I found a shirt and put it on. I loved the way it covered my body. Christian was a big guy. I liked that. I really liked him. I put the dress all the way in the back so he wouldn't suspect that I had seen it. Then when I was about to close the closet-door I spotted something else. It made my heart drop. Something was sticking out on the top shelf. I grabbed it and pulled it down. It was a wig. A blond wig. I gasped for air. What was this?
I thought I heard the door to the bathroom open so I hurried and threw the wig back on the shelf. Then I closed the door and walked back to the bed. I had no idea what to think anymore, I thought. Maybe it was about time to go home.
I picked up my stockings and started putting them back on. Then I took off Christian's shirt while wondering what I should tell him. My daughter called? Some kind of emergency? I felt sad. I really liked him, but this was just a little too much right now. I had to have some time to myself and think. I sighed and sat at the bed. The dress felt tight. Probably from all the food I had eaten tonight.
Christian was very quiet in the bathroom. I couldn't even hear the water running. Maybe he was done showering. I exhaled. I had to come up with something to tell him. I decided to go with the “My daughter called and I have to go home to her” angle. It was plausible enough after all she had been through.
My eyes scanned the room while I waited. I spotted a book on the bedside table. I picked it up. Under the Burning Sun was the title. I turned it over and read the back cover. My heart stopped. Literally. The book was written by a journalist named Tue Hansen who had lived in Zimbabwe for three years while working for a humanitarian organization. The book was about his experiences and how he had seen an entire village burned to the ground and how the villagers had fled to a church thinking they would be safe there. The attackers had then let the Danish journalist watch as they burned the church to the ground with the people inside of it.
“To let us understand that anything we did in this country was in vain. We might as well go home, they said. We couldn't change Africa,” the text read. I read the last part three times. Those were Christian's exact words. This story was exactly what he had told me, to the very detail, to the word. Even the part about the young boy that he had gotten close to and tried to adopt was in this book.
Was it all just a lie?
I threw the book on the bed. Then I lifted my head and gasped. Christian was standing in front of me. He was wearing blue eye shadow and red lipstick. In his hand he held a scalpel. He was staring at me. Then he began to giggle like a little girl.
I got up on my feet. "What are you doing? Christian?" My heart was racing in my chest now.
"Oh!" he said. "Now where are my manners? I haven't presented myself. My name is Victoria. I am Christian's twin sister."
"Christian. This is not funny. Please cut it out," I said trying to sound like I wasn't scared of him.
Christian giggled again. "See there is where we are very different Christian and I. He wouldn't think this was funny either, but I do. I find it hilarious." He lifted the scalpel and took another step closer to me. I backed up.
"Christian. I am going to go home now. I don't want to be a part of this."
"Oh. That's too bad. Because that's exactly what you're going to be. And I'll do the parting."
"Christian. You can't be serious. Did you kill all those people?" I asked. My voice was trembling slightly.
"Christian didn't," he smiled. "But I did. Christian doesn't have it in him like I do. He always was a soft boy. He doesn't get the thrill out of it like I do." Christian leaned over and whispered. "It doesn't turn him on like it does me."
I shook my head in disbelief. "You're sick," I said.
Christian laughed out loud. "That I am." He walked slowly around me with the scalpel in front of him. The lipstick had smeared onto his cheek. His eyes had tics. His facial expression was completely different from the Christian I knew. It was as if he had somehow changed into an entirely different person. I heard his breath next to my ear. The scalpel was now close to my forehead. I gasped as it touched my skin.
"Stop it Christian," I said. I grabbed his hand and tried to pull the scalpel away from my face. But he was too strong. He grabbed my neck and held me tight in his hand. I gasped for air. He whispered in my ear.
"The thing is that Christian is too weak. He will never be able to get by without me. He never could. I always have to come to his rescue. I have to protect him from this cruel world. He would be lost without me. I wanted him to take revenge for me, but even in that he failed. He couldn't do it without my help."
I gasped again. "Revenge for what?"
"Revenge for my death of course. They killed me, those bastards. They cut me open and left me to live like a vegetable. But he chickened out. Said he couldn't do it. So of course I had to step in and help him. It was just like when I wanted Christian to kill our parents for what they had done to us. He couldn't do it." Christian laughed. Then he hissed in my ear. "So I had to. I had to finish the pain."
"You killed your own parents?" I asked. I felt sweat break out on my forehead and upper lip. I could still see the scalpel; it was right outside of my eye now. His grip on my throat became tighter as he spoke.
"It's a long story. I'm afraid I don't have the time to take a trip down memory lane with you. I'm kind of busy with something else," he said chuckling.
I saw the scalpel lifted and felt it pinch my forehead. Then I was thrown on the bed. Christian was on top of me holding me down by the throat. I was choking, gasping for air.
"This might sting a little," he said and placed the scalpel just above my eyes. Having read about lobotomies and how they were performed I sobbed by the very thought of what was about to happen. I saw the pictures I had seen on the Internet and heard Dr. Irene Hoeg's words as she had described the procedure to me. Then I screamed all I could half-choked.
The grip on my throat tightened and I felt like I was about to slip out of consciousness when I heard a huge noise followed by yelling. I heard my name, footsteps, and then the heavy weight on top of me was lifted and the grip on my throat removed gone. I coughed heavily, gasping for air, before I finally managed to focus and see what was going on. Christian was on the floor, fighting with someone. The scalpel had fallen out of his hand. They were beating each other and slapping, fists hitting faces and bodies. I saw Christian’s attacker.
It was Sune.
He took a fist to his jaw and fell to the ground. Then he received a blow to his stomach and landed, moaning. I sat up then kicked Christian under the chin with both of my legs causing him to tumble backwards into a dresser. Sune was on his feet again, groaning. His nose was bleeding profusely. He wiped it on his sleeve before he grabbed my hand while Christian tried to get back on his feet. We ran towards the door. Christian grabbed my foot and I fell on my face. I tried to kick my way out of his grip hitting his face, but he didn't let go. Sune pulled my arm. Then he flattened Christian with a kick to the face. I looked at Sune who grabbed my arm and pulled me up. Christian yelled and screamed while we stormed out the front door and down the stairs. Christian was fast on his feet again and followed us, yelling at us in the hallway. I jumped several steps at a time, right behind Sune.
Christian was still yelling as we slammed the door and ran into the night.
CHAPTER 39
WE JUMPED INTo a taxi and had it take us back to my house. We didn't utter a word to each other until we were back in my living room. I found us a couple of beers and some paper towels to put on Sune's nose to stop the bleeding.
"You're shaking," he said looking at my hands.
I exhaled. "I know. I can't seem to stop."
"We need to call the police," he said.
"I know." I sat on the couch next to him and drank from my beer. I was devastated. I watched Sune as he got up and found his cell phone in his pocket. I heard him speak to someone and tell them about the attack.
"They'll try and go there right away, but he’s probably long gone," Sune said as
he came back. He sat next to me and drank his beer. "He's too smart. They won't catch him tonight."
I sighed. Christian knew where I lived. "I know," I said with heavy heart thinking about my daughter.
"They'll be here soon to take your statement," Sune continued.
I nodded. "Naturally."
We didn't have to wait long before two officers were at the door. I invited them in and told them everything I knew. They noted it all and promised me that they would do everything in their power to find this guy. Then they thanked me and left the house. Sune handed me my beer once they were gone. We sat on the couch.
"How did you know?" I asked.
Sune smiled. "You're going to hate me for this."
"I have a feeling that I won't," I said.
"Well I didn't feel good about you dating this guy, you know that. So I did what any jealous guy would do," he said and drank from his beer.
"You ran a background check on him?"
Sune nodded. "It took me a couple of hours to convince myself that it was a good idea. I was afraid you would be mad at me if you found out. Once I had persuaded myself that it was in both of our interests it was pretty easy, really. I couldn't find one article written by him in the Express or in any other newspaper. I called the newspaper in Naestved and the receptionist said they had never heard of him. Then I searched for him in Danida's database and no one by his name had ever worked there or been in Zimbabwe working for them."
"He had the story from a book," I said. "Can't believe I let him fool me like that."
"I found something more," Sune said. "Once I suspected something was very wrong I broke into his computer. It didn't take me long to find out that Christian was the guy that had chatted with Susanne Larsen. He called himself Troels and planned to meet with her at the inn. I also found e-mails from Home Care, you know the company working for the state that assists elderly and disabled people in their homes. Apparently Christian had gotten a job there and went by the name of Svend Henriksen. He took care of Fat Linda Nielsen every Sunday for the past five weeks."
"Wow," I exclaimed. "He has been planning this for a long time, then."
"He sure has. I also found e-mails from an escort-agency where he worked as well. They sent him to visit Marianne and Martin Frandsen the day before yesterday, the night Martin Frandsen was killed. They knew him as Asger. The last thing I found in his e-mail was a confirmation of his new membership to the badminton club where Anders Hoejmark was president."
I nodded pensively. "It was probably also him who called the Express anonymously to tip them off so it seemed like he worked there. He knew more about the killings than anyone else. That was also how he managed to always be at the scene so quickly and have all the information."
"Of course," Sune said. "But there is something else. I found more. In the police database."
I looked at him. Then I put down my beer on the table. "I guess it won’t surprise me."
"He was investigated during the investigation of his sister's death some ten years ago. She was killed in an institution in Northern Zeeland. Lived in a nursing home for the disabled. One day she was found strangled in her room. They suspected the brother but then another patient admitted to having done it in anger and the case was closed."
I got up from the couch and went to a bookshelf. I pulled out two books and took out a pack of cigarettes hidden for emergencies some months ago. I opened it and lit one. The smoke felt soothing. I offered Sune one and he accepted. This was not a moment to think about our health.
"Thanks," I said after a short break.
"For what?"
"For being a jealous guy."
Sune chuckled. "I guess it paid off for once." He smoked the cigarette then killed the rest in a small ashtray I had put out.
"He would have killed me if you hadn't arrived. I saw the madness in his eyes. They were filled with a strange desire to hurt me. It was like he suddenly changed into this monster. His eyes were nothing like they normally are. It was really strange. Kind of destroys one's belief in the good in human kind. My ability to trust people has been seriously hurt."
I killed my cigarette. Sune said nothing. He stared at me. I looked into his eyes. His face was badly bruised. I stroke it gently. He grabbed my hand. Then he kissed it.
"I love you Rebekka," he said. "Do with it what you want. I just needed to tell you."
I pulled my hand away. He looked at me and exhaled.
"I don't know what to do with that right now," I said.
His eyes were disappointed. This wasn't the answer he was hoping for. But it was all I could give right now.
"All I can think of is the safety of my family right now. I don't know how to protect them with him out there."
Sune stroke my hair. "Let's hope the police find him tonight," he said. "Until then you'll need some rest. I'll stay awake and guard you while you sleep."
"What about Tobias?" I asked. "Where is he right now?"
"I had my neighbor stay with him in my apartment. She's an older lady, she loves taking care of him. They have fun together."
I nodded. "That's good."
"Now go upstairs and get some sleep."
My sleep was uneasy and I woke several times screaming, my pillow soaked from sweat. When it was time to get up and get Julie ready for school I was finally sleeping heavily. It was Julie who woke me up.
"Mom. You have to get up now," she said. "You have to help me get dressed with this cast." I sat up and stared at her wrist. I felt a pinch in my heart. I hated that she had been hurt because of me and my job. She handed me her shirt and I helped her put it on. "It's kind of cool, mom," she said. "None of my friends has ever broken anything. Elvira from my class once sprained her ankle. But I'm the first to ever have a cast on."
I smiled and kissed her forehead. She was trying so hard to make me feel better. She knew I was guilt plagued. She knew me too well.
"That's good sweetie."
I took a quick shower while Julie packed her backpack and then we went downstairs. The smell of breakfast and coffee filled me with a calmness that everything at least seemed normal. When we entered the kitchen Sune was sitting at the table drinking coffee and eating buttered toast.
"Look who I found in our living room when I came down this morning," Dad said with a smile.
Julie's eyes lit up. I guess mine did too.
"Sune!!" She yelled then ran towards him and hugged him. He kissed her forehead. "What are you doing here? Where's Tobias?" she asked.
"Mrs. Svendsen my neighbor has promised to bring him to school today," he said. Then he looked up at me and smiled. "I had promised your Mom to stay here for the night."
"Why?" Julie asked.
"Enough with all those questions," I said and served her some buttered bread and orange juice. "Eat your breakfast. We're in a hurry."
Sune got up from his chair. "I'd better get back and take a shower as well," he said.
"Get some sleep," I said. "You need it. You can come in later to the office. Maybe bring us all some lunch?"
Sune smiled. "Sounds like a plan," he said just before he left the house.
"Do you care to tell us what is going on?" Dad asked after Julie was done eating and had run upstairs to go to the bathroom before we left. "Sune told me he was here to protect us? That he had promised to stay so you could sleep and not worry? Should I be worried?"
I sighed. "I don't know Dad. To be honest I'm a little confused right now. With Julie getting hurt and yesterday ..." I looked at Dad and realized I was causing him too much worry. I had to spare him and his weak heart. "Well Sune helped me out of a difficult situation."
"You mean he saved you," he said. He shook his head. "Just promise to be careful."
Julie came down the stairs and took on her jacket. "I will, Dad. I promise," I said and followed her out the door.
At the office I called Johannes Lindstroem but they hadn't caught Christian Lonstedt yet, he said. He was wanted all over the country and h
e was sure they would catch him eventually.
"All criminals make mistakes at some point and then we catch them," he said with his calm voice.
I told him I certainly hoped so and hung up. Then I called an old friend of mine. James Wickham. He was a profiling expert for the FBI and an expert in serial killers. I needed to understand and I knew he was the only one who could explain Christian to me.
"Rebekka!" he exclaimed.
"Hi James. How are things?"
"Wonderful. Never been better. Busy though with the kids and everything. Janice is pregnant again so we have enough on our plate. How about you? It's been a couple of years since I last heard from you. Shame on you."
"I've been busy as well. We have another serial killer on our hands," I said.
"Again? What is it this time? More rich men?"
"No this time it's different." I looked through my notes and found the page where I had compared all the victims. "The victims are both male and female. They're very average people, all killed in the shower, the killer has performed lobotomies on all of them with a scalpel - while they were still alive and aware," I said.
"Urgh," he said.
"I know. It's nasty. What can you tell me about him?"
"I'd go after the lobotomies. It's highly unusual. Why would he choose that exact method? Find that and you have the reason why he is killing."