I shook my head. No it was ridiculous. There were so many hotels. To have the organ thieves strike right at the one I was staying in was hardly realistic. Or was it? I felt a chill and looked up at the bar behind Henrik Fenger again. Was someone observing me?

  I looked at Henrik Fenger again. He seemed to be getting worse. He was sweating heavily and panting. He was still staring at me. I tried to smile.

  "Anyway, that's all I know," I said.

  "What do the police say?" Henrik Fenger asked. His voice was shrill.

  "Apparently, he was with some girl on the night it happened. They have her in custody now."

  Henrik Fenger looked like he was choking. He put his beer down. "She's WHAT?" He said yelling the last word with a shrill voice.

  "She's been taken into police custody to be interrogated. But I spoke to one of the officers when I was in my room earlier and he told me they will be letting her go in the morning. She doesn't know anything, he told me."

  Henrik Fenger's right eye started blinking and he was moving his head in a weird way reminding me of the pigeons I used to feed with Julie in the center of Copenhagen when she was younger.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" Sune asked.

  Henrik Fenger grinned. "Yes. Yes. I'm okay. Why shouldn't I be? Huh? Tell me WHY? Because someone stole my kidney? Because my wife won't answer my calls? Huh? Is that it? Because I'm sitting here with two MORONS who don't understand ANTYHING? Because the whole damn world has gone MAD overnight?"

  I turned to face Sune and our eyes met. He made a grimace. I fought hard not to laugh. I got up and reached out my hand.

  "I think we have what we came for. Thank you so much, Mr. Fenger for taking time to meet with us."

  I shook his hand and Henrik Fenger grumbled something as Sune and I hurried to get away from him. As we left the bar, I couldn't let go of the feeling that someone was still watching my every move, so I turned and looked. I met a set of eyes in the mirror behind the bartender. They seemed friendly, so I smiled. The eyes smiled back.

  32

  SEPTEMBER 2001

  "COULD YOU AT LEAST tell me why?"

  Anna's voice was shivering as she spoke. Michael was packing a suitcase, throwing shirts and pants randomly into it. He hadn't spoken a word since he had told her he was leaving and Anna felt both frustrated and confused. She wanted to grab on to him and shake him. But she had felt that for a long time. She simply didn't understand how he could be so cruel … the same man she had loved and wanted to spend her life with.

  "Please, Michael. Don't do this to us," she pleaded desperately. She kept wondering what she could say or do to make him stay.

  But Michael didn't even look at her as he packed his stuff. It was like he couldn't get out of the house fast enough, like he couldn't get out of their lives fast enough.

  "Michael you have a son, for Christ sake!" She yelled, when he closed the suitcase and lifted it up. "You have a responsibility. You made a vow to me once. You have a family."

  Finally Michael looked at her. Anna's heart was beating so fast now. She wanted to punch him, hug him, and hold on to him all at the same time. She didn't do any of those things. Instead, she just stared at him with a feeling of utter desperation exploding inside of her.

  "He was never my son, you know that," Michael said. "He was a mistake from the beginning."

  Anna clenched her fist and smashed it as hard as she could into his face. Michael let out a scream and flew backwards. Michael's nose was bleeding when he looked at her again. He wiped the blood off with his hand.

  "I have a new family now," he said. "A real one."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean? How can you have a new family?" Anna asked, confused.

  Michael looked into her eyes. "If you must know, I've had another family for a number of years now. I am with them when I'm not here."

  Anna's heart dropped. She had to hold on to the frame of the door to not fall. She couldn't believe what he was telling her. It was like a bad dream, a nightmare that wouldn't end.

  "What do you mean you have another family? I don't understand? How?"

  "Well, it's been going fine until last week when she found out about you and Valdemar. She asked me to choose between the two of you. And I chose her. Her and … Patrick."

  Anna stumbled backwards. Patrick? Not only did he have another woman but also another son? "Patrick?" She said with a shaking voice. "Is that …?"

  Michael looked at her with such coldness and cruelty she could no longer understand how she could have loved him.

  "He is my son," Michael said.

  Anna heard something and turned her head to see Valdemar standing right next to them. His eyes were filled with tears. Anna realized he must have heard the entire discussion between her and Michael.

  "Mommy?" He said. "Who … Who is Patrick?"

  For the first time since Valdemar was born, Michael looked directly into his eyes and spoke:

  "He's my real son."

  Then he lifted up the suitcase and stormed past the boy. Anna's entire body was shaking when she ran to grab Valdemar in her arms. She lifted him up and held him close to her body. For days after this, Valdemar never spoke a word. He didn't ride his bike nor did he go into the garage for a long, long time.

  33

  AUGUST 2012

  SUNE AND I COULDN'T stop laughing. We had gone back to Sune's hotel room, room 237 and were going through the interview and pictures together.

  "Can you believe that guy?" Sune asked.

  "I don't think I can," I said, chuckling.

  We grabbed a couple of beers from the minibar while we worked. "Look at this one," Sune said and showed me a picture he had taken of Henrik Fenger while he spoke. "The guy looks like he is about to explode."

  "Did you see the tic, he had?" I said.

  "And what was with the yelling of certain words?" Sune said.

  "It's actually not funny," I said, still laughing.

  "I know. It's really sad. The guy seemed to have some serious anger management issues."

  "I tried not to laugh, but it was hard. There was just something about the guy that was so comical, I couldn't help it. I have always felt that way with angry people. I never could take them seriously. I hope I wasn't inappropriate," I said and opened my laptop.

  "You were fine. He liked you. It was me he couldn't stand," Sune said. "He kept staring at the ring in my eyebrow like he wanted to rip it out. I think I was the one provoking him. My appearance does that to people from time to time. If I had a penny for every time an old lady tried to beat me with her cane because she thought I was going to rob her or something … well I'd have a lot of pennies."

  "You do look pretty provoking," I said with a grin. I opened a Word document and started typing my article. I felt Sune's eyes on me. I didn't turn to look at him. The air between us had been strange and almost tense all night. I fought the urge to kiss him like nothing I had ever fought in my life.

  "Well, you always look great," Sune said. "I think the guy wanted to be alone with you. That's why he resented me so much. He wanted me out of the way so he could make a pass at you."

  I laughed. "You'v
e got to be kidding me. The man was in so much pain. He is sick. And I don't just mean physically. There was something really wrong with him. He was kind of creepy, really."

  Sune uploaded his pictures while I wrote my article, trying hard to be as nice to the guy as possible and present him like a sane person. When I was done, I sent it to my editor and looked at Sune. He was looking at me too. I didn't like the look in his eyes and looked away.

  "So I guess that's it, huh?" I said and closed the lid of my laptop.

  Sune picked up his camera and was looking at me through the lens. I could tell he was zooming in on me. Then he took a series of pictures.

  "Stop it," I said. "I look terrible."

  "I don't think so," Sune said, then took a series more. He got up from his chair and started moving around while taking more pictures of me.

  "Sune. You know I don't like to be photographed."

  I lied. The fact was, I really liked it when he took pictures of me. I liked when he was watching me, looking at me through the lens of the camera, studying me. My heart was beating faster as he came closer. He lowered the camera and looked me into my eyes. Then he leaned over and kissed me.

  The kiss felt incredible. Like an explosion on my lips. It didn't feel like I was cheating on Peter. It felt so right and that made it so difficult.

  "Stay with me tonight," Sune whispered once our lips parted.

  I exhaled, then kissed him again. I fought the urge, but in vain. I kissed him again and again, then held him in my arms and felt like crying. It was like my body had missed this, missed being close to his. It was like I was depriving my body of something vital when I wasn't with him.