Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2)

  Patrick smiled manically fantasizing about killing the girl and how the happiness in her eyes would disappear and never return. How he would shut that door of hope in her heart once she realized no one would ever be able to save her from this, how not even her precious mommy or daddy was going to be able to help her.

  But this is not the time, he thought and let go of the fantasy. He took a deep breath and remembered the smells of his childhood. Then he walked on. In the distance he spotted the grey house. His heart started racing and his step became slower. He remembered the door, the windows that he used to stare out of dreaming about the world on the outside that he would one day conquer. Dreaming about escaping the house that he had back then seen as a prison, escaping his mother's long claws that held him back, held him so tight to herself, wondering if she would ever let go of him enough so he could go out and fulfill his purpose? Reach his dreams?

  Patrick approached the house with slow steps, taking deep breaths to calm his beating heart. He was overwhelmed with a sadness that soon turned into more anger. He peeked in through the window. There she was. Right there inside the living room he spotted her. But she wasn't alone. Patrick cursed. There was a woman there with her. His mother was serving her coffee and they were talking. He mumbled and cursed again while staring at them through the window.

  Then he smiled. You'll just have to kill the both of them, now won't you?

  Chapter 59

  April 2013

  The dolls everywhere creeped me out. I was sitting in Asta Kristensen's living room and felt like the entire room was staring at me. Hundreds of sets of eyes looking at me without blinking. It was about to freak me out. Especially since the woman insisted on talking to the dolls constantly like they were alive, like they were her children.

  I sipped the coffee and wondered if I would even be able to get a decent interview out of her for the book. Was she even sane enough?

  I smiled when she offered me a home baked cookie. I took one and ate it while Asta offered all of her dolls one as well. I had to try really hard to hold back my laughter. It was so comical and weird. I bit my lip. Apparently the doll constantly on Asta's lap wanted one and it was held against her mouth while Asta made eating sounds with her mouth, then ended up eating it for the doll.

  "Was that good, Little Miss Jasmine?" she asked. The doll nodded. "Want one more?" It nodded again. "Now not too many or you'll get a tummy ache, Little Miss Jasmine. And we can't have that, now can we?"

  The doll shook its head. I recognized it from the pictures in the papers. It was the same doll that had been found after the girl disappeared. The one without hair. The one that looked like a baby. I felt a little uncomfortable, kind of like I had crashed a private party. The woman hardly spoke to me or even look at me. I grabbed another cookie from the plate.

  "No. No more for you, Little Miss Jasmine. You had your share," she said to the doll.

  I cleared my throat trying to get her attention. I succeeded. She finally looked at me. "So tell me, Miss Emma Frost. What can I do for you?"

  "Well, as I said when I knocked on the door, I'm a writer and I'm writing a book about the children that have gone missing over the years from the island. And I was wonde—"

  "Just one second," she interrupted me and turned to face the two dolls behind her. "Now stop fighting, Anna and Lotte. Don't make me come back there. Mommy's busy talking to the nice lady now. So you have to be quiet, okay?"

  The dolls stared at her with their empty eyes. "Good," Asta said and raised her finger at them. "Now behave."

  She turned to look at me again. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

  "I was just saying that I am trying to write my book and I would love to feature the mothers of the children in it as well. And I was wondering if you would like to be a part of it. I would have to do a longer interview with you about the life you had before with your daughter in the house and details about the day she disappeared and of course what happened in the days afterwards, the police investigation, the search and all that happened and then about how you are doing today. What your life is like and how often you think about your daughter, if you believe she could still be alive and so on." I sipped my coffee noticing how Asta was suddenly staring at me.

  "But Nina drowned," she said. "Why would I think she was still alive when she drowned in the ocean?"

  I swallowed hard and bit my tongue. I had said too much. After all, nothing was concluded yet, it was all just theories based on what Officer Morten and I had figured out. It was way too early to say anything to the families yet. Way too early.

  Me and my big mouth.

  I shook my head trying to save it. "No. No. Of course not. But the thing is the body was never found, so maybe you were still wondering if she could be alive. I could imagine that….as a mom myself I would be wondering….until you had closure, you know."

  She looked confused. "I'm not sure—?" She looked down at the doll in her hand. "What did you say, Little Miss Jasmine? You're getting tired. Yes, mommy's tired, too. Having guests is exhausting, isn't it?"

  "I…I didn't mean to…" I stopped myself. This wasn't going well. I got up from the couch. I was about to say something when a distant scream interrupted me. It wasn't just an ordinary scream, like children playing.

  It was a scream for help.

  Chapter 60

  April 2013

  Josephine had heard voices coming from upstairs. For the first time since she had been locked inside the cage she heard voices other than the old woman's and she had started screaming.

  Josephine didn't have much strength left after being starved for so long, but hearing the voices and footsteps so close caused her heart rate to go up and the adrenalin to rush through her body, renewing her strength, giving her the power to scream at the top of her lungs once again while hammering her fists into the bars of her cage.

  Django immediately rose to his feet and started barking at her and together they were making a lot of noise.

  "Heeeeeeeelp!" she screamed. "I'm down here. I'm in a cage. Please help me. Please HELP!"

  Josephine felt so tired she put her face on the bars while catching her breath. She looked at the door leading upstairs with anticipation, with the last small bit of hope she could gather. Oh how many times she had fantasied about being rescued, about someone other than the old lady coming through that door. And how many times she had been so deeply disappointed. Hope was all she had and she was about to run out of that, too

  There it was again. She heard the muffled voices again. This time she could hear what they said. They had to be close to the door now.

  "What was that?" someone asked.

  "I didn't hear anything," the old woman said.

  "It sounded like someone screaming."

  "Probably just the neighbor's kids playing."

  "No, someone was crying for help. It sounded like it came from inside this house," the strange voice said.

  Josephine was breathing heavily trying hard to gather enough strength to scream again. She looked at Django who had stopped barking and was now watching her while snapping his teeth at her. Josephine clung on to the small glimpse of that precious hope that she had actually managed to draw a stranger's attention and let her know she was down there.

  "I'm sure it was just the neighbors," the old woman said. "Those kids are always playing around in the yard."

  "Well maybe you're right. It did sound like it was far away."

  No. No. Don't give up. I'm down here, don't go. Please don't leave, Josephine thought. She took in a deep breath and tried hard to open her mouth and scream again. But only a small shriek left her mouth. It made Django bark again.

  "Do you have a dog?" the strange voice said in the distance. It seemed so far away now. Like in a completely other universe, Josephine thought as she closed her eyes and slowly started dozing off.

  No. No. You have to stay awake, Josephine. Don't drift away or the lady will be gone and never come back. Not now.

 
"No. That has to be the neighbors also," the old woman said.

  The voices seemed so far away now. It was like they didn't matter anymore to Josephine. It was like nothing mattered anymore.

  "Ah, okay. I see. Neighbors have lots of screaming children and a noisy dog. Must be very annoying."

  "I live with it," the old woman said.

  Come on, Josephine. You can do it. Just open your mouth and do it. Just scream. Let out any sound to let her know you're down here. It's not that hard. Just open your mouth and scream. Scream for crying out loud.

  Josephine felt her dry and cracked lips part and she took in a breath. As pictures of her mother and father and the wide sandy beach flickered before her eyes, she finally let out a sound. A small and still help me, please help me, left her lips. In her mind it sounded like she was screaming, but to the surrounding world it sounded like nothing more than her last dying breath.

  Chapter 61

  April 2013

  It was all very strange, I thought and looked at Asta standing in front of me. The screams, the dog barking. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something didn't seem right. It wasn't just all the dolls and the talking to them as if they were real. It was everything about this woman.

  Maybe I was just being paranoid. Seeing my dad's girlfriend change her attitude like that had maybe made me slightly suspicious.

  Yes, that was it.

  "I better leave now," I said.

  "Do come again another time," Asta chirped. "Little Miss Jasmine really likes you."

  I looked at Asta then turned to walk towards the front door when suddenly I spotted a bowl of dog food on the kitchen floor. And one for water right next to it. I turned on my heel to look at Asta.

  "No dog, huh?"

  "I can explain…it's for…my dolls."

  "Yeah, right," I said and stormed past her. It was about time I followed my instincts. There was something really wrong here. I thought of Victor's strange behavior in the middle of the night, I thought about the bowties that all the dolls were wearing. I couldn't put the pieces together just yet, but I knew somehow that I was close.

  I approached the door that I thought I heard the screaming coming from. A dog was definitely barking behind it now. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

  "Open it please," I said.

  Asta shook her head. "You have no right. I want you out of my house right now. This is not ri—"

  I didn't wait for her to finish the sentence. Instead I backed up, lifted my leg and kicked down the door. The old door splintered completely. Asta yelled at me but I didn't care. I walked down the stairs. I stopped as I reached the bottom. The stench made me sick to my stomach. A dog was looking at me. Behind it I saw something that made my heart stop. A little girl in a cage. I couldn't recognize her at first since she had lost a lot of weight, but as soon as I approached her I had no doubt in my mind that it was the Countess that had gone missing.

  "What the hell is going on here?" I yelled.

  The dog growled at me, but I picked up a stick and swung it to scare it off. That helped. The dog backed up. I ran to the girl in the cage. Her eyes were closed and she didn't look well. I grabbed her wrist through the bars and felt for her pulse. To my relief I found it, but it was so weak I could hardly believe she was still alive.

  "This girl needs to get to a hospital right now," I yelled.

  "I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Asta said. She had followed me down the stairs.

  "Are you insane? She'll die."

  "That was kind of the point to it all," Asta said.

  I looked at her perplexed. "Why? Why would you want to kill a young girl?"

  As I asked the question I received the answer on my own. My eyes fell on a big doll in the corner of the basement. As big as a human kid. I gasped and went closer to it to better see it. I had seen that girl before, I thought. Could it be? I studied it closely and touched it's face. The eyes were different, replaced with plastic eyes, but the rest… I backed up and felt my stomach turn. Could it be? Was this really?

  "This…this doll. This look a lot like a real child. A child I have seen on a picture. A child that went missing in 2005," I said and looked at Asta for an explanation. I don't know what I wanted from her, what I expected, but somehow I really wanted her to say that I wasn't right, that this…this doll wasn't Helle's daughter.

  Asta smiled and nodded. "Isn't she a beauty?"

  I fought hard to control my breath and not hyperventilate. "So that's what you were planning on doing to Josephine?"

  Asta smiled. "In this way they'll stay with me forever. They won't walk into the ocean and drown."

  I suddenly realized how insane this woman really was and wondered if I would be able to make it out of there alive.

  That was when a third party joined the festivities. As if things weren't strange enough already, someone came walking down the stairs wearing a big grin on his face.

  It was Patrick.

  Chapter 62

  April 2013

  I couldn't believe my eyes. What was he doing here? The most prominent TV host in the country. It felt like a dream. A surrealistic, messed up dream.

  "Isn't this nice?" he said.

  "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Asta said angrily. "You have no right to be here."

  "Well, I beg to differ," Patrick said.

  He seemed to be enjoying this a little too much, I thought.

  "Don't you know who this is?" I asked.

  Asta shook her head.

  "He's the host of the TV show Shooting Stars. His name is Patrick. Still doesn't ring a bell?"

  "No. I don't watch TV. Besides, I don't care who he is or if he is the Crown Prince himself. He has no right to invade my house and neither have you. Now all of you get out before I call the police."

  I looked at her thinking she was truly mad. She sincerely believed she was the one who needed the help from the police.

  "Not so fast," Patrick said. He looked at Asta and then back at me again. "Now this is perfect, isn't it?"

  I didn't understand where he wanted to go with this. All I could think about was the poor girl in the cage and how to get her out of there alive. "This girl needs to be taken to the hospital," I said.

  Patrick tilted his head and grinned. "The Good Samaritan, huh? Well I think it is truly perfect that you two are down here, even if it would be better with three…well we could always count the dying girl in the cage, couldn't we? Then it would be almost right. See, I always wanted to make this like the scene in Lace, you know, Lucinda Lace. That glorious scene where Elizabeth Lace turns to look at her three possible mothers and ask them: Which one of you BITCHES is my mother?"

  I stared at Patrick feeling even more like it was all just a strange dream. "What? I asked. "What the heck are you talking about? This girl is sick and needs medical attention and you're talking movies?"

  Patrick raised a finger to stop me. "Mini-series. Not a movie. There's a DIFFERENCE, people."

  Great. He had lost it, too. Maybe he'd always been crazy. Maybe he wasn't just acting on TV. Maybe he was as mad as they said. Asta took a step backwards, then started gasping for air. She stared at Patrick like he was a ghost.

  "What are you talking about, who is your mother? It makes no sense Patrick," I said then looked at Asta who was still gasping for air while holding a hand to her chest.

  "Well, it's not that I don't know which one of you is actually my mother, I just thought it would be a cool line to say," Patrick said.

  That was when it finally hit me. "You're Asta's son?"

  Patrick grinned again. Then he giggled like a schoolgirl. Asta stared at him in disbelief.

  "No," she said. "It can't be? How can it be?"

  "Oh my god," I said as the rest of the puzzle finally came together. "You're Nina? I mean you used to be Nina? You're a girl?"

  "Gotcha!" Patrick said.

  "I can't believe it," Asta said. Her voice was getting thick now. "You've come back? My little girl?
Nina? My…my…Baby doll?"

  Patrick's eyes sparkled with fire as he heard the last words. "Don't call me that! You gave away the right to call me that ever again when you gave me away to those horrible people."

  "Gave you away?" Asta looked confused. "I don't understand. I didn't give you away. I would never give you away."

  "Yes! Yes, you did. They told me so themselves. They all told me you didn't want me anymore, that you had sent me away because you couldn't handle me anymore. And I hate you for doing that. I loathe you for leaving me with those people."

  "I don't understand. Nina you must—"

  "Patrick. I'm Patrick now. Nina is gone."

  Asta moaned, she bent over holding a hand to her stomach. "I can't… This is too much…I don't…I don't understand. They told me you had drowned, Nina. The police told me you had walked down to the beach and walked into the water thinking you could make it to the small island but then the tides must have taken you. We searched for days for you. I thought you were dead. I swear."

  He shook his head. "I don't believe you. You destroyed my life." He pointed at her with a shaking finger. His voice was trembling. "If only you knew what I went through, how I was…how I was abused. All these men, groping me, touching me in places I didn't even know I had, telling me I wasn't worth more than this, that my mother had abandoned me so they could teach me a lesson, teach me how to behave."

  Asta held a hand to her chest. I could tell she was in pain and ran towards her. I managed to grab her just as she fainted. Patrick stared at her, then at me.

  "Help me, Patrick. It looks like a heart attack. We need to get her and the girl to the hospital."

  Chapter 63

  April 2013

  Patrick felt confused. He was staring at the woman and his mother who was unconscious on the floor not quite knowing what to do next. The woman knew who he was so he had to kill her, of course. And his mother as well since that was the entire purpose of coming here in the first place. But somehow it just didn't seem satisfying enough. His mother wasn't even awake to feel the pain that he had been looking forward to inflicting upon her for so very long. It just wasn't right. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.