"Sweetie," he mumbled and opened his eyes. "I'm so glad to see you."
"You're doing much better, Dad. Don't worry. The doctor says I can take you home, maybe tomorrow."
My dad chuckled. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm glad you're here because someone came in earlier. I told him to come later today so he could see you."
"Hi Rebekka."
I turned my head and looked into the eyes of Sune. I rose to my feet and let go of my dad's hand. "Sune? What are you doing here? Jens-Ole said you quit. I thought you had left town."
Sune smiled. "I was about to, but I wanted to say goodbye to your dad. He has, after all, meant a lot to me. He convinced me I should at least say a proper goodbye to you."
My heart was pounding in my chest. There was so much I wanted to say, but why? To make him stay? Was that what I wanted? Him to stay against his will just because I might or might not be pregnant with his child? I had my doubts.
"Did you hear about …?”
Sune nodded. "Peter? Yeah. I heard. Quite the story, huh?"
I exhaled. "The funeral is Friday. I guess we'll be there, since Julie needs to say goodbye to her dad."
"Naturally." Sune looked at me and sighed. "Well okay. I'd better … I should just … I mean we need to be in Copenhagen at three, so I should …"
"Stop." I looked at Sune. It had burst out without me even thinking. Our eyes locked. I gasped. My tongue felt so dry. I could hardly move my lips.
"Argh, for Christ sake," my dad grumbled. "She's pregnant and the child is probably yours."
My heart stopped. I wanted to yell at my dad for blurting it out like that. But then I saw the look on Sune's face.
"Is it true?" Sune asked.
"Well … uh … I guess it is. Yes, Sune, yes. I'm pregnant."
Sune's eyes grew wide. He was breathing heavily.
"You don't have to do anything, Sune. It's okay. After all it might be Peter’s."
"But it might be mine?"
"Well, yes. I mean we did try for a long time … and the dates fit. The doctor told me it happened by the end of June and there was no Peter then. Not until July."
Sune smiled widely. "I'm gonna be a dad again? We're going to be parents?"
"I guess so?"
Sune grabbed me around my waist and picked me up. He started spinning around with me in his arms. I laughed. He stopped and let me slide down slightly till my eyes were in front of his.
"I love you Rebekka Franck."
"I love you too."
Then we kissed.
THE END
Do you wanna know what happens next?
Get Eleven Twelve ... Dig and delve here:
http://www.amazon.com/Eleven Twelve ... Dig and delve
Dear reader,
Thank you for purchasing the first five books in the Rebekka Franck series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you liked the settings and the creepy parts, then you might as well enjoy the series of scary short-stories that I just released. They all take place in Rebekka Franck's hometown and are related to this series. You can get them and my other books and series below.
Take care,
Willow Rose
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WILLOW ROSE is an international best-selling author. She writes Mystery/Suspense/Horror, Paranormal Romance and Fantasy. Originally from Denmark, she now lives on Florida's Space Coast with her husband and two daughters. She is inspired by authors like James Patterson, Agatha Christie, Stephen King, Anne Rice, and Isabel Allende. When she is not writing or reading, you'll find her surfing and watching the dolphins play in the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. She has sold more than 700.000 books.
Connect with Willow online:
http://www.willow-rose.blogspot.com/
www.facebook.com/willowredrose
https://twitter.com/madamwillowrose
BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR:
MYSTERY/HORROR NOVELS:
ONE, TWO ... HE IS COMING FOR YOU (Rebekka Frank #1) - http://www.amazon.com/One, two ...
THREE, FOUR ... BETTER LOCK YOUR DOOR (Rebekka Frank #2) - http://www.amazon.com/Three, Four ...
FIVE, SIX ... GRAB YOUR CRUCIFIX (Rebekka Frank #3) - http://www.amazon.com/Five, Six ...
SEVEN, EIGHT ... GONNA STAY UP LATE (Rebekka Frank #4) - http://www.amazon.com/Seven, eight ...
NINE, TEN ... NEVER SLEEP AGAIN (Rebekka Frank #5) - http://www.amazon.com/Nine, ten ...
ELEVEN, TWELVE ... DIG AND DELVE (Rebekka Frank #6) - http://www.amazon.com/Eleven Twelve ... Dig and delve
EDWINA - http://www.amazon.com/Edwina
ITSY BITSY SPIDER (Emma Frost #1) - http://www.amazon.com/Itsy Bitsy Spider
MISS DOLLY HAD A DOLLY (Emma Frost #2)- http://www.amazon.com/Miss Polly
RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN (Emma Frost #3) - http://www.amazon.com/Run run
CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE (Emma Frost #4) - http://www.amazon.com/Cross your heart
PEEK A BOO I SEE YOU (Emma Frost #5) - http://www.amazon.com/Peek a Boo
TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE (Emma Frost #6) - http://www.amazon.com/Tweedledum and Tweedledee
EASY AS ONE TWO THREE (Emma Frost #7) - http://www.amazon.com/Easy as One Two Three
THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME (Emma Frost #8) - http://www.amazon.com/Theres no place like HOME
HORROR SHORT STORIES:
EENIE, MEENIE - http://www.amazon.com/Eenie, Meenie
ROCK-A-BYE BABY- http://www.amazon.com/Rock-a-bye
NIBBLE, NIBBLE, CRUNCH - http://www.amazon.com/Nibble, Crunch
HUMPTY, DUMPTY - http://www.amazon.com/Humpty, Dumpty
CHAIN LETTER - http://www.amazon.com/Chain Letter
PARANORMAL ROMANCE/SUSPENSE/FANTASY NOVELS:
BEYOND (AFTERLIFE #1) - http://www.amazon.com/Beyond
SERENITY (AFTERLIFE #2) - http://www.amazon.com/Serenity
ENDURANCE (AFTERLIFE #3) - http://www.amazon.com/Endurance
COURAGEOUS (AFTERLIFE #4) - http://www.amazon.com/Courageous
SAVAGE (Daughters of the Jaguar #1) - http://www.amazon.com/Savage
BROKEN (Daughters of the Jaguar #2) - http://www.amazon.com/Broken
A GYPSY SONG (The Wolfboy Chronicles) - http://www.amazon.com/A Gypsy song
I AM WOLF (The Wolfboy Chronicles) - http://www.amazon.com/I am WOLF
BOX SETS:
REBEKKA FRANCK SERIES - http://www.amazon.com/Rebekka Franck
DAUGHTERS OF THE JAGUAR - http://www.amazon.com/Daughtersof the Jaguar
THE AFTERLIFE SERIES - http://www.amazon.com/Afterlife
HORROR STORIES FROM DENMARK - http://www.amazon.com/Horror Stories
THE WOLFBOY CHRONICLES - http://www.amazon.com/THE WOLFBOY CHRONICLES
EMMA FROST MYSTERY SERIES VOL 1-3 - http://www.amazon.com/Emma Frost Mystery vol 1-3
EMMA FROST MYSTERY SERIES VOL 4-6 - http://www.amazon.com/Emma Frost Mystery vol 4-6
ITSY BITSY SPIDER
PROLOGUE
1977
AT FIRST SHE THOUGHT it was an accident. That the door to the bunker had shut by accident. Then she tried to open it on her own, but couldn't. It was either too heavy or must have locked when it shut. She knocked carefully.
"Hello?"
The quiet coming from outside the iron door was gruesome. Astrid swallowed hard and knocked once again, this time harder.
"Hello?"
But nothing. Nothing but the horrendous sound of her own breathing. Someone will open it. Once they realize it has shut, they'll come. Astrid took the ten steps from the door down into the bunker. She felt tired and her feet were swollen. She sighed and sat down on a bench, waiting, staring at the door anticipating it swinging open at any moment now. It was actually two doors separ
ated by a small hallway between them. Even if she hammered they wouldn't be able to hear her. All she had to do was wait. Someone would eventually come for her.
Wouldn't they? Of course they would. He would come. He who told her he loved her?
Astrid knew she wasn't among the smartest of the young kids on the island. Her mother always told her that. But she had good hands and she wasn't a half bad cook. If she stuck to what she knew, she might be lucky enough to one day have a man, her mother had always said. Now she had found one. And he wanted more than just her cooking. He wanted her. He loved her, he said. Then he made love to her in the dunes by the beach.
He was nice to her and she wanted him to meet her mother, but he kept telling her, not now, not today. Astrid never thought of asking when, she waited patiently for him to find the time in his busy schedule. She never wondered why he never took her places, why he insisted they only meet at night or why he never spoke to her except for the dirty words he whispered in her ears, that Astrid was educated enough to know wasn't something they would say in church.
No, Astrid never thought there could be anything wrong with her relationship to this boy who once said he loved her, and who showed his love for her in the dunes again and again, night after night during that endless summer in 1977. Instead she started looking forward to their life together, preparing herself to one day become the mother she had always dreamt of.
"You'll get nothing but dummies like yourself," her mother had said. "There should be a law that demanded that people like you were sterilized so you wouldn't pass your stupidity on to your kids. Stupid girl," she said and slapped Astrid across the face.
Yes, Astrid was very well aware that she wasn't the smartest among people, but she had a good heart to her. That much she knew. One day she would become a great mother to a child that would have the father's intellect and that child was going to go on into the world and do great things.
"That'll show them," she said sniffling while staring at the closed iron door up the stairs.
"He'll come for me, won't he?" she asked and her voice echoed into the small room behind her lit only by a light bulb hanging from under the ceiling. Of course he will. Of course.
Astrid drew in a deep sigh. She looked around and spotted the big flashlight on a shelf in the corner among blankets, water bottles and canned food. She pulled it out and held it in her hand. Then she sat down again, waiting for someone to come and get her. Not just someone. Him, the boy of your dreams, the love of your life. Not just anyone.
Astrid sighed and calmed herself down. She always did this, mother would say, she always made herself uneasy or even anxious for no reason at all.
1
2012
THE MAN WAS LOOKING in the windows of the French doors leading into the kitchen. It was dark inside the mansion by the ocean. A small light under the door revealed that there was someone in the other room next to the kitchen. Just as he had hoped.
The man lifted his gloved hand and smashed it through the small window, then stuck his hand through and unlocked the door. He opened it without making any sound at all. Smoothly he slid through the door and into the woman's kitchen. Carefully he closed the door behind him, while stepping on the broken glass underneath his heavy boots.
The man turned and looked at the perfect kitchen. Knives were hanging on the wall. He grabbed one and looked at it in the moonlight coming from outside. Then he sighed with a deep feeling of satisfaction while putting it back. He reached into his own sports bag and found his own set of knives rolled up in their bag. Like a professional chef he unfolded the bag and rolled the knives out on the table.
What a beautiful sight to the man's eyes. Clean blades, sharpened to perfection. Almost a pity he had to mess them up. Cutting through meat and bones always made them dull. The man picked one out and put the rest back in his bag. Then he approached the door leading to the living room where he could tell the TV was on.
The man had studied the woman's daily routine for weeks now and knew she always dozed off to her favorite show, The Sopranos, before she went to the bathroom at exactly ten-thirty. She was as precise as a clock. She would go into the kitchen and grab a glass of water that she would bring to put next to her bed for the night. She had a hard time sleeping lately and that made her thirsty.
The man walked out of the kitchen door and into the hallway while he could hear the theme song for The Sopranos, and then the TV was shut off.
The man sat down on a chair in the corner of the guest bedroom and waited, listened to the woman performing her routines, like he had done many times before, but this time was different. This was the big finish, le grand finale, as they said in French.
The man glanced at his reflection in the mirror on the dresser. He touched his pale skin and followed one of the veins with his finger. Then he smiled at himself. He had been looking forward to this moment for all of his life. Prepared for it, dreamt about it, arranged it into details, waiting for the right time and to be in the right place.
And the best of it? He was just starting out.
2
2012
THE OLD MRS. HEINRICHSEN let out a small shriek. The spider in her bathroom sink had startled her. They always did. She shook her head and turned on the tap. The spider tried to fight the river of water, clinging on to the slippery side as the water was threatening to flush it down the drain. Mrs. Heinrichsen watched its struggle with great joy and turned the tap to speed up the water. She grinned and sang while watching the spider fight for its life.
"The Itsy Bitsy Spider crawled up the water spout.
Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain,
And the Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the spout again."
Finally the spider gave up, lost the fight and disappeared with the water into the drain. She liked these small displays of power over nature, well she had always enjoyed them over humans as well, but the last many years the respect for her and her status on the small island had diminished. No one seemed to care who she was and had been anymore.
There was a time when it wasn't only spiders that had struggled to stay alive by her mercy. Oh how she missed those days. How she missed seeing the fear and terror in people's eyes as she strolled down the street in her new car, showing off her newest fur brought in from Paris or a jumpsuit from Milan. Those were the days, those were the times she had cherished, and would remember as her golden years.
But these days no one cared anymore. No one respected her in the manner they had done back then. To them she was just an old lady. Someone whose time was ticking down. Someone who was close to the finish line of life. The youngsters of today didn't have any respect for status or title anymore. It was all just the same baloney to them. They didn't care about her position; hell most of them hardly knew her name anymore.
Mrs. Heinrichsen finished brushing her teeth and walked back towards the bedroom. The old wooden floors of her villa creaked underneath her weight even if she could hardly make it past ninety pounds anymore. She was still a strong woman and expected to live at least twenty years more.
"Gotta make it past the one hundred," she always said. "Get the letter from the queen before you go."
It was her goal, and Mrs. Heinrichsen always reached her goals. Something she had tried to teach her son but in vain. Today they didn't care abut setting goals and reaching them, about doing what it took to make it, no matter the cost. Working to accomplish something. Nowadays it was all about how to get out of working and getting the state to pay for everything. She saw them down by the harbor, down by the boats leading to the mainland. The people who could just as well be working, hanging out, drinking their beers, with their dogs and dirty clothes. Mrs. Heinrichsen knew they got paid from the state to live that kind of life. Destitute was the nice word for them. People who couldn't take care of themselves, so the state had to. Freeloaders, Mrs. Heinrichsen would call them. They were nothing but people who didn't want to wo
rk in her book. And lately with all those newcomers, all those brown people who had almost invaded the country, even their small island. They were all being paid huge amounts from the state to get all their relatives up here, and it was about to destroy the small paradise, destroy Denmark with all their demands, under the pretense that they just wanted to be equal. How those dirty faces could ever get the thought that they were equal to the proud hardworking Danish people, she never understood. It was an atrocity. The beautiful country had been invaded by these ... these foreigners and Mrs. Heinrichsen certainly didn't like what they were turning this country in to.
Mrs. Heinrichsen entered her bedroom and sat on her bed with a sigh. It had become increasingly more and more difficult for her to sleep while lying down with her breathing troubles, and she wasn't looking forward to yet another night sitting up and sleeping. The nights had become long and painful to her lately and even if she did take a small nightcap it never quite helped her through the entire night.
"Oh, John. You bastard," she said and looked at the empty side of the bed where he used to sleep. "I bet you're up there somewhere enjoying seeing me suffer through these nights, aren't you?"
The silence from the room was answer enough. Mrs. Heinrichsen sighed once again, then leaned back on her stack of pillows and embraced herself for the night. Barely had she closed her eyes before she heard a sound. Mrs. Heinrichsen sighed annoyed and got out of the bed again with much discomfort.