"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."
Chapter Three
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.
* * *
End of excerpt…
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