But when you're not with Peter, you're depriving your daughter of a father, of having a real family, aren't you?
I pushed Sune away and got up. I grabbed my laptop and threw it in my bag. "Rebekka," Sune pleaded. He grabbed my hand. Our eyes locked.
"Stay. Please stay here."
I stroked his cheek gently. My entire body was screaming madly at me as I made up my mind. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm going back tonight."
34
AUGUST 2012
BILL DURGIN FOLLOWED THE chosen couple through the hallway of the hotel and watched as they went into a room together.
I knew it! Nothing but cheating bastards. Going in there to fuck are we? Going to spend the night together making passionate love and then go home to your families the next day and pretend like nothing ever happened, are we?
Bill Durgin growled, put down the equipment-filled briefcase, pulled out the dry erase marker and held it for a little while thinking about its origin and felt such a deep sadness.
The marker was used to open the lock on the door to the room next to them. Luckily, it was empty. Bill sat down and pulled out the iPad, hoping that Thomas De Quincey would be in the chat room, but he wasn't. Instead, to Karl Persson:
Picked my target. Now all I have to do is wait.
Good for you. Will you post pictures?
Sure.
Good. I will be waiting for them. Got myself a little treat today as well, Karl Persson wrote.
I thought you were laying low? Someone called Michael Cogliantry answered. He had just joined the chat.
I was. But I couldn't resist. It was like taking candy from a kid. There was no way I was just going to let a chance like this pass me by, Karl wrote.
Who was she? Michael Cogliantry asked.
A girl around sixteen who walks past in the street every day on her way home from school. I have watched her for weeks, followed her everywhere. This afternoon I followed her from afar as she walked home. For the first time, she was alone. No one was walking with her and not a soul was in sight, even if it was broad daylight. As she put the key in the lock to her apartment building, I walked up behind her and grabbed her. I raped her in the basement of her own damn building with her parents probably drinking tea and waiting for her to come home just upstairs. Then I stabbed her, found a saw, cut her into pieces, and threw the remains in the dumpster behind the building. They'll empty it early in the morning. No one will ever know where she has gone. I slipped out and walked home without anyone seeing me. It was perfect. So delightful. I feel refreshed. Born again.
Sounds a little risky if you ask me, Cogliantry wrote. You know it is dangerous to kill too close to home. And in broad daylight? Are you crazy? Remember what happened to Einaudi.
Einaudi was crazy. He ran amok. I'm not him and never will be, Karl Persson argued.
How do you know? To me, it sounds like you're taking way too many risks. I don't want to be exposed just because you're not being careful.
Why are you fighting? It was Thomas De Quincey. He had joined the chat. Bill Durgin smiled in the hotel room and listened to the couple talking loudly on the other side of the wall. Finally, Thomas was on.
This isn't a chat room for people fighting, he continued. This is all about supporting one another, remember? It's about sharing experiences and helping each other out. Artists like us can be very lonely, especially with our kind of art. This is the only place we can share our masterpieces. I will not have people fighting in here … or you're out.
You're right, Cogliantry wrote.
Sorry for that, Karl Persson wrote.
It always amazed Bill how much authority and power Thomas De Quincey held over the others in the chat room. Bill was new to the whole thing and was quite fascinated with this Thomas character. You could say he had been a mentor.
This is Bill's night, Thomas De Quincey wrote. It's his time to shine. He is coming more and more together as an artist and we should encourage and support him for that. How's your next work coming along?
Bill smiled and heard the voices become even louder in the room next door. Very good. Doing a couple this time.
Very good, Thomas De Quincey answered. A double murder. You're progressing.
Well I have to, don't I? Progress towards the Grand Finale, Bill wrote.
And then your masterpiece is ready. I love what you are doing here. That the world will never understand nor appreciate your work only makes you an even greater artist, Bill.
Bill smiled again. There was no one who could encourage like Thomas De Quincey. The voices had stopped next door and Bill wondered if they were having sex. Waiting until they were done, Bill looked back at the iPad when suddenly, a door shut. Was that? Could it be?
Bill stood up, put the iPad away, and rushed into the hallway just in time to see the woman storm down the hallway and into an elevator. This was way too early. Bill cursed and stomped, then fondled the marker as though it was a talisman. Looking at the door, Bill wondered if leaving now might be the best idea.
No, that would be a shame. There was still one person in there guilty of adultery.
35
AUGUST 2012
I CALLED PETER FROM the car on my way back and told him I was coming back. He was so happy, he told me and he was going to stay awake to wait for me. I kissed him when he opened the door and threw myself in his arms.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry for everything."
Peter chuckled and stroked my cheek. "It's okay, Rebekka. I’m beginning to get how important your job is to you."
I smiled and kissed him again, wondering for one insane second if he could taste Sune on my lips. Could he taste that I had kissed someone else?
We went inside and up to bed where Peter wanted to have sex, but I told him I was way too tired. He looked disappointedly at me.
"Tomorrow, Peter. Today I'm beat after a long day. I just want to go to sleep."
Peter kissed my nose and turned around to go to sleep. I lay a long time with my eyes open, staring into the old, hand-carved, wooden ceiling, and feeling like the worst person on earth. I had been lying to Peter. I wasn't too beat to have sex. The fact was I didn't want to. I hadn't felt attracted to him.
Probably just because you're so damn confused.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to think about something else and finally, after half an hour or so, I fell into a heavy sleep.
"Mommy! Mommy! You're back." Julie woke me up the next morning jumping into our bed with a shriek. I grabbed her and hugged her for a long time. "What do you want to do today?" she asked.
"I want to do anything you want," I said and looked into her eyes.
"Let's play hide and seek," she said.
"Okay. After breakfast."
"Do you want to play too, Daddy?" Julie said.
"I guess I could play a little," he answered.
"How's the painting going?" I asked. I looked at my family and felt suddenly overwhelmed with gratefulness. To think I had almost thrown all of that away again.
"Not progressing as fast as I'd like it to," Peter said. "But, alright I guess."
"Let's go," Julie yelled and jumped down from the bed.
"I'll take a shower first," I said. "Be right down."
I walked into the bathroom, when suddenly I felt incredibly nauseated. It was overpowering and I had to sit down on the bathroom floor.
It's gotta be stress, I thought to myself.
I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror. Had my breasts grown? They had been very sore lately and now I could hardly touch them. Another wave of nausea flushed over me and I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up.
It was when I lifted my head and spotted the box of Tampax on the shelf that the penny finally dropped.
Could it be? Could I be? No. No. No.
I went through the stuff in my toilet bag, knowing I had hidden a pregnancy test somewhere in it from back when I was with Sune. I had used one of these a month, only to disappoint h
im with the results.
With a beating heart, I pulled out the stick and peed on it. Then I waited, but I didn't even have to wait till the time was up before I had my answer. I couldn't believe my eyes. I checked the box again, hoping I was wrong, hoping I had misunderstood it. Nope. I hadn't. Two lines shows you're pregnant it said.
I had to sit down. I stormed into the bedroom and sat on the bed staring at the small stick with the very serious message, wondering whom the father could be.
Was it Peter? If so, then there was no problem. We were a family and now, an expanding one. Nothing wrong with that.
Except the fact that you'd have to say a definitive goodbye to Sune. The thought hurt me deeply.
But could the child be Sune's? We had tried for months without any luck. Maybe it had finally paid off? In that case, I would end up hurting both Peter and Julie. I would crush the dream of a family. Sune would be thrilled beyond anything, since he had wanted another child for all the time I had known him. But what about me? I looked at the stick again, then down at my stomach that suddenly seemed to have grown tremendously in the last five minutes.
Did I really want another child? Did I want to destroy my family to have it?
36
AUGUST 2012
HENRIK FENGER WAS TRYING to run, but it hurt too much. He stopped for a little while to catch his breath, leaning towards the wall of a building. The bleeding had stopped and he had felt better waking up in his hotel room this morning. Last night had been a disaster for him. He had felt so confused and angry after talking to that journalist woman and after learning that there had been another victim like him. At first, he had freaked out thinking he had killed the wrong girl, but after a good night’s sleep, he finally saw things clearly now.
They were in on it together. The both of them had worked together on this. Two whores picking up guys in bars just to sedate them and steal their organs at night. It was very simple really. That was the only explanation he could come up with. Maybe there were even more than two? Maybe they were an entire group of women working this way. Maybe getting their revenge over men, who hadn't been treating them right or something.
That was it. A group of man-hating, freaking feminists. Maybe they were even trying to prove a point or something. Maybe they were like activists trying to tell people something through their desperate and violent actions.
Freaking feminists. Thinking they can have it all, thinking that they are as good as men. Bah.
Henrik looked at the piece of paper with the address in his hand, then at the iPhone where he had plotted the address in the app called maps. He had parked the rented car far away, so it wouldn’t be seen. He had to turn right at the next corner and then left on the first street. Henrik looked up the hill thinking it was going to be hard for him to walk all that way. Then he thought of Annabelle and how she had been deceiving him all night, whispering sweet words in his ear telling him how handsome he was, how she enjoyed being with him. Henrik growled and felt the adrenalin rush through his veins. Anger was the best drive he could think of. He roared and started walking again, now with renewed strength while picturing this Barbara character doing all the same things to this guy who she had ended up killing.
"Barbara Rasmussen," he mumbled.
He had gotten the name from the bartender at the hotel in Hasle where the other guy had been killed. Martin Damsgaard was his name. It was a name Henrik was going to make sure Barbara Rasmussen wasn't going to forget anytime soon. Martin wasn't here to take his own revenge, so Henrik would do it for him. It was the least he could do. Make sure these women realized they weren't getting away with this, even if the police were too stupid to see what was going on.
Henrik had paid the bartender five hundred kroner to give him the name and address of the girl. The bartender told him he had slept with her once, himself, at her place, so he knew exactly where to find her.
Henrik turned a corner and walked some hundred yards until he finally found the street where Barbara lived. It didn't take him long to spot the right building. A garbage truck further up the street emptied the dumpsters. A couple of neighbors were talking in a door opening.
"You hear about Jessen's daughter in number fourteen?"
"Yes terrible story. You think she ran away from home?"
"Nils in number twelve B says he saw her walk home yesterday afternoon after school, as usual. She passed his window at three o'clock, but she never made it home, her parents say."
"You think they're lying? They have beaten her before, remember?"
"Ah yes, terrible story."
Henrik shook his head and walked past the chatting women, not caring that they saw his face. Women weren't his favorite species among humans right now. He fought an urge to yell at them, to scare them senseless and give them something real to talk about. But this was not why he had come here.
37
AUGUST 2012
I WAS CLOSE TO tears as I walked down the stairs to eat breakfast. I had been thinking about it over and over again, but had not come up with any good solutions to my situation. So, I decided to try and ignore it. At least for a couple of hours while playing with my daughter, spending time with my family. Whatever happened, I didn't want to ruin this vacation for Julie. My editor had been calling my phone and leaving messages, but I hadn't listened to them or called him back, since I wasn't in the mood to work today. Today he would have to find someone else.
When I walked inside the kitchen, the TV was on and both Julie and Peter were staring at it.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Looks like you have to work again, Mommy," Julie said.
"What do you mean?"
"It happened again," Peter said. "Someone was attacked at a hotel in Silkeborg."
My heart stopped. "In Silkeborg. I was just there yesterday. What hotel? What hotel, Peter?"
"Easy now, Rebekka. I don't know the name of the hotel."
"Hotel Mercury," Julie said. I stared at her. My heart stopped.
"Who was the victim? Have they told who it was yet?" I asked.
"No. They don't know yet. All they know is that some guy was attacked in his hotel room and was found covered in ice cubes in the bathtub. They say he had his spleen taken out."
"Oh my God. Is he alive?"
"He was airlifted to the hospital in Aarhus. That's all they’ve said, so far."
I felt nauseated and had to sit down to not faint. "Are you okay, Mommy?" Julie asked. I felt her hand on my neck. It was like the room was spinning around me and I was suffocating at the same time. I wasn't sure I could stand up. The pregnancy, the decisions, the prospect of having to let them all down, and now this?
I reached into my pocket and found my phone. I found Sune's number and called it. Peter looked at me while I waited for an answer. But none came. His voicemail started and I hung up.
Peter was still looking at me. "What's going on, Rebekka?"
I shook my head and tried to call Sune again. Still no answer. This time I left a message on his voicemail.
"It's Rebekka. Call me when you get this."
I hung up. Peter had an angry look to his eyes. "It's him, isn't it? You're worried about that Sune guy, right?"
"What?" Julie said. "What about Sune?"
My hands were sweaty. I wiped them on my pants. My heart was racing like crazy. I felt like crying. Why the hell wasn't he answering his phone? Sune always answered his phone. This couldn't be … it simply couldn't be happening. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind and I had no time to consider Peter's jealousy or emotions at this point.
"Rebekka, I think you're exaggerating here. You don't know why he isn't answering his phone. Maybe he is still sleeping. Maybe he is already on his way home. He was going by train, right? Maybe he caught an early one?"
I nodded, while pressing back my tears. I had a horrifying feeling inside that something was wrong. I couldn't explain it. I only knew I was certain that something bad had happened to him and I couldn't bear it. r />
I looked up at Peter. "I need to borrow your car again," I said. "I have to go back to the hotel."
I got up from the chair and started packing my bag again. Peter exhaled. "Rebekka is this really necessary?"
"I'm afraid so, Peter. I have to do this. I have to make sure he is alright. Besides Jens-Ole probably wants me to cover the story for the paper anyway. He has already called me several times this morning and left messages in my voicemail. I just haven't called him back yet."
Peter handed me the keys to his Land Rover with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, Peter. But this is something I have to do."
"I don't understand it," Peter said. I detected anger in his voice. "It's not just about the work, is it? It's about him. Is he really that important to you? I'm sure if you wait half an hour he will call you back. Why Rebekka? Why is he still this important to you?"
I kissed Julie and put on my jacket. "I don't know Peter. He just is, alright?"
"Do you still love him?"
"Let's talk about it when I get back. First of all I need to know if he is alright. Then, I think we need to sit down and talk."
Peter growled, then grabbed my arm. It hurt. He pulled me back. "No."
"No what?"
"No you're not going anywhere. You're staying here with me, with us."
I looked into his eyes and suddenly saw the Peter I remembered from back when he wasn't well. I gasped and pulled my arm away.
"Don't ever tell me what to do, Peter. Not ever again."
38
AUGUST 2012
I WAS BOTH FRUSTRATED and angry as I drove across the countryside towards Silkeborg. I kept calling Sune, but he still didn't pick up. I had no idea what to think. On the radio, they talked about the third case of organ theft in the area and interviewed a police officer about how people should approach this, asking him if they should be scared.