"Yes. I believe it is. He went missing last night…I…is he alright?"
"Well, let's see…He is in the middle of robbing a bank and has taken the manager hostage in there. You’re asking if he is alright? I don't think I care much about that right now."
"I beg your pardon?" I asked and looked at the officer, terrified. "Victor would never do anything like that."
"That's what all parents say. Nevertheless, that's what’s happening here. Your son is in the bank with a bomb around his chest, holding the manager hostage."
"Have you tried to talk to him?" I asked.
"We have. But it's impossible. He keeps screaming. It was an employee that discovered them this morning when he got to work. He heard the boy screaming and looked through the window and saw the manager on the floor, lying with his arms over his head, yelling for the boy to spare his life."
"But, Victor would never threaten anyone," I argued. This was all so strange. How could Victor threaten anyone? He lived in a world of his own and didn't care anything about money.
"Can I talk to him?"
"Yes. Please do. But, be careful. I'll get you the megaphone."
"No. I want to go in there and talk to him. Face to face."
"That's not possible. He is way too dangerous," the officer said.
"My son is not dangerous. It's all just a big misunderstanding."
"I believe he has a history of mental illness, is that true?" the officer asked.
"Yes, that is true. But that doesn't mean he is dangerous."
"But it does mean he can be quite unpredictable, am I right? Has he acted threateningly before? Someone told me he recently showed pictures of decapitated heads in school, is that right?"
Oh my God. I can't believe this guy.
"Listen. Victor is eight years old. Yes, he has his issues, but he is not dangerous. Now would you please let me walk in there and talk to my son? You know what? I don't care if you let me do it or not. I'm going in there whether you want me to or not. You'll have to shoot me to stop me."
I turned on my heel and started walking.
"Wait," the officer yelled after me.
I didn't stop. Nothing and no one was going to stop me from getting to my son and saving him from this situation. The officer ran after me and caught up with me.
"I'm sending two of my men in with you," he said.
I snorted as my answer and continued my walk towards the back entrance of the bank. The two officers were right behind me as I grabbed the door and pulled it open.
63
February 2014
I COULD HEAR VICTOR screaming when I opened the door. I spotted him in the middle of the room, where he was standing with his hands covering his ears, screaming at the top of his lungs. On the floor, I saw the manager on his knees, pleading for his life.
"Please. I'm about to become a grandfather. Please, just let me go."
I looked at Victor and saw that he was having one of his many tantrums. "Victor," I said. "Victor, calm down, sweetie."
Victor stopped screaming. He didn't look at me, but kept staring at the floor. He seemed to have drawn back into his own world and that was when it was so difficult to reach him. It often happened when he was scared or emotional, like when his dad left us. I breathed deeply, being careful not to scare him.
I reached down and tapped the manager on the shoulder. "You can leave now," I said. "I've got him. He never meant to harm you."
The manager looked at me, then at Victor before he rushed out the door, whimpering. I heard people applaud when he got outside.
This is not happening. This is not happening to us.
The two officers were still pointing their guns at Victor and I had to choose my words and moves very carefully. Besides, I had no idea where the detonator to the bomb was or if it might go off at any moment. Was there a timer on it, like in the movies? Or was the killer waiting to get me close enough before he detonated it and killed all of us? I tried hard not to think about it.
"Victor?" I said. "Victor, buddy. It's me."
He didn't move and still didn't look at me.
"Look at me, Victor. Please, just look at me."
Finally, he lifted his head and looked into my eyes. "There you go, buddy. Now I'm going to get closer to you and take a look at that vest you're wearing, alright? We need to get it off of you before something bad happens, alright?"
Victor started humming. That was a bad sign. He was scared. The officer to my right reacted abruptly.
"Don't," I said. "No sudden moves. He's scared to death. That's why he hums."
I walked closer with my hand stretched out towards Victor. "I'm coming closer now. And I need to touch you, Victor. I know you don't like that, but I have to. I need to get the vest off of your body. Can I do that? Am I allowed to touch you Victor?"
He didn't answer, but I moved closer anyway. I figured there wasn't much time to lose. I had to move fast. I reached out and grabbed his shirt and pulled it up to better see.
Next thing, Victor screamed again. Hysterically, he screamed at the top of his lungs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the officer to my left hurry forward, pointing his gun at Victor and yelling in panic.
"He's gonna detonate the bomb!"
"Doooon't!" I screamed.
It happened in a split second and there was no way I could have acted differently. The police officer moved his finger on the trigger and was about to shoot at Victor when I jumped him and the shot went off into the roof with a loud sound.
It was pure chaos after that. Victor was screaming even louder now, the officer was yelling at me. I got up and ran to Victor, then without caring how loud he screamed or how much he cried, I pulled off his shirt and tore off the vest. I threw it on the floor, lifted Victor into my arms and carried him outside.
The crowd went silent when I came out carrying my son in my arms. I spotted Morten next to the officer in charge. I walked towards him.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"The bomb is still inside," I said. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm taking my son home."
64
January 2008
THEY HAD TO TELL him. But how? Alexandra and Poul had discussed it all the way back from City Hall.
"It's going to break his heart," Alexandra had said.
They decided to wait till after dinner. They picked Samuel and Olivia up at Alexandra's mom's place and drove home, then Alexandra prepared all of Samuel's favorite dishes and put Olivia to bed.
With a heavy heart, she walked downstairs where Poul and Samuel were watching TV. She stopped at the end of the stairs and watched them sitting on the couch together. They too had become closer the last several months. Alexandra had never thought they would be this close again; she had almost given up on them, but ever since Ole had started counseling Samuel, that too had changed.
Was he strong enough to be on his own now? Would he be able to use the techniques that Ole had taught him on his own when things were bad?
"Damn those stupid rules and regulations," Alexandra grumbled.
She took in a deep breath, then walked into the living room. Poul turned off the TV. Samuel looked at Alexandra.
"We need to talk," she said. "Your dad and I have something important to tell you."
Samuel looked confused. "What? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"
Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "No sweetie. This is not your fault. You're fine. You have been very good lately."
"And we know that a lot of it has to do with Ole and the time you're spending with him," Poul continued.
Alexandra exhaled deeply. How she hated this moment. How she loathed having to do this to the boy.
"Then what is it?" Samuel asked. "What's going on?"
"It hurts me to have to tell you this, Sammy, but I'm afraid you can't see Ole anymore," Alexandra finally said.
"We are so sorry," Poul said.
Alexandra watched as her sweet boy stared at her in disbelief. "Can't see him anymo
re? But…but what does that mean? Why?"
"We understand you're confused and feeling upset about this," Poul said. "We know how much you loved swimming with him."
Samuel rose from the couch. His eyes were fixated on Alexandra. "So why won't you let me go there anymore? Why won't you let me be happy?"
Alexandra's heart was beating fast in fear. Samuel's pitch-black eyes were staring at her with deep anger.
"Relax, son," Poul said.
"Don't tell me to relax!" he yelled. "It's you, isn't it?" Samuel asked and pointed at Alexandra. "You did this, didn't you? You don't want me to be happy."
Alexandra gasped. "No! No! Samuel. Why would you say such a horrible thing? Of course I didn't do this, it was…"
"I don't care!" Samuel yelled. He grabbed a vase sitting on the end table next to the couch and threw it against the wall, smashing it with a loud crash. Alexandra gasped again. Tears filled her eyes.
Why God? Why did this have to happen? Everything was going so well. Why did you have to ruin it? Is it to punish us?
"I hate you!" Samuel yelled and pointed his finger at her. "You're stupid. You ruin everything!"
Alexandra felt Poul's hand in hers and, as Samuel grabbed a lamp and threw it at her, Poul pulled her out of the room.
65
February 2014
I BROUGHT VICTOR HOME in my car and tried to help him calm down by singing some of the songs he used to like to hear. I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. Tears of relief that he was safe, tears of fear of what might have happened and tears of anger for what this bastard had put upon me and my family. I thought about all the kinds of revenge I could come up with while driving us home. Once I parked the car in the driveway, I turned in my seat and looked at Victor. He was lying down, staring emptily into the ceiling, whimpering, crying, and shaking.
I tried to fight my tears, but they wouldn't stop. "Victor, buddy. We're home. We're safe."
"Don't touch me," he mumbled. "Don't touch me!"
"No one is going to touch you. Not anymore. I promise you that," I said, my voice breaking. "No one."
But nothing seemed to get through to him. No matter what I said. He had gone into a state of shock or anxiety and I couldn't rip him out of it. All I could do was to give him time. Time and space. But first, I had to get him inside the house somehow and he wasn't responding to anything I said to him. There was only one solution and he wasn't going to like it.
I got out of the car and pulled Victor out of the back seat and carried him back inside, not caring that he was screaming.
"I'm sorry, Victor. I know I promised not to touch you, but I have to get you inside," I said, while tears rolled down my cheeks. I hated to see him like this. It was awful. It was beyond that. It was ghastly.
"Calm down, sweetie. I'm just helping you get inside," I said. "It's all going to be alright. You can play in the backyard with your trees all day if you like."
The talk of his trees seemed to calm him down a little. I managed to get him inside the house and put him on the couch in the living room. My mom came towards me when she heard me enter.
"Oh my God. How is he?"
"In shock, I think." I found a blanket and covered his body. He crumbled up and turned his back to me. "I think we'll let him rest a little. Where is Dad?" I asked, as soon as we had gotten out of the living room.
"He had to go. Something to do with a patient. He told me he’s doing a little dentist work on the side. I told him everything you told me on the phone on your way back and, as soon as he knew you were both fine, I told him it was alright if he left. He'll be back later," she said and, suddenly, I spotted something in her eyes I hadn't seen in a long time.
"Will he now? So are you two, all of a sudden, best buddies?" I asked.
"Well. We did spend the night on the couch together. It was really nice. We talked for hours before we fell asleep. It was really nice, Emma. I had forgotten how much I love him, how much I enjoy his company. Ah, what have I been doing with my life, huh?"
"Don't ask me."
"I know. I've been a fool, haven't I? I had this great guy who loved me and I thought I wanted to go out and live my life. Well, I tell you Emma, it's all over now. No more running away. I'm going to stay here on the island and see how things turn out with your father."
My eyes almost popped out of my head. That's how it felt. "Really?"
"Yes. It’s time for us to grow up, don't you think?"
I chuckled. "Well…"
"Arh, what do you know? You're still so young. You'll go through stuff one day too, you know. Then you'll understand."
"I feel like I'm going through stuff constantly lately," I said, as I exhaled.
"Oh gosh, Emma. I'm so sorry. You must be exhausted. This has been a rough time for you. Let me make you some coffee and maybe something to eat?"
"As long as it is not any of your organic or gluten-free food," I said with a chuckle.
"Scouts’ honor," my mom said and held up two fingers in the air.
I opened the door to the kitchen and we both entered, laughing. Then I stopped. What I saw made my heart stop. Maya was sitting at the table with a piece of paper in her hand. Next to her was the empty white envelope.
"Hi, Maya," my mother chirped. "You want something to eat as well?"
Maya lifted her eyes from the paper and stared at me. The look in those eyes was a horrific mixture of deep disappointment and furor.
"What's this?" she asked me.
I walked closer. "I…Maya…I…," I had no idea what to say to her. I hadn't even read the letter myself.
A tear left the corner of her eye. Then she spoke the words that I had dreaded hearing so much.
"Dad is not my real father?"
66
February 2014
"MAYA…I…"
"When were you going to tell me?" she interrupted.
"I don't know…I didn't even read the letter yet. I put it in the drawer…"
"Where I found it and saw my name on the envelope. Why would you have such a test taken without my knowledge?"
"Well, I thought there was no need for you to know about this. I mean, if it turned out Michael was your father, then you didn't need to know, right?"
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to know this? I have a dad. I don't need someone else, who I’ve never even heard of. Who is this…Erik Gundtofte? What kind of name is that even? It's stupid. Just like him."
Maya got up from her chair. My mother was looking at us with wide open eyes. "What is going on here, Emma?" she asked. "Michael isn't Maya's father?"
"This is none of your business," I said.
Maya looked at her grandmother. Then she threw herself at her. My mom hugged her and petted her head, while Maya cried her heart out.
My mother stroked her hair a couple of times. Then Maya turned towards me. "I hate you!" she yelled and grabbed her jacket before she stormed out of the house. I was about to run after her when my mother stopped me.
"Let her blow off steam. She'll probably just go to a friend's house. Don't worry. Give her some space."
I started crying. My mom hugged me. "I’ve made such a mess of things, Mom. I can't seem to do anything right!"
"There, there. It's going to be alright. Just you wait and see."
"I'm so glad you're here, Mom. I really need you now," I said.
"And I’m not going anywhere."
I sniffled and pulled away from her. I sat on a chair while she prepared food for me. Two pieces of rye bread. One with paté and the other with herrings in curry sauce. My favorite.
"Thanks," I said, while I ate. I had gotten really hungry.
"No problem," she said.
"What are you going to do about Arne?" I asked, in order to think about something else. I was worried about both Maya and Victor now. Morten had called me while I was in the car and said that the bomb wasn't a real bomb. It was a decoy, a fake. The killer hadn't wanted to blow any of us up. He wa
nted us to be in that situation…much like the one from the train. I was hoping that Morten and his colleagues would finally get a breakthrough in the case today while going through the crime scene at the bank, but my phone had been awfully quiet.
"Well I'll have to break the news to him, won't I?" she asked. "Do the respectable thing and tell him gently that it’s over."
"I hope he won't be too heartbroken and pee on our mail or anything," I said.
My mother laughed. "No. He won't do anything like that. He's a good man, Emma. Not that I know how to spot one even though he’s been right next to me for years, right?"
I shrugged. "Well, you see him now. And you married him in the first place, didn't you. You just got a little lost along the way. That happens."
"Could you ever see yourself getting together with Michael again?" my mom asked.
I shook my head. "That’s different. He has a new wife now and a child. He's leading an entirely new life and hardly even calls to talk to the kids anymore. He's out of the picture. "
"Well, you never know," my mom said and opened a beer for me.
"So, when are you planning on telling Arne?" I asked, as I took a sip. That hit the spot. Herrings and a beer was one of my favorite combinations. It helped me relax a little, as well.
"Well, he usually comes by around noon with the mail, right? I think I'll make him a cup of coffee."
"Give him the right stuff. Or else you'll give him a reason to get really mad," I said with a grin.
67
January 2008
SAMUEL MANAGED TO TRASH the entire living room before he locked himself inside of his room and finally went quiet. Alexandra and Poul stayed in their own bedroom until he was done, then snuck downstairs and looked at the damage. Alexandra clapped her hand against her mouth in distress and gasped.
"Oh my God. He’s destroyed everything, Poul."