by Willow Rose
Christian shook his head while gazing out the window in the direction of the forest once again.
"No. It was murder. I can feel it. I can sense it."
Jakob chuckled and shook his head. "And exactly how can you sense something like that?"
Christian looked at Jakob. He threw a book at him. Jakob ducked.
"Why must you always be so damn dull? You sit in here all day and read about kings that were dead long ago, more than two hundred years ago, and here we have the most spectacular event ever happening to this old school, the most bloody scene that far surpasses anything in your history books right outside our window and you mean to tell me you're not even going to sneak down there and at least have a peek?"
Jakob shrugged. "Well, since you put it that way…then…maybe."
Christian's eyes lit up. He picked up Jakob's winter jacket from behind the door and threw it at him. "Then what are we waiting for?"
2
"It looks like she was stabbed with a knife…several times or maybe even with several knives from behind, then fell onto the ice over here before the killer…decapitated her and…cut her heart out."
The officer by the name of Andersson from the local Naestved Police Department briefing Detective Forrest Albu was paler than the snow he pointed at. Forrest noticed the officer was sweating heavily, despite the icy wind this cold morning in November. Forrest nodded and followed him to look at the bloody tracks on the ice. He had arrived only about half an hour ago, riding there from Copenhagen on his motorcycle.
"The forensics say the stab that killed her was made right here and then she was turned around before the decapitation began and…the…"
Forrest nodded and put his hand on Officer Andersson's shoulder. "You don't have to repeat it, Officer." Forrest stared at the headless body lying on the ice in a pool of blood, painting the snow red.
"We haven't found it yet," the officer said with a sigh.
"The head?" Forrest asked and looked briefly at the sky, where a thick cloud covered the sun completely. Unlike most other people in this country, Forrest enjoyed these dark winters.
Andersson nodded. "Or the heart."
"And the uniform tells us she’s from the boarding school, right?" Forrest asked and pointed at the famous Trolle emblem on the chest of the girl's shirt underneath her jacket.
The officer nodded. Forrest rose up and looked around. The officer looked at him with great curiosity. "We've searched everywhere," he said. "Between the reeds, on the tracks all the way back to the forest, and still nothing. We might need to get the dogs out here to see if they can sniff it out."
"It is indeed a sad day," Forrest said and scanned the area while turning around on his heels. For most people, the long open leather coat wouldn’t have done much good in keeping them warm. Not in this cold. But for Forrest, it was more than enough. He didn’t feel the icy cold. He twirled a couple of times, then exclaimed: "You’ve been searching in the wrong places, my friend."
"Excuse me?"
"It's just like my mother always said," Forrest exclaimed and started walking across the ice.
"And what might that be?" Officer Andersson said, sounding confused. He tried to keep up but Forrest was walking much faster than he. The ice was slippery under Forrest's black leather shoes. It was creaking loudly under their weight and the sound made Andersson quite uncomfortable.
"If you can't find something, you've been looking in the wrong places!" Forrest exclaimed again with his finger held high. "Ever heard of hiding something in plain sight?"
Officer Andersson kept quiet while trying to keep up.
"Don't shake your head just yet, Officer Andersson," Forrest said. He approached the trees where the forest began, then started walking along the line of trees and looking up. "In a minute, you'll understand everything much better. It’s all about the eyes that see, my friend. And you haven’t been able to see the trees because of the forest."
"Isn't it the other way around?" Officer Andersson asked while hurrying along behind him. "That you can't see the forest because of all the trees?"
"Not in this case," Forrest said. He stopped and whistled. "There you go." He pointed at a branch in a tall tree. "Your head and next to it…the heart."
Officer Andersson gaped as he looked up and spotted the head that was pierced on a barren branch higher up than what seemed humanly possible.
"But…but…How?"
"Simple logic, my friend. See, the girl's head was decapitated, right?"
Officer Andersson nodded, still perplexed.
"The girl is a student at the school and when do we learn about decapitations in school?"
Andersson stared at him with the same confused look as earlier.
"In history class," Forrest answered for him. "In history class, we learn about the French Revolution, right? You know when the noblemen and royalties of France were brutally murdered by the common man to free them from the tyranny. In most cases, decapitated by the guillotine. You know that one, I assume?"
Andersson nodded. "Most certainly, but..."
"I have one name for you. Princess de Lamballe. Once I looked at the poor girl out there on the ice, I at the same time remembered one specific case during the Revolution, the story of Princess de Lamballe. Princess Therese de Lamballe was a very close friend of Queen Marie Antoinette. She was a great support to her during the early very difficult years of her marriage to King Louis the sixteenth, and she was to provide comfort in the later dark days of her life. Princess de Lamballe was beautiful and witty and as fond of gaiety and the good life as the Queen. Princess de Lamballe was turned over to an angry mob waiting with hammers, swords, and pikes in an alley. She was allegedly stabbed from behind, then they cut off her head and cut out her heart and both were mounted on pikes and paraded through the streets of Paris."
Forrest sighed and patted the officer on his shoulder. "What you have here, my friend, is a killer who is fascinated with the French Revolution. And maybe even more than that. Maybe killings through history in general."
3
Peter Lovenskov was standing among the many spectators that had run down to the lake to see what was going on. He was staring at the dead body that the police had pulled from the ice onto the shore, leaving a wide stripe of blood. Now they were examining her and the area where she was found. Peter tilted his head to better see. He felt an unexplainable shiver roll down his back as he saw what looked like intestines being picked up and examined by some guy in a bodysuit, probably a forensic, before it was put into a small bag and secured.
People standing in front of him were whispering. A girl suddenly broke out of the crowd and ran toward a bush where she threw up. Her friends ran after her and helped her get back through the tall trees to the school. Peter didn't spend much time looking at them; his eyes were fixated on the girl. He recognized Anne's clothing from the night before. A policeman tried to get them all to move away, but in vain. Everybody wanted to have a peek.
"Nothing to see here, go back to your dorms, please," he yelled again and again. But none of the students moved. They stared like they were paralyzed at the scene in front of them. The girl who most of them didn't know was lying in the snow, covered in blood, her head torn off, her heart ripped out. Most were disgusted but, like Peter, they were also attracted to the scene. It was like he couldn't stop looking. He compared it to a car accident where people always have to stop and look.
"Who is she?" his friend Jakob standing next to him asked.
Peter shrugged. "Never seen her before."
"But she's from the school, right?"
"I heard that her name was Anne," someone standing next to Peter suddenly said. "She was new to the school. Only been here since summer."
"Come on, people," the policeman started once again. "Get out of here."
Some up in the front started to walk away, mumbling and shaking their heads. Peter's eyes didn't leave the girl's bloody chest. Peter felt stirred up inside. He was breathing heavier
, not taking any notice of all the students around him that were slowly leaving. Soon, only him, Christian, Jakob, and their dormitory teacher, Mr. Rosenberg, were left. While they were still staring at the macabre scene, something happened inside the boys, something they didn’t speak about or dare to even mention to one another afterward. But they all felt it. It was like a cancer through their bodies that devoured all the good and righteous thoughts in them.
"We found it!" someone in a black leather coat yelled from the left, close to the forest. Peter was pulled out of his reverie and looked at the person who was yelling. The tall blond man was waving his hat in the air and a couple of officers ran toward him. He was extremely pale and you could see the veins in his face even from a distance. Or at least Peter could.
"He's got it!" someone yelled.
Peter's heart rate went up considerably and he could hear the blood rushing through his veins.
"What have they found?" Christian asked.
Peter stared with manic eyes at the officers to the left, one was taking pictures, and another was examining the surroundings. A third one took off his hat and held it between his hands.
"The head," Peter whispered, then cleared his throat. "They found the head. It's attached to a branch on a tree over there." He was amazed that he could see it even from this far away. But he could.
The forensics climbed the tall tree, cut the branch off, and started walking with the head still on it toward the shore.
"Let's get out of here," Jakob said.
He pulled his shoulder.
"Come on, man."
Peter took one last glimpse at the dead girl that he had kissed the night before, then turned and followed the others back to the dorm.
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