by Willow Rose
"I think he's about to explode, but I could be wrong," I said.
After talking to him, Morten had agreed. The man couldn't be sent off to work like that. He hadn't stayed with us all the time since he had a wife at his house that he cared for, so he had gone back there and made sure she had something to eat before he returned.
"So, how do you think he died?" I asked and looked at Sven Thomsen, as I had learned the dead man's name was, or had been.
"Looks like old age, maybe a heart attack," he said.
"Will you have him autopsied?" I asked.
Morten shook his head. "Depends on what Dr. Williamsen says, but I hardly see any reason to. He was old."
"In his sixties. That’s hardly old, I argued.
"True," Morten said. "It could have been his heart. Maybe the doctor will know."
I gave him a look, and he sighed. "No, Emma, I don't think it has anything to do with what happened to Ann Mortensen."
"You had her autopsied. Why not this guy?"
"It was her husband that requested it," he said. "I agreed because I thought it might give him peace of mind to know how she died."
"You think he killed her?" I asked. "Her husband? You think he drowned her, then pulled her back to her bed to make it look like she just died in her sleep?"
"And then requested an autopsy? Kind of sounds like a weird way to try and get away with murder, but I know that the detectives from the mainland who are looking into it have had him in for questioning. It just doesn’t really make sense."
"True." I looked at the puddle on the floor. Morten saw me do it.
"I know what you're thinking," he said.
"Were Ann Mortensen's clothes wet?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
I felt Sven Thomsen's shirt. "Same here. It's black so you can't see it, but it's soaked. And there’s water on the floor right next to him. Just like at Ann Mortensen's house."
Morten sighed. "I don't even want to know how you know that, but please leave the police work to the professionals, okay?"
I forced a smile. "Okay."
30
They forgot the time. Maya and Alexander stayed in Maya's kitchen for hours while talking and completely forgot to go to school. Maya sipped her tea while listening to Alex tell her about his family and his younger brother who took up so much of his parents' time, no one ever looked at what Alex did. And that was when it occurred to Maya that she had misjudged Alex from the beginning. He wasn't shallow. He wasn't just a pretty face. He was actually pleasant to be with and amazing to talk to. She had never talked to a guy and felt so comfortable before. Not with Samuel, not even with Asgar, who had been her close friend.
"More tea?" she asked.
Alexander nodded and gave her his cup. As he did, their fingertips brushed, and Maya blushed. She turned away.
"I…I think…you want some milk in that?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yes, please."
She served him another cup, then sat down, her eyes avoiding his. She had promised herself never to fall for this guy, but it was getting increasingly harder not to. His glance caught hers and held onto it. It made her stomach burst with butterflies.
Oh, girl. You're in trouble now!
"I’m really enjoying this," he said. "Us two here. Talking like this." He sighed and leaned forward.
Maya exhaled.
"I want to know everything about you, Maya," he said with a low raspy voice. "I want to know all about your family. Who are you? Who is Maya Frost?"
Maya stared into his eyes while contemplating what to do or say next. His soft eyes were piercing hers, and she felt her hands get clammy.
Say something!
But she couldn't. She didn't dare to tell him about herself. So far, they had talked about him and his family, and he had told stories of their vacations in Italy and his soccer team and how he was awarded player of the year last year, but she had told him nothing. How could she? How could she tell him about her brother and his strange friend? Her family was so weird while Alex's was so normal.
He can never know.
Fearing he would end up telling people at the school or just plain laughing at her, she decided to play it safe.
"There really isn't much to tell. We're pretty normal, boring really."
"Well, your mom isn't exactly boring," he said. "She's pretty cool if you ask me."
"The media doesn't seem to think so lately," Maya said.
She had seen the posts on Facebook and even read some of the articles in the newspapers that people shared, but she had decided never to tell her mother. It would only crush her. She didn't need to know.
"What are you talking about? What she did only makes her even cooler, if you ask me."
Maya smiled. Alex grabbed her hand in his. "I don't think you're boring, Maya Frost. Not even a little bit."
Then he leaned across the table, almost knocking his teacup over, closing his eyes, his lips pursed. Maya sucked air in through her teeth, then closed her eyes too and let him. In the second his lips were supposed to hit hers, she heard the front door slam shut, followed by her mother's voice, yelling:
"What the heck is going on here?"
31
"Why aren't you in school?"
I placed both my hands on my hips as the two teenagers stared at me, eyes wide, cheeks blushing. There was no doubt I had walked in at the exact right moment.
"Maya?" I asked.
"I…we…we…"
"It's my fault, Mrs. Frost," the boy said. I knew I had seen him before, but I didn't know his name.
"And who might you be?" I asked.
The boy rose to his feet and approached me. I don't think his face could have been redder had he just gotten out of a hot sauna. He reached out his hand.
"I'm Alexander, Mrs. Frost."
"It's Miss Frost," I said. "I'm divorced."
"Sorry, Miss Frost."
"So, it's your fault, huh? Care to explain?" I asked.
The two teenagers exchanged a look. Alexander rubbed his hands together. "I came to walk Maya to school and then…well, she had overslept and …"
"You overslept? Maya!" I said.
She rose to her feet. "Hey, I made sure Victor got to school."
"Without his shoes! They called from the school and said he arrived with soaked socks. How could you send him to school with no shoes?" I asked.
Maya scoffed. "Well, maybe if he wasn't so stupid as to walk outside without them. He's twelve, Mom. He should be able to remember his own darn shoes. I didn't realize it till the bus had left. It wasn't my fault, Mom."
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I didn't succeed. I couldn't believe how careless my daughter suddenly was.
"I can't believe you. I’m not here for a few hours, and everything falls apart. You didn’t even make it out the door? What were you thinking?"
Maya stared at me and crossed her arms in front of her chest with a groan. "I’m not going to listen to this," she said, grabbed her backpack, and looked at Alexander. "Come. We have to get to school."
"Oh, now you wanna go to school, huh?" I yelled after them. "Tell me what would have happened if I hadn't walked in at this moment, huh?"
I didn't expect an answer, and I didn't get one. They had both rushed out of the door and slammed it behind them. I sighed profoundly, then sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing my forehead. I grabbed one of the cookies the teenagers had brought out but not even touched.
Probably busy with all the kissing, I thought to myself, tired. Instead of going to school, puh. I can't believe she would do that.
I didn't mind Maya having a boyfriend; she was, after all, seventeen. No, that wasn't why I was upset. I was angry because she let it affect her school and because she hadn't told me anything about this boy before. I didn't even know his name, and here they were…kissing? In my kitchen? I thought she told me everything, and now this? A strange boy all over my daughter? In my own house?
I shook my head
and put my feet up on the chair next to me, while Kenneth attacked a stuffed animal that Sophia's youngest, Alma, had left the last time she was here. I stared at the dog for a little while, not bothering to scold him again until my phone rang. I picked it up once I saw Morten's name on my display.
"Hey. You miss me already?"
"Ha-ha, very funny. I am actually pretty stressed out right now. I’m trying to get ahold of Sven Thomsen's family in Copenhagen to tell them the bad news. But I did have time to check out the thing you asked me to yesterday."
I sat up straight. "The statement?"
"Yes, there isn't one. They never questioned Laila Lund, according to the report."
"Why not?" I asked, reaching out for another cookie. I was careful not to crunch loudly, so Morten wouldn't hear it. There was no reason for him to know I was eating cookies.
"Well, apparently, she made no sense. The day after John Andersen's disappearance, she was admitted to Fishy Pines by her family. For treatment in the very institution where she worked. When they closed the adult department shortly after since the building was falling apart, she was transferred to Lakeview Mental Institution in Sonderho. She might still be there."
32
Hanne Carlsen yawned for the third time in a row. Her co-worker turned to look at her with a smile.
"Too much partying?" he asked.
"Very funny," Hanne said and grabbed the report her co-worker handed her, then walked back to her computer and sat down. She punched in the numbers, then felt another yawn come along and caved into it. She stared at the flickering computer screen, her eyelids feeling heavier than ever.
She sipped from the coffee cup that stood next to her and realized it was her fourth today. She'd have to cut back soon, but she was just so darn tired all the time.
All because of that stupid leak.
It had kept her awake two nights in a row. The dripping in her bathroom. She had thought it was just the faucet and tried to tighten it better the night before, but still the dripping returned last night. This morning, she had called a plumber, and her husband had stayed home to let him in. Hopefully, they would find out what it was, so she would get a better night's sleep tonight.
If only he can find the leak.
Hanne hadn't been able to figure out exactly where the leak was. But a leak there was; she had no doubt in her mind. She could hear it, and she had even found a puddle of water on the bathroom floor in the morning. Her husband, Per, kept telling her she was crazy because every time she convinced him to go look for it, there was no dripping sound. He had never heard it. Still, Hanne knew it was there.
"Can you bring me the results from last week’s tests?" Hanne asked a co-worker sitting behind her.
He handed the file to her.
"Thanks."
She opened the folder and looked at the numbers, then rubbed her forehead. "We're really making progress on this one," she said.
"Sure are," the co-worker said from behind her.
Hanne smiled and sipped her coffee, hoping for the caffeine to kick in soon. Being tired and not fully alert wasn't good in her line of work.
"Any news of subject B-3?" she asked.
The co-worker shook his head. "Nope."
"Dang it. I can't believe we actually lost a subject. That was years of hard work."
"I know," he said. "My guess is there will be more heads rolling soon."
"As there should be." They had fired only one after it happened, but several others were just as responsible, in her opinion.
Hanne grabbed the folder from the cabinet of subject B-3 and looked through it. The pictures of the girl levitating above ground had been taken right before she ran away. Corporate had decided to tone the disappearance down and not report it to the police. They didn't want any media attention and had to find the subject on their own, was the message. Hanne didn't know how the search was going, but she knew they were out there looking for her, going through the entire island. She pitied the fools standing in their way. These guys were no joke.
Finishing her coffee, Hanne felt the urge to rush to the bathroom, which wasn't so strange after four cups of coffee. She left the file on her desk, then hurried to the bathroom, went inside a stall, and closed the door. She yawned a few times more while sitting in there and while thinking about the girl they had lost. She had been testing her for years and had come really far in cracking her genetic code, and then, just like that—puff—she was gone.
Those who were responsible deserve to get fired over this, she thought to herself. You don't just lose a subject worth millions in research. Tsk.
Hanne drew in a deep breath when a noise coming from outside her stall made her freeze.
It was the sound of water leaking.
33
She was still there. The nice personnel at Lakeview Mental Hospital told me over the phone that Laila Lund had been a patient there since nineteen eighty-two and very rarely had visitors, and if I would like to come and see her, it would be very much appreciated.
So, I did. I drove to the southern part of the island, to Sonderho, and parked the car outside in the parking lot. It was a gorgeous old building from eighteen-hundred and ten that housed the hospital.
"Used to be a hotel," the nurse who showed me to Laila Lund's room explained. "One of the most beautiful and popular in the country, as a matter of fact. But then the owner died, and the state bought it to house patients. We believe the nice surroundings are good for them. Therapeutic. The backyard grows to be stunning in the spring. You should come out and see it."
"Well, maybe I will," I said as we reached a door and the nurse stopped. She sighed and looked at me.
"Mrs. Lund doesn't make much sense. You'll have to bear with her, all right?"
"Of course. What happened to her?" I asked. "Do you know?"
She shook her head. "Not really. Someone once mentioned that she had a shock of some sort. That tricked it. You know, a trauma of sorts. But she has never been able to tell anyone exactly what it was."
"I see," I said.
The nurse knocked on the door and opened it. "Hi there, Mrs. Lund," she said, her voice almost singing. "You have a visitor today. A famous one. The great author Emma Frost is here to see you; maybe she'll sign a book for you before she leaves, huh?"
I blushed slightly. "Sure."
"Awesome. I'll leave you two to it, then," the nurse said with a big smile, then left.
Laila Lund was sitting in a wheelchair looking out the window, her back turned to me. I approached her.
"Hi there. As the nurse said, my name is Emma Frost. And I’m here because I’m writing a book about…well, I don't really know what it’s about yet, but a part of it is about the disappearance of a plumber…"
I looked down at Laila Lund, who wasn't looking out the window as I had assumed, but instead sat in her chair, staring emptily into the air, a smile plastered on her face, giggling like someone had said something funny. Drool was running out of the side of her mouth. I sighed and grabbed a chair, then sat down. I wasn't quite sure what I expected to find here. I just knew I needed answers.
"So, Laila," I said. "Can you tell me anything about John Andersen and what happened to him? I think you might have been the last person ever to see him."
I turned my head and looked at the woman to see if I would get any reaction from mentioning the man's name, but nothing came. She just sat there, grinning. I exhaled, found a napkin and wiped off the drool from her face, then sat back down.
"The thing is," I said and looked out the window. "I think something horrible happened to him on that night when he disappeared. And I think you saw it. I also think the shock of what happened made you how you are today. So, if only there was a way to have you tell me exactly what it was you saw on that night. If only. Then maybe we could get to the bottom of this. I think there's a heck of a story to tell. But I can't seem to crack it open. I had hoped you could help."
34
The snow-covered landscape outside
Laila Lund's window had me mesmerized. I sat in the chair for about an hour or so, talking to the old woman in her chair, telling her everything I knew about the story so far and even what had happened to me earlier in the year. I don't know why I did it, but I just needed it, I guess. Somehow, I felt that she, of all people, would understand it, or at least wouldn't tell me I was insane for thinking I had actually fought a guy who was centuries old, who drank the blood of certain people living here because it—for reasons I had yet to figure out—contained some strange green stuff that he needed in order to survive.
"I don't get it. I mean, why would Victor's blood be green? And why is he so close to Skye, closer than he has ever been to me?"
I chuckled, then looked at Laila Lund, who hadn't moved a muscle in all the time I had been sitting there, babbling on. I didn't even know if she was listening to me at all.
"Sorry," I said. "I just needed to unload a little. It's not that I am jealous or anything…well, maybe I am, but I want what’s best for him, don't get me wrong; it's just that I feel like I’m losing him a little bit every day. Maybe it's a natural process; I don't know."
I exhaled and looked at my phone between my hands. It was getting late, and I had to head back soon. I was disappointed that Laila Lund hadn't said a word. I knew she was sick, but I had hoped she would at least be able to speak a little, even if what she said probably wouldn't make any sense. I looked at her face, then moved a lock of hair that was blocking her view. She didn't seem to mind, though.
"What's it like in there? Does it get lonely?" I asked.
I thought about her when she was younger and how she had lived a life as a nurse, taking care of patients just like herself. Was it life's cruel irony somehow? What went on inside that body? Could she hear me? Was she trying to answer me, but her body wouldn't let her? I couldn't imagine living a life like this, not being able to talk to anyone or even look at them. Was this really a life worth living?
