Thirteen, Fourteen... Little Boy Unseen (12 page)

NICE SHIRT, REBEKKA.

I looked at the text, feeling baffled. What was this? Who was it? I shook my head and put the phone down, when it vibrated again.

RED IS MY FAVORITE COLOR.

I stared at the text, feeling my heart race in my chest. Who the hell was this person? How did he know what I was wearing? Had he seen me earlier today? Was he looking at me right now?

I stared at the dark windows. It was pitch-black outside. Someone was walking his dog, and it was peeing on the streetlamp. Other than that, the street was empty. I looked at the text again. Then I wrote back.

WHO IS THIS?

I put the phone down and went back to making my salad when the phone vibrated again. I picked it up.

LITTLE BOY UNSEEN

“What?” I asked out loud. What was that supposed to mean?

“What’s wrong?” My dad asked and looked up from the paper he was reading.

I shook my head and put the phone in my pocket. “Nothing.” I forced a smile, and hoped he wouldn’t notice how upset I was.

“Well, I don’t think we can wait for Sune any longer,” I said. “The kids are starving. Let’s eat.”

33

S
UNE DIDN’T
come home until the middle of the night. I had just fallen asleep after hours of staring at the ceiling, wondering where he was and what he was doing. I heard the door open and then the bed moved as he climbed in. It woke me up.

“Where were you?” I asked, knowing I once again sounded like his mother, but also feeling that I had a right to know.

“With Jeppe.”

“You smell like beer.”

“Well, we had a couple and played some pool. Is that a problem?” Sune asked, sounding drowsy.

I cleared my throat and decided not to ask any more questions. I wanted to talk to him about what they had been up to. I wanted to know if they had been looking at girls, or maybe even talking to them. I wanted to ask about everything and maybe yell a little at him for abandoning me like this, but I didn’t have the strength. Besides, Sune was drunk, and I wouldn’t be able to talk sense with him.

It had to wait.

“No,” I said instead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Soon after, Sune snored, while I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I stared at the ceiling and out of the window for hours before sleep finally overpowered me.

The next morning, I could hardly drag myself out of bed. I let Sune sleep in, mostly because I didn’t want to bother discussing anything with him, or even looking at him. I just wanted to get the kids ready for school, and then get myself to the office. I made breakfast for everyone and served some for my dad on a tray. When everyone was ready, we left the house without even saying goodbye to Sune. I told Tobias that his dad was still sleeping and that he had come home late.

At the office, Jens-Ole had called to congratulate me on the big article that had made the front cover of the newspaper this morning.

“And I heard Sune landed the officer. You two make quite the team,” he said joyfully.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We try our best.”

“So, do you have any follow-up leads for today?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I was thinking about getting someone to tell me how easy it is to get ahold of a police-baton and how common they are.”

“Sounds really good. Even though the police-killer angle is a good—and scary—one, we need to cover all aspects. You’re answering the question everyone is left with. Is this a police-killer, or could someone else have done it? Very good, my dear, very good. Let me know what you come up with. I was also thinking about doing a vox-pop with people in the area, asking them if they were afraid and if they are taking any precautions, you know…get the mood of the population. That’s always popular.”

I sighed. I hated vox-pops. It was so populist. Just going into the street and asking random people how they felt about something. In a case like this, it only added to the fear in the population, and I didn’t like that much. I believed they should know what was going on, but not be scared to walk the streets. But if my editor wanted me to do this, there was no way around it.

“Sure. I’ll do that a little later,” I said.

“That’s my girl.”

We hung up, and I looked at Sara.

“You look like you could use a day off,” she said.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

I stared at my screen, while her question lingered in my mind. There was no use in trying to hide it anymore, was there?

“I guess you could say that,” I said.

“I figured. It’ll get better,” she said.

“I sure hope it will.”

“Trying to play family is a lot harder than just dating,” she said with a smile.

She had no idea how right she was.

34

U
NDER
L
EONORA’S
protection, the bullying stopped for some months for Alex. Every now and then, someone would say something, but only to be told off by Leonora, and with her being the most popular girl in school, they would immediately stop.

Unfortunately, Leonora soon became bored with Alex and started having new friends to hang out with. It was a source of frustration for Alex, who struggled with increasing jealousy. She still clung very close to Leonora, and for a long time, she managed to keep her to herself. But Leonora was getting tired of the staring eyes in the cafeteria and the many whispering voices behind their backs. In the beginning, it had been fun to take Alex under her wing, to surprise everyone and take in the one that no one wanted. It had been fun. And she would probably have kept Alex close for a longer time if it hadn’t been for that one night in December when they had been in Leonora’s room, listening to the latest CD from The Cure that Alex had bought for her.

They were both lying on their backs on Leonora’s bed, talking about their dreams for the future.

“I want to be a rock-star,” Leonora said. “I want to travel the world and not be stuck in this small town.”

Alex laughed. “I bet you’d be a great rock-star. Everybody would love you.”

“You love me, don’t you, Alex?” Leonora had suddenly said.

Alex hadn’t known what to say. Thinking she might as well be honest she said, “Well…yes. Yes, I do.”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Alex had waited for Leonora’s answer, wondering what she was thinking, wondering how she would react.

She’s going to hate me. She’s going to tell me she’ll never see me again…that I am no longer her friend.

But that wasn’t how she reacted. Not at all.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Leonora said instead. She turned her head and looked intensely at Alex.

Alex stared at her lips. Her beautiful soft lips. Oh, how she had dreamt of kissing those lips. How she had longed to know what it would be like to kiss them. But she hesitated. Alex didn’t feel sure if Leonora really meant it. She was, after all, her best friend.

Leonora pushed her shoulder playfully and laughed. “Come on, Alex. I know you want to. Everyone at school tells me you’re a lesbian and that you only hang out with me because you’re in love with me. Don’t lie to me. It’s okay. You can be honest with me. You can trust me. I am your best friend.”

Alex blushed and looked down at the bed, avoiding Leonora’s eyes.

“You do want to kiss me, don’t you?” Leonora asked again.

Alex looked up and their eyes locked. Then, she smiled. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want to kiss you, Leonora.”

Leonora laughed and sat up. “I knew it!”

Alex shrugged, feeling self-confident, but still hopeful that maybe, just maybe Leonora felt the same way.

Leonora closed her eyes and stuck out her lips. “Then kiss me, you fool!”

Alex blushed again. She felt a deep sensation in her stomach, while waves of excitement rushed over her. Could this really be happening?

“What are you waiting for?” Leonora said.

Alex shrugged, then leaned over and closed her eyes, just before her lips hit Leonora’s. She could smell her skin. It was intoxicating. She held her breath as her lips landed on Leonora’s. But something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong, Alex soon realized, and opened her eyes, only to stare into the eyes of Brian from her class. Brian was, the most disgusting of all the boys, the one who never showered, always picked his nose in class, and smelled like cheese. Behind him, from behind the couch, up jumped three girls from their class. They stood right behind Brian, and so did Leonora. They were all laughing and pointing their fingers at Alex.

“DYKE!” Leonora yelled. “I knew you were a disgusting lesbian!”

“Dyke, dyke, dyke!”

All the girls laughed, while Leonora pulled out a tape recorder from under her pillow and pressed play.

“Yes, I want to kiss you,” Alex heard her own voice say. Then Leonora rewound the tape, and played the bit over and over again. “Yes, I want to kiss you, Leonora. Yes, I want to kiss you, Leonora.”

Alex stared at the girl she had loved so deeply, the girl she had adored beyond anything in this world, while Leonora laughed along with the other girls, mocking Alex, telling her how they had been playing her all this time, how Leonora was never her friend, that she would never belong anywhere, that they would play the tape at school to warn every girl about her, warn her that all she wanted was to get into their pants.

“No one will ever be your friend again, Alex,” Leonora said. “No one.”

That night, the boy held his sister in his arms, while she cried and swore she would kill all of them.

“I’ll beat them to death,” she said. “I’m gonna beat them all to death.”

35

I
GOT
some expert to tell me that it was actually not an easy task in this country to get ahold of a real police-baton. Not the same type they used within the force. They were handed out only to officers, and just like their guns, they had to hand them back when they left the force.

“They have serial numbers, just like guns, so they know if one is missing,” he stated.

“But, it could have been stolen, right?” I asked.

“Yes. But, again, the police would know if one was missing. Of course, no system is perfect, but in theory it shouldn’t be happening.”

I wrote it all down and put it in an article. I called the police station for a comment, but they didn’t have one, they told me. Just as I had expected. No matter how this turned out, someone in the police had made a mistake. Either someone had lost his or her baton, or the killer was within the force. That made a pretty good article, I believed.

When I was done, I called Sune. I needed him to come down and take pictures for me, as I did the vox-pop. He sounded exhausted when he answered.

“You have a job,” I said.

“Come on, Rebekka.”

“Now what? I let you sleep in and you’re still mad? I don’t get you.”

“Can’t you get someone else to do it? I don’t feel well.”

I growled. I wanted to throw the phone at the wall. “That’s because you’re hung over. Maybe if you didn’t go out drinking on a Thursday night with your friend, then this wouldn’t happen.”

“Yeah…well…” Sune said, sounding completely indifferent.

“You know what?” I said. “I’ll find someone else. Someone who would like to work and make money. You just stay in bed.”

I hung up before he could say anything. I was so angry I could explode. What the hell was he thinking? He was about to ruin everything for himself. If he started saying no to jobs, he was soon going to be out of work completely. I didn’t understand what was going on with him. Could it be a late teenage rebellion after all? Who was he rebelling against? Me?

I grabbed the phone and pressed a number.

“Hey there,” David said. “Good to hear from you.”

“I have a job for you. I’m missing my photographer again. Don’t ask. Could you step in? I know it’s on short notice.”

“No worries. I’m in the neighborhood anyway. I’ll stop by the office. See you in a few minutes.”

Working with David felt so good. We walked across town and ended up in the square, where we started interviewing people, asking them how they felt about the killings, if they were scared.

Of course, they all were terrified. Who wouldn’t be? Four killings was certainly something to creep people out. Especially with the way they were killed. Beaten to death, then dressed up and displayed. And, yes, then there were the details about the cut off genitals. That was the most terrifying part, most people seemed to agree.

“If he did it while they were still alive, it must have hurt like crazy,” an old lady carrying grocery bags said. Her eyes flamed with excitement as she spoke. I got the feeling she thought it was all very thrilling. Like a TV show or something.

“So, you’re not afraid to go out?” I asked.

The old lady shivered. “Oh, yes, I am. I’m horrified, but you gotta eat, don’t you? I don’t have anybody to shop for me. And to think we can’t even trust the police anymore. What is this world coming to?”

Another woman we interviewed told us she thought she knew who the killer was.

“He’s my neighbor. I tell you. It’s gotta be him. He’s a policeman. I see him every day when he leaves the house in his uniform. He looks at me like he wants to beat me with that baton of his. I always knew he was up to no good.”

“Now, there are a lot of police officers around town; they’re not all killers, just because they suspect one of them to be,” I argued. 

“Oh, no. But it’s him. I just know it is. You mark my words.”

I shook my head and noted what she said. David took her picture, and we thanked her before approaching someone else. This time, it was a guy, around fifty. He looked shyly at us as we walked closer.

“Excuse me,” I said. “We’re from
Zeeland Times
. Would you mind answering some questions?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” the guy said.

“It’s about the four killings. We’re just trying to take the temperature of the population. How they’re feeling about all this and so on.”