by Willow Rose
"I will," I said even though I had been the one to bring it every time, but also knew that it was fair since she was struggling financially.
"See you at nine."
21
1978
Christmas came and went so did New Years Eve for Astrid down in the bunker. By January her stomach had grown so big, she was out of breath from her daily exercise walking fifty times up and down the stairs and the little gymnastics she had taught herself to do on the cold concrete floor.
The radio had become her closest friend and helped her keep track of the days. Some days she would spent on the bench crying, others she felt strong and did whatever it took to keep living, to have some sort of decent life even given the circumstances. She would keep herself busy with washing her clothes, cleaning the toilet and reading the magazines given to her over and over again.
But what Astrid loved the most was to simply lie still on her back and feel the baby growing in her stomach. She would cry with joy as she felt it kick or move in there. Every now and then she was struck with fear and almost panic that the baby would never know anything other than this awful hole in the ground. She speculated a lot about the birth and what she was supposed to do and as the days passed on she grew increasingly anxious that something would happen to the baby, that it would die or get hurt while she was giving birth. Astrid didn't know anything about babies or births, but she had read a lot in her magazines that had been provided for her, since they were all about motherhood, pregnancy and giving birth. It calmed her a little to read the stories from all the women who had gone through it, but she couldn't help thinking that they all - unlike her - had someone to help them. Doctors, nurses, midwives. Astrid could wake up at night feeling contractions, but not knowing what it was, she would fear that the birth had started. She could even scream for help some nights fearing that she had to go through this all by herself.
"How?" she would ask into the room and hear the echo of her own voice as the only answer. "How am I supposed to do this?"
Astrid had always believed in God and she also believed he was there with her in that hole in the ground and she had a firm belief that he was going to help her go through this. If anyone could, it would be him. But she had her moments of doubts and they knocked her down like a hollow tree in a storm. There were days she would scream and yell at God for putting her through this, and those days were the worst. The doubt and the fear made everything so much worse for her. She had grown up knowing that God punished people for their sins and she was wondering what she had done to feel his wrath like this upon her life. Yet on the good days she put her trust in him and in the fact that he believed she would be able to cope with this trial, that she could do it.
"It's my punishment for having sex outside of marriage," she kept telling herself. "You make your bed and you lie in it. There are no tears that will get you out of this. You have to do it. It's what God wants you to do. It will cleanse you from your sin," she repeated over and over to herself. For some reason it helped her and made her stronger.
By the end of January the woman came again. Astrid had speculated like crazy about what she would do when she arrived with the next shipment of food and supplies. Oh how she had gone over it many times in her head. How she was going to throw herself at her and try to wrest the rifle out of her hand, or how she would use the flashlight, swing it at the lady and knock her out. But by the time she heard the sound of steps outside the door again Astrid was too heavy, too pregnant and way too tired to even get up from the bench. She heard the door open and cried when she saw the woman's face appear. She pointed that damn rifle at Astrid again.
"Stop crying, for Christ sake," she said when she saw Astrid. "No one feels sorry for you. You brought this upon yourself."
"Please just let me out now, won't you?" Astrid pleaded. "I'm pregnant and the baby will come any day now. I need to go to a hospital."
The woman with the rifle snorted. "I can't help you with that."
"But why? Why do I have to stay down here? I have learned my lesson. As God is my witness I have been punished enough."
"It's not about punishment," the woman said.
"Then what's it about? Why are you keeping me here?"
The woman pushed the supplies closer and left it inside the door for Astrid. "There you can do with it as you please. I have put diapers in there as well. For the baby, when it comes."
"Do you really expect me to go through childbirth down here all by myself?" she asked whimpering. "What if something happens to me or to the baby?"
The woman looked at her but didn't answer. "You'll find all you need in the supplies," she said instead, then turned as if to leave.
Astrid got up with much difficulty holding a hand to her sore back. "Please don't leave me," she said. "Don't leave so soon."
"I'm sorry. But it's the only way." The woman took one last look at Astrid, then slammed the door.
22
2012
I did it again. A couple of minutes later I could no longer resist. I had to check and see if this alleged murder on the Queen of Fitness had anything in common with the killing of Mrs. Heinrichsen.
It didn't take me long to realize it did. And not only by one or two things. It was literally everything that was in common. Like Mrs. Heinrichsen, Irene Justesen had been alive while her organs were removed. And like Mrs. Heinrichsen it was the lungs, the heart and the liver that had been cut out. According to the forensics the killer hadn't stuffed the sweat band into her throat until afterwards. I wondered why that was. Did he enjoy hearing her scream? It was the only logical explanation. I looked at a map of Irene Justesen's property and realized she could have screamed at the top of her lungs all night and still not a soul would have heard her. So that was probably why he had waited. He wanted her to feel pain. He wanted to hear her pain.
I shivered in disgust and tried not to imagine how much pain she must have been in for those hours while he removed her organs one buy one, before she finally bled to death.
I scrolled through the document and felt sick to my stomach as I watched the pictures. All that blood. But one thing kept me looking. One picture really drew my attention. On the wall of the gym, on one of the mirrors, the killer had written a number with Irene Justesen's blood. It was the number three.
I leaned back while my heart was pounding. Why three? The number on Mrs. Heinrichsen's wall had been four. What did those numbers mean?
I googled the Queen of Fitness and found that the story of her being killed had gone viral all over the Internet. All the major newspapers had it and on my Facebook newsfeed people were all writing about her and posting old clips from her show. I guess she all of a sudden became some sort of cult figure.
I read the articles in the papers and recognized Officer Dan who apparently had been the one they all interviewed. Probably because he was so handsome, I thought while chuckling. Or maybe more likely because he had been the first one on the scene of crime after the cleaning lady called the police. He looked great in the pictures. But what struck me was that none of the articles seemed to have all the info about the killing. No one mentioned the fact that her organs had been removed, no one spoke of the number on the wall and not a single one of them compared it to the killing a few months ago of Mrs. Heinrichsen on my street.
"That was odd," I said out loud and closed the computer. I walked downstairs to begin preparing dinner while speculating how come this information hadn't been anywhere. No one looked at the two cases and saw the connection. They all talked about her career, her many times in rehab and the fact that she had lost a child, a daughter who had run off at sixteen and never come home. They never even suggested that there could be a connection or that the police might work on the idea that there could be a connection. It was very strange.
"What are we having for dinner?" Maya asked as she walked into the kitchen.
I was still peeling potatoes and completely lost in my own trail of thoughts. "Hmm, what was that sweetheart?"
"I asked what are we having for dinner," she repeated.
"I'm making pork chops. I am going over to Sophia's later. Could you keep an eye on Victor?"
Maya make a grimace like she was annoyed. I tilted my head. "Please?"
She shrugged. "Okay. It's not like I have anything better to do anyway."
"So how are things at school? Have you gotten any friends?" I asked hoping to finally be able to take part of her life again. Victor was playing in the backyard and for once I had time to actually listen.
She shrugged again. "It's okay, I guess. I mean people are a little weird out here. Definitely not like they were in Copenhagen, but I guess I could get used to it ... eventually."
I smiled but tried not to show it. I found another potato and started peeling it. "Any boys that are of interest?"
"Actually there is a guy that's kind of cute ..."
Maya didn't get any further before she was interrupted by a scream coming from the backyard. I threw my peeler in the sink and stormed outside. My heart was pounding.
"Victor? Victor? Are you okay, buddy?"
The trees seemed to look at me with their dark eyes and branches reaching out ready to grab me. I never understood why Victor found them so fascinating. I thought they were really creepy.
"Victor?" I said again.
"Mommy?" he replied. I detected worry in his voice. He was afraid. Something had scared him out there.
"Victor? Where are you?"
"I'm down here. I can't get up. Help Mommy. Help."
Panic spread in my mind and body. My heart was racing. Where was he? Why couldn't he get up? Was he hurt?
He sounds fine. He's not crying. Calm down for crying out loud.
"Victor? Where is 'down here'? Are you all the way down by the water?" I asked thinking if he had gone all the way down to the end of the yard, he was in big trouble. He knew he wasn't supposed to go down there on his own.
"No, Mommy, I'm in between the trees. Next to the big birch."
The big birch, the big birch, what did a birch look like?
It's long thin branches dangling in the wind gave it away. I sighed relieved when I found it and ran towards the sound of Victor's voice. I spotted his face and ran faster. He was on the ground, but what was he lying on? Some sort of hatch in the ground?
"What happened here?" I asked and came closer. His foot looked all wrong.
"I fell, Mommy. I fell over this thing in the ground. My ankle hurts really bad, Mommy."
I looked at it and tried to move it. Victor moaned in pain. "Looks like a sprained ankle, buddy. We need to get you to bed, to give it a couple of days rest."
"I can't get up," he said with a strained face.
I kneeled in front of him. "Victor. I'll have to pick you up and carry you back in my arms. That means I have to touch you. Are you okay with that? Can I do that without you screaming?"
Victor thought about it for a few seconds. Then he nodded.
"Good," I said and reached my arms out. "I'm going to pick you up now and I want you to stay calm, alright?"
He nodded again with caution, like he was a little reluctant. I bent down and put my arms around him. I felt his body shivering, when I lifted him up. He was stiff as I carried him back towards the house.
"Sorry, Mommy. I was just running when I tripped over that thing in the ground."
"It's okay, buddy. Don't worry about it," I said and carried him inside. I put him on the couch and put a blanket over him. Then I leaned over and kissed his forehead, something I hadn't been able to do in a long time. I was surprised to notice that Victor didn't seem to mind. It was a small step, but felt like a huge one for me.
It filled me with hope.
23
2012
I left a little earlier than what I had planned with Sophia since I had something I wanted to do first. I put the bottle of wine in the car and drove down to the police station instead. I found officer Dan inside.
He smiled and got up from his chair.
"Doing the nightshift again?" I asked.
"Yup. I'm a night owl so it suits me just fine. I like to go to bed in the morning and sleep most of the day."
"Sounds like a vampire," I said with a laugh.
"I hear they are very popular these days," he said with a grin worthy of a vampire. "What can I do for you?"
"I was actually hoping you'd be here. Can we talk for a second?"
"Sure," he said and opened the door so I could get behind the counter where he was standing. "Let's go over here, where my desk is."
I sat down in a chair in front of him.
"Do you want some coffee or something?" he asked.
"No thank you," I said. "I won't stay long. I have somewhere else to be. I just wanted to get some answers to something that has been bothering me."
"Do you mind if I grab one? I have a long night ahead."
"No, by all means."
Officer Dan left and I heard him in the kitchen. He returned with a big steaming cup in his hand. He was still smiling. I could see his muscles underneath the light blue police-shirt. "There," he said and sat down with a sigh. "I'm all ears."
Officer Dan leaned over the desk towards me. "What did you want to know?"
"Well ... uh ..." I cleared my throat. "I'm writing this book ..."
"You're writing a book?" he said with great enthusiasm and drank from his cup. "That's really interesting. I didn't know we had an author living on the island. What's it about?"
"Well that's the thing. The book is going to be about Mrs. Heinrichsen and ... well the murder and ... now that we had a new one on the island, I thought I would come and ask for some details about the two killings."
Officer Dan sat up straight in the chair. He looked at me mischievously. "I see. You're here on professional business. I didn't realize that. I better be careful what I say then. Am I in the book?"
"I wasn't planning on it to be fiction," I said.
Officer Dan laughed. "Well maybe I can be the vampire in your next book, when you decide to write something people will actually read."
"Very funny."
Officer Dan grinned. "Okay, let's get serious," he said. "What did you need from me?"
"I was just wondering about the two cases. Do the police work with the theory that the two cases are connected?"
Officer Dan took in a deep breath. "Between you and me, yes we do."
"But that's not what you've told the newspapers."
"Not yet. No."
I lifted an eyebrow and looked at him. "You're lying to the press?"
"Well lying and lying. We're withholding some information. That's all. Don't look at me like that. It wasn't my idea."
I chuckled. "Of course not, but why? Why don't you tell them the entire story?"
Officer Dan exhaled. "Because they are afraid of panic. This town, well the entire island lives from tourism. We don't want people to think it is dangerous to come here. That's all."
I leaned back in my chair and looked at him. "But it will come out eventually. Then what?"
"Then we will hopefully have solved the case."
"Or you'll get a lot of unintentional publicity, and not of the good kind," I said. "I used to work as a reporter, and they don't like to be lied to. The police covering up a potential serial killer? Not a good headline."
Officer Dan shrugged again. "It's not a serial killer until there are more than three victims. And the other stuff is not my headache. As I said. I didn't come up with the idea."
"Then who did?"
Officer Dan shook his head and let out a resigned sound. "I don't know. I just follow orders. But a qualified guess is that it was the mayor and the chief of police."
24
1978
Astrid went into labor at night. It started with small contractions every now and then, then more forceful ones and finally the extreme pain that kept rolling in over her, making her think this was in fact going to kill her.
In the beginni
ng she tried to scream in a last desperate attempt to alarm the world that she was down there in this hole in the ground, in pain, in labor about to have a baby.
"HEEEELP!!" she screamed whenever she had the strength for it.
But no one came. Soon Astrid forgot her circumstances, her situation and surroundings and kind of went into a world of her own where only her and the extreme pain existed. When the water broke and soaked the entire bed, she knew there was no turning back now. This was it.
She moaned and whimpered and fought her way through every contraction, through every wave of pain and every now and then she wondered if this was even normal. If it was supposed to hurt this bad or if something had already gone wrong? Could contractions really kill you? Could it kill the baby?
Oh God, don't leave me here now. Don't leave me, please don't leave me now.
She tried to look at herself like Jesus on the cross. The pain as something cleansing, something that God inflicted upon her to cleanse her from her sin.
In the midst of it all she called out for her mother while crying. But all she heard was her mother's voice from the day she had told her she was pregnant.
How could you be so stupid? How could you do this to us, do this to me? I knew you would end up destroying my life one day. Now look at you. What were you thinking? Having sex outside of marriage? God will punish you for this, my child. Mark my words. God will punish you.
Astrid felt another contraction and tried to embrace the pain that followed. She didn't scream anymore, nor did she yell. All she did was let the pain take her and her body to where it wanted to go, knowing the pain wasn't something she was supposed to fight, if it was in fact God's wrath upon her, then she shouldn't fight it, she should let it do its work in her till it had cleansed her from all sin. Wave after wave rolled in over her and finally she felt an overwhelming pressure from inside and as she followed it, let it overtake her body, she suddenly felt something, felt something move between her legs. She looked down and realized the baby's head was peeking out. She whimpered and cried as she felt the last desire to press again and the baby slid right out of her and landed on the bed.
