SLENDERMAN

EMMA FROST #9
WILLOW ROSE
Someone’s always watching me
Someone’s always there
When I’m sleeping he just waits,
and he stares

Someone’s always standing in

the darkest corner of my room
He’s tall and wears a suit in black,
dressed like the perfect groom

Where are you going?

Why won’t you stay?
They might be scared of you,
but I just want to play

He has no face
He hides with the trees
He loves little children when they beg and scream…
Please!

S L E NDY ’ S LUL L A BY BY L I LY P I C H U
H T T P S : // WWW.YOUT U B E .COM /S L E NDY ' S LUL L A BY
 PROLOGUE

NOVEMBER 2014

S omeone was watching him. Rasmus Krohn was happy to finally

see his friend again. He turned his head and glared at the door to his
bedroom, to make sure no one was awake in the house other than
him. It was one in the morning. They should all be asleep.
Rasmus turned his head to face the screen again. With much
eagerness, he let his fingers dance across the keyboard.
>Hi there. Where have you been?<
>Hello<
Rasmus thought he heard a sound, and turned to look at the door
once again. He held his breath. Someone was in the hallway
outside. He followed the steps as they walked across the carpet. It
sounded like his father. The steps were heavy, not like his mother’s
that were usually light because she would be tiptoeing in order to not
wake up the kids. Rasmus followed the sound of the steps and
breathed in relief when they passed his door and continued towards
the bathroom. There was a bump, then his father complaining and
cursing. After that, the door was closed. Rasmus breathed again. He
turned off the small lamp on his desk next to the computer. The light
coming from under his door could reveal him.
He received a new message from his friend.
>Are you ready?<
Rasmus looked at the blinking message on the bottom of the
screen. He heard his dad flush the toilet and the water start running.
The old man cursed again, probably bumped his toe or his head, as
usual, the drunk. Rasmus held his breath as his dad opened the
door to the bathroom and entered the hallway again. He turned down
the light on the screen to low and sat in darkness. Rasmus’s dad
walked across the carpet outside, then stopped. Rasmus’s heart was
pounding in his chest. He could sense his dad was right outside his
door now.
Would he come in to check on him? Or to pull him out of bed and
start beating on him like last time?
His parents had told Rasmus so many times not to use his
computer at night. Especially on a school night. His dad would be
furious if he found out.
The seconds that passed felt like years. Everything inside of him
was screaming. If his father walked through that door and found him
by the computer, it was all over. They would take the computer away,
they had told him…even though Rasmus had saved up for it and
paid for it on his own. It wasn’t good for him, his mother said.
As if she has any idea what’s good for me! She doesn’t even
know how to take care of herself, let alone her children.
Rasmus stared at the bed and wondered if he could make it over
there if the door handle moved. He could sense his dad was out
there still. He even believed he could smell the booze on his breath.
Just go to bed, you fucking drunk. Leave me alone. Leave all of
us alone!
Rasmus’s hands were shaking when he remembered what had
happened the last time his father had come through that door at
night. He still had the bruise on his back from the baseball bat.
Just go back to bed, you asshole! Find someone else to bother.
He felt the rage rising inside of him. The humiliation was the
worst; the fact that he still couldn’t fight back was painful. At the age
of fifteen, Rasmus was still scrawny. No one took him seriously. No
one regarded him as anyone. But soon, they would. He was going to
make sure of that.
The steps moved on across the carpet and Rasmus breathed
again. He heard the door to his parents’ bedroom shut and
everything go quiet again. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the
chair for a few seconds before he turned up the light on the screen
again. The expressionless white face of the tall and slender man
stared back at him from behind the screen. He had written a new
message.
>It’s time<
 1

NOVEMBER 2014

Imyhadhouse
tiptoed around the cigar box for two weeks now. I was back in
after the renovation which followed the fire, and sitting in
my wonderful new kitchen with a coffee and a pastry, staring at the
box on the table in front of me.
I hadn’t opened it yet.
The construction workers gave it to me after we were allowed to
move back in. One of the men handed it to me, telling me he had no
idea what else to do with it.
“We found it when we fixed the roof. It fell out when we removed
the old wood and replaced it with the new,” he said.
The man in the yellow helmet followed his statement with a
shrug, and I took the old dirty box out of his hands. It had been with
me ever since. I had taken it in my purse with me everywhere, and
taken it out now and then to look at it, but never opened it. Not yet, at
least.
“Aren’t you curious?” Morten had asked several times when he
caught me staring at it. “Why don’t you take a look?”
“I’m extremely curious,” I answered.
Yet, I still hadn’t dared to open it. It wasn’t like me at all. What
was I afraid of? I asked myself over and over. I didn’t know. I kind of
felt like the box didn’t belong to me. Like I was intruding somehow on
someone’s personal life. Like I was supposed to find its original
owners and give it back. But I had no idea who they were. I didn’t
even know if anyone would care enough about it to want it back. It
wasn’t an ordinary box. Anyone could tell it wasn’t. It was dusty and
dirty from being up there under the roof behind the wood. Someone
had cared enough about it to hide it well for many years. Maybe it
was of importance to that person. Maybe I was violating this person’s
need to keep whatever was in it hidden?
The thought only made me more curious.
I touched the front again and ran my hand across it. On the cover
was a handwritten name in cursive.
Larsen
“Maybe it belonged to your grandmother?” Morten had asked, but
it wasn’t my family’s name. It wasn’t even my grandmother’s maiden
name. I didn’t know any Larsen. It was a pretty common name here
in Denmark, so it could be anyone.
I tapped my fingers on the kitchen table and sipped my coffee. I
had decided that today would be the day when I finally opened the
lid. My fingers marched across the top.
Just a little peek won’t hurt anyone.
I tried telling myself that maybe by opening it I could figure out to
whom it belonged and maybe get it back to the rightful owners. It just
seemed so private. My fingers touched the front once again and
stroked it gently, while I wondered what great things could be in
there. I kind of enjoyed having my own little fantasy about what it
would reveal, and some part of me was really afraid to be
disappointed as well. Maybe that was why I hadn’t opened it yet.
Maybe I was simply afraid of ruining the illusion. I was afraid of
finding cooking recipes or grocery lists or something boring. I wanted
this to be special. That was also why I waited till the house was
empty before I finally lifted the lid with the tips of my fingers. I held
my breath as I finally pulled it off. I was about to close it again,
thinking I had no right to be going through it, but curiosity won. After
all, it could just be cooking recipes, and then no one would feel like I
had invaded their private life. Maybe there were even some I could
use?
Slowly, I looked inside. My heart was pounding in my chest as I
pulled out a stack of letters, all neatly bound together with a ribbon. I
put the letters on the table and took in a deep breath. Carefully, I
untied the ribbon. All the letters were addressed to the same person,
my grandmother. I opened one and started reading the contents.
Two pages fully written from top to bottom in cursive using blue ink.
A date was at the top.
March 22nd 1959.
I read the first sentence out loud to myself.
“Dearest sister. He is the most beautiful child in the world.”
 2

MARCH 1959

H e is the most beautiful child in the world. I can’t believe how lucky
I am. Oh, sister. I wish you were here with me. You’d be as
enchanted as I am.
Helle Larsen glanced at her baby, who was sleeping in the crib
next to her desk at the nursery where she was writing her letter. She
couldn’t believe how good he had been. Only three weeks old, and
already sleeping through the night. He was nothing like his brothers.
They had kept her up all night for weeks until she finally let them cry
through the night. It wasn’t something she had enjoyed; as a matter
of fact, it was the worst part about having a baby. To have to ignore
them night after night till they finally gave up. If it had been Helle’s
choice, she would have kept going in to the nursery to take care of
them to make sure they didn’t feel left alone, but both the nurse and
her mother had told her this was the way to do it. This was the way
they had done it for years. It was best for her, they said. That way,
she would get her rest, and the children would know who was in
charge.
“After a few weeks, they’ll figure it out,” Helle’s mother had said.
“If you keep going in there every night, they’ll keep crying. It’s very
simple. If you don’t come, they give up.”
So, now that Per already slept through the night, and had done
so for almost a week, Helle hoped she wouldn’t have to go through
the same process as with the two others. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be
necessary.
 “Helle!”
Her husband was calling from downstairs. Helle finished the
letter, put it in an envelope and put her sister’s name and address on
it before she hurried out of the nursery, careful not to wake up her
sleeping son. She rushed down the stairs. Her husband Claes was
standing in the kitchen with his muddy boots planted on her newly
washed floors.
“Where’s my lunch?” he yelled.
“It’s in the refrigerator, ready for you,” she said, and ran to the
refrigerator and pulled out a plate with four slices of rye bread with
four different toppings. One with herring and onions, one with liver
pate, one with mackerel, and one with cheese.
Claes growled and took the plate out of her hand.
“I didn’t know when you were coming in,” she argued, to excuse
herself for his lunch not being on the table. Her husband was with
the animals all day, or in the fields of their farm, and only had a short
time to eat. And it was never at the same time that he decided it was
time to eat. He was always busy and always grumpy.
Helle never took much notice of his moods, especially not since
she had the baby. Nothing in the world could make her unhappy
these days. Not even Claes’ growling or complaining.
“What, no egg today? What about pork roast? You know how
much I love the pork roast.”
“I thought you’d like something else today, so I gave you
mackerel instead,” she said, listening carefully in case Per woke up.
She missed him so much when he was sleeping. “The doctor told me
fish is so good for you.”
Claes grumbled while he ate. It had been a long time since Helle
had lost any interest she might have had in the man, and now she
felt less than ever for him. But, he provided well for the family, and
with that she was content. He worked hard on their farm and gave
her a life where she could take care of her three sons without having
to work much, other than help him out here and there with the
feeding of the pigs and such. Helle poured Claes a schnapps to go
with the herring. It stopped the growling.
“Where are Ulrik and Peter?” she asked. The two older boys
always helped out around the farm on weekends when they didn’t
have school. Helle had prepared lunches for them as well, and put
them in the fridge.
The mention of their names made the growling come back. Claes
chewed loudly, smacking his mouth, sounding much like the pigs in
the pen. He’d even started to look like one over the years, she
thought to herself with a grin.
“I told them to run their bikes down to old Hansen and ask him if
he needs any help.”
Claes growled and ate some more. Helle regained some of her
affection for the man and remembered why she had liked him when
they got married. He was very generous beneath that grumpy
exterior. He could be so considerate. Old Hansen had recently
slipped and hurt his hip, and he had no sons to take over the farm
after him, or to take care of him when he needed it. Claes
desperately needed the boys’ help around his own farm, so it was a
huge gesture on his part.
“That was nice of you,” she said. “They’ll eat when they get
back.”
Just as she had said those last words, she heard Per cry from
upstairs and rushed up to get him, while smiling at the prospect of
being able to spend time with her baby again.
 3

NOVEMBER 2014

U lrik Larsen was sitting on his couch waiting for the nurse to arrive.
He glared at the picture next to the TV. Elsebeth was smiling back at
him from behind the glass.
“What are you smiling at?” he growled.
She had left him a year ago and, ever since, life hadn’t been
much worth living. Still, he had to do it. He had to finish the race.
Even if it meant becoming as helpless as a baby again. Life had a
way with irony, hadn’t it? Here he was at the end of his life, and he
couldn’t even go to the bathroom alone. They had given him a
diaper. He peed through a hole in the side into a small plastic bag
that they changed every morning and evening.
At least they hadn’t put him in a home yet. He was grateful for
that. It was part of a new politic, his daughter had explained to him.
They wanted the elderly to stay in their homes for as long as
possible, so instead they would send a nurse twice a day. In the
morning to get him out of bed, remove the diaper and change the
bag, then one again in the evening to put him to bed. During the day,
he didn’t do much except sleep. The city sent someone else over
with food on a small tray…enough for three meals during the day.
Tasteless colorless food. All he had to do was throw it in the oven or
microwave and heat it up. They did everything to make his life as
pleasant as possible, they said.
Ulrik would have preferred death.
 The only fun he occasionally had was when he grabbed a nurse’s
behind with a loud laugh, or when he pretended to be senile and
tried to kiss them while calling them his wife’s name. After a little
while, they caught on to him and started sending male nurses
instead. That was the end of the fun.
Ulrik coughed and snarled. Where was that nurse? Usually, they
arrived around nine p.m., but it was at least fifteen minutes past.
They were never on time, but this was too much. Ulrik pulled himself
up from the couch and walked across the floor of his old villa that he
had shared for thirty years with Elsebeth before she decided to leave
him. On the dining table that he never used anymore stood old
withered bouquets of flowers and cards lined up telling him happy
birthday. It was two months ago that his daughter had surprised him
on his sixty-eighth birthday, along with her husband and children.
Ulrik never liked surprises much, and he had hated this one in
particular. It was his first without Elsebeth, and he didn’t feel much
like celebrating. When they had arrived in the doorway with balloons
and flowers and food in their arms, he told them he wanted them to
leave. But, as usual, his daughter didn’t listen to her old man.
“Ah, don’t be so dull,” she had said, and stormed past him,
starting to decorate the house while her good-for-nothing husband
had started heating the food in the kitchen. Ulrik had tried to make
them go away, and even tried growling at the grandchildren, but with
no luck. Then, he had turned on the TV and turned up the sound,
refusing to leave his favorite place on the couch for as long as the
celebration lasted.
He grabbed his walker and walked with it towards the kitchen. He
thought of the many nights Elsebeth had prepared coffee for them
and always gave him a small butter cookie on the side. Sometimes—
especially around Christmas—she would even give him a small
piece of marzipan. Oh, how he missed those days. The small
gestures of affection that he forgot to thank her for. He hadn’t had a
cookie or any marzipan since. He didn’t even want to celebrate
Christmas this year, much to his daughter and grandchildren’s
surprise.
“But, Dad, you have to come. We’ll have fun. You don’t have to
buy any presents. We’d just like to be with you,” his daughter Annie
kept telling him.
But he wasn’t going. He was waiting for death, and there was
nothing to celebrate about that.
Holding on to his walker, Ulrik managed to get himself to the
window to look outside to see if he could spot the nurse’s car, but the
street was empty. Maybe they had forgotten about him? It had
happened once before. They had made all kinds of excuses the next
day and told him they were very busy and they had many elderly
who needed their attention, so he had to cut them some slack. Ulrik
had ended up sitting in his own feces all night long on the couch,
unable to do anything about it. He hadn’t thought it called for him to
cut them any slack. But what could he do? Like a baby depended on
his mother, so did he depend on their help.
In anger, Ulrik turned to walk back to the couch, fearing that was
where he would end up spending the night, since he couldn’t get into
his bed on his own. As he made the turn, he stared into a white
expressionless face.
Finally, death had come for him, he thought, but much to his
regret, he didn’t feel the satisfaction he had thought he would feel in
this moment. It wasn’t a feeling of relief that had taken ahold of him.
In the seconds the knife sunk into his chest, he was grabbed by a
strange fear, and his entire body protested at having to leave now.
He let go of the walker and tried to grab out at death standing in front
of him. Desperately, he tried to scream, to call for help as he heard
the nurse’s car drive into the driveway. But he knew it was in vain. It
was too late. His time had come. As the tall and slender faceless
creature in the black suit in front of him pulled out the knife just to
stab it into Ulrik’s chest once again, he knew it was too late. Death
had finally caught up with him, and it wasn’t at all as pleasant as it
was cracked up to be.
 4

NOVEMBER 2014

Imywaschildren
completely swallowed up by the letters, and kept reading until
came home from school. The construction workers were
still working on my façade and had put a ladder up in front of my
kitchen window. I heard Victor throw his bike, then his steps on the
stairs and the front door opening. Victor ran to his seat at the kitchen
table and sat down.
“Where is my food?”
I put the letters back in the box, and then sprang up. The
memories of Helle Larsen’s life lingering with me still as I buttered
some toasted bread for him and topped it with strawberry jelly. I
served the bread, then made some chocolate milk for him.
“So, how was your day?” I asked.
“You asked me that yesterday.”
Of course. That was always his answer. I had to try something
new. “Did you learn anything new?”
“I never learn anything new,” he responded.
I buttered a piece of toasted bread for myself and thought about
Helle Larsen preparing afternoon-tea for her family back in ’59.
Things were really different back then, but a lot remained the same.
They had eaten toasted bread with butter and marmalade back then
as well.
The door opened again and Maya entered. I smiled. She looked
tired. “Rough day, honey?”
 She grumbled and threw her backpack on the floor. Things were
becoming more and more normal with her lately. Since Dr.
Sonnichsen had started working with her, she was gradually
improving with every day that passed. She was becoming more and
more herself. Even the grumbling and rolling of the eyes was back. I
started to regret ever having missed it, but it was a healthy sign, and
that made me happy.
“I hate school!” she said, as I placed her toast in front of her. She
looked up. “I’m not gonna eat that. How old do you think I am?”
I shrugged and sat down. I took a bite of my own toast. It tasted
wonderful.
“It’s filled with carbs,” she said.
I chuckled. Yup, she was definitely back to normal again. Well,
almost. She still had some huge gaps in her memory that I sincerely
hoped she would regain. It was frustrating for her from time to time,
especially when talking to friends, that she couldn’t remember things
they had done together. Her short-term memory worked perfectly,
but her childhood, and especially the time up until the car-accident,
she had almost no recollection of. She remembered her father losing
control and hitting both Maya and his new wife. That was why she
had run away. But other than that, she remembered nothing. I was
unsure if she was ever going to. Dr. Sonnichsen had told me she
might block it all out because of how traumatic it had been for her,
and that it would come back to her if she ever let it, if she felt like she
was ready to deal with it. For some, it never came back.
“You want me to make something else for you?” I asked.
“You have jelly on your teeth, Mom,” she snarled. “It looks gross.”
I smiled widely to show it to her better. She made a grimace and I
laughed.
“That is so disgusting, Mom.” Maya got up. “I’m going to my
room.”
“You’re not eating?” I asked, finally licking the jelly off of my teeth.
I was worried about Maya. She was hardly eating lately. “I can make
you something else. Maybe some yogurt? Or a banana?”
She shook her head. “I’m good. Dr. Sonnichsen is going to be
here in an hour, and I want to go on the computer before she gets
here.”
 “So now the computer is more important than eating?” I asked.
“What about spending time with your family?”
She scoffed. “What family? You’re always with Morten. And my
dad? Well, I don’t even really know who he is, do I?”
“You have a father. Michael is your father,” I argued, but wasn’t
convincing.
“We both know that isn’t true,” she said. “I don’t even want to see
him anymore. There’s no reason to.”
I couldn’t argue against that. He wasn’t her real father, and after
what he had done to her, I wasn’t going to let him into her life
anytime soon anyway. Michael was desperately trying to get custody
of Victor, even though he hadn’t shown much interest in the boy over
the last several years. So far, he didn’t have much of a case, and I
wasn’t giving him one.
“Well, you need to eat at some point. You didn’t have any
breakfast either. Did you eat anything at school at all?”
Maya didn’t answer. She grabbed her backpack and stormed out
of the kitchen. Seconds later, I heard her slam the door to her room.
She had been on the computer a lot lately, and I hadn’t decided
whether I thought it was a good idea or not. She seemed to be
shutting out the world and everyone who loved her.
 5

NOVEMBER 2014

H er bags were heavy. At the age of sixty-nine, Jonna Frederiksen

wasn’t as strong as she used to be. Carrying her grocery bags to her
bike alone was getting more and more difficult, but she did it. Jonna
refused to let her age define her. She was still strong; she rode her
bike downtown every day, where she went shopping or ran errands.
She cooked for herself, and never had any outside help. She was in
great health for her age, Dr. Williamsen told her every year at her
yearly check-up. Her eyes weren’t what they used to be, so she
could no longer drive her car, but that didn’t bother Jonna much. She
loved riding her bike across Nordby and greeting her neighbors, as
well as the tourists she met on her way. She loved the strong sea
breeze and the smell of seaweed.
She walked out of the sliding doors of SuperBrugsen and put her
grocery bag and purse in the basket on her bike. Then, she counted
on her fingers. Six items. She knew she had to get six items today.
“Milk, coffee, a Swiss roll, lamb chops, green beans and
potatoes.” Yes she had everything she needed. Jonna never made a
list before going to the store. That way, she was forced to remember
what she needed. She just counted the items she needed to get,
then forced herself to remember what they were. It was her way of
keeping dementia as far away as possible. That was the only thing
Jonna ever feared…losing her mind and not be able to remember
her loved ones. Her mother had suffered from dementia for years
before she died. Jonna was determined to never let it happen to her.
 Jonna found the key and unlocked the chain on her bike. As she
was about to pull the bike out onto the sidewalk, a car suddenly
drove past her, then stopped and backed up. A woman jumped out
of the car and approached Jonna. She was tall and had broad
shoulders. Jonna hadn’t seen her before in the area and believed
her to be a tourist. The woman had a map in her hand and started
speaking in bad Danish.
“Please help me,” she said. She put the map on the front of the
car and asked Jonna to come closer and look at the map with her.
“Please. Could you help? I need to find Mindevej.”
Jonna scoffed. She looked skeptically at the woman. “There is no
such thing as Mindevej here on the island,” she said.
“Yes, yes,” the woman kept saying. “Mindevej.”
Jonna shook her head. She didn’t move any closer to the woman,
even though she kept asking her to come and look at the map.
I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.
She glared at her purse in the basket, just as a man stepped out
of the car as well. He spoke to her in a language she didn’t
understand. It sounded Eastern European. Jonna held on to her bike
and started walking. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re
saying. I have to go…”
“Stop!” the man said.
There wasn’t a soul on the street outside the store. No one to
help if they tried anything. Maren, the cashier inside the store
wouldn’t be able to hear her if she screamed. A car drove by, but
they didn’t notice anything. Jonna didn’t know them either. Probably
tourists. Why people came to Fanoe Island at this time of year, she
didn’t understand. It was cold and clammy, and only someone who
grew up here would fully be able to appreciate the cold wind biting
the cheeks and the moist foggy air that came in from the North Sea.
Still, she was always happy to see tourists. There hadn’t been many
this year.
“What do you want?” Jonna asked harshly. She had heard about
these Eastern Europeans coming to Denmark since the borders
were opened and robbing elderly people. She had heard the stories
and read about them in the papers. But never had she heard about
them coming to her wonderful small island.
 The woman tried to talk and distract Jonna, while the man tried to
put his hand inside her basket and grab her wallet. Jonna saw it and
grabbed his arm holding the purse. She looked into his eyes while
twisting his arm. Then, she grabbed his ear with the other hand and
twisted it. She hadn’t raised four grubby boys without learning a trick
or two. The big man squirmed and crouched.
“Ouch!”
“So, you’re trying to steal from an old woman, huh? Is that how
your mother raised you? I bet she’s very disappointed in you, young
man. I know I would be. No son of mine would get away with
attacking a skinny old woman on the street like this. How pathetic.
Pick someone your own size next time. Now, let go of the purse,
young man.”
He did as he was told with a small whimper.
“Now I suggest you and that tramp of a woman you’re holding on
to, I suggest you get the hell out of here before I get really angry.”
Jonna let go of the man and watched him sprint for the car.
Seconds later, he and the woman and the gray station wagon were
out of sight. Left on the sidewalk was Jonna with her purse in her
hand and heart pounding heavily in her chest. She held on to her
bike for a little while, catching her breath. Then she snorted and got
on her bike. She started riding it down the street, shaking her head,
and waving at her neighbors as she passed them.
“Attacking a poor old woman in broad daylight, is that what we’ve
come to? Is that where this world is going? Someone ought to do
something.”
 6

NOVEMBER 2014

“
T here was an old
SuperBrugsen today.”
lady who was assaulted outside of

Morten and I were sitting in front of the TV watching a program

about border patrol in Australia. Morten had come directly from work
and told me he was staying the night. When I asked him how Jytte
felt about that, he simply said she’ll live. Morten had certainly
changed in his approach to his daughter, and I was glad to feel she
was no longer running the show. She was less fond of me than ever.
To be frank, she hated my guts, but at least I had my boyfriend back.
I had thought about asking him to move in, but knew we had to wait
till Jytte moved away from home in a year or so. I still felt like he was
spoiling her too much by giving her everything she pointed at, but
had decided it was none of my business. Lord knows, my daughter
wasn’t the best behaved among girls either. They were just being
teenagers. It was going to pass eventually, like everything else.
Meanwhile, I was going to enjoy our life together, even if I couldn’t
take the relationship to the next level yet.
The officers on TV were searching a young backpacker for drugs.
Dogs were sniffing his belongings. They were my favorite part of the
show.
“I always wanted a dog,” I said.
“Were you even listening?” Morten asked.
I was leaning against his shoulder on the couch. “Yes, sorry. I
heard you. A woman was assaulted?”
 “A sixty-nine year old woman. She described the attackers as
Eastern European. They tried to steal her purse. They’ve had a lot of
trouble with these types on the mainland the last couple of years. I
hope this doesn’t mean they’ve found their way here. I really don’t
want this kind of stuff on our little island. It’s bad for tourism and
really bad news for us. Especially now that they’re talking about
cutting back on the police force.”
“When will you know more about that?” I asked.
“Next week, I think. I tell you, I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Is the woman alright?” I asked, as the dog found something and
sniffed it closely. The officer pulled the dog back and started
searching the pocket of the backpack. I loved the dogs. They always
found something.
“Yes, apparently she chased them off.”
“Who was it? Was she a tourist?”
“No, it was Jonna Frederiksen. She lives on the North side of
Nordby. She was very shaken when I spoke to her, but not so badly
she couldn’t give me a very detailed description of the couple that
assaulted her.”
“I don’t think I know her,” I said.
“She’s one of the real locals. You know, one of those that grew up
here. Not moved here like you and me.”
“I know. We’ll never be real locals, not even if we live here for the
rest of our lives,” I said, laughing. There really was a distinction
between those that had lived on the island for generations and those
that had moved here. Even if it was your parent’s generation that
had moved here, you still weren’t considered a local. That was just
the way it was.
“Look at that dog. Look how smart he is,” I said. “And adorable.”
“He is very cute. I used to have a German shepherd once.”
“For work?” I asked. “Was he a police dog?”
“Yes. I lost him to cancer. I loved that dog.”
“Did you ever consider getting another one?” I asked.
Morten shook his head. “No. When you buy a dog, you also buy
yourself some sorrow. They don’t live long. It was rough on Jytte as
well when he died. I don’t want to put her through that again. You
should get one, though. It would be good for Victor.”
 My eyes left the screen, and I looked at Morten. “Why, I think you
might be on to something there, Detective. I’ve read about how being
close to animals, especially dogs, can help kids with autism. I am
looking to do something a little more radical. I’ve been looking into
doing more about his diet. There are a lot of studies out there about
how a gluten-free and casein-free diet can help his symptoms.
Maybe this would be even better. I think I’ll take him to the shelter
tomorrow. Wow, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about this before. He
loves animals. Thanks.”
Morten chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He leaned over and grabbed
a cookie. The officer on TV was now pulling out bags of cocaine from
the guy’s bag, and he was starting to make excuses. I felt happy. In
this moment, everything was just perfect. Well, maybe not perfect,
but good. Real good.
 7

MARCH 1959

B eing the oldest, Ulrik Larsen was always a little concerned about
awakening his father’s wrath. It was easier for his two year younger
brother Peter. Ulrik had, from a very early age, learned that he was
responsible for both his and Peter’s actions. That was just the way it
was. So, if Peter got himself in trouble, Ulrik took the fall. It wasn’t
fair, but that’s how life was, his father always said.
It seemed to Ulrik that life had been getting increasingly unfair
ever since the baby had arrived. At thirteen, Ulrik was expected to be
a grown-up. And act like one. So, when his father told him to go to
old Hansen’s house and ask if he need help, that’s what Ulrik did.
There was no room for complaining like Peter while they rode their
bikes all the way across the dirt road and entered old Hansen’s farm.
Old Mr. Hansen had fallen and broken his hip. That’s all they had
told Ulrik. And now, he couldn’t work on his farm, so it was falling
apart. He needed an extra pair of hands, Ulrik’s father had said.
“Out here we take care of each other.”
Ulrik loathed working with his hands. He knew it was his fate. He
knew his father expected him to take over once he could no longer
work. He was to run the farm. He had no choice.
Ulrik looked at his baby brother, who laughed and raced him to
get there first. It was so unfair. Peter got to do whatever he wanted
with his life. He could even go to college if he liked. Once he was
done with high-school, Ulrik would come and work for his father. That
was what was expected of him. It didn’t matter that he hated working
there. It didn’t matter that the smell of pigs made him want to throw
up, or that he loved to read books. Farmers didn’t have time to read
books. Farmers didn’t go to college. Everything Ulrik was supposed
to learn, his dad could teach him.
“I got here first!” Peter exclaimed, and made a skid mark in the
gravel with his bike as he stopped. He threw Ulrik one of his bright
and handsome smiles. It annoyed Ulrik how Peter had everything.
Peter was going places. He would go see the world, visit museums,
and read all the books he wanted, while surrounded by beautiful
women all of his life. Meanwhile, Ulrik would be shoveling manure
and smelling of pig. No wonder his dad was such a grumpy old man.
“Now, behave yourself,” Ulrik said, as they parked their bikes,
leaning them up against the wall of the white main building of the
farm. A cold wind hit his face. Ulrik breathed in the breeze coming
from the ocean not far away. He loved the sea breeze and dreamt of
sailing away to exotic places.
Somewhere far far away from this island.
Ulrik didn’t like Fanoe Island much. It was too desolate, he
thought, and often dreamt of visiting big cities around the world. He
dreamt of being surrounded by people, educated people who would
discuss philosophy with him or art. He loved art. He wanted to visit
museums and libraries all over the world. There was no culture out
here in the countryside of the small island. Nothing but pigs and
more pigs.
Ulrik was the first up the stairs, and his brother kept behind him
as he knocked on the front door. “Let me do the talking.”
Peter didn’t argue. Neither of them were very happy to be at old
Hansen’s farm. The man had always scared them, especially when
chasing them off his property shooting his rifle in the air when they
were younger. They had spied on the old man and his wife,
pretending to be secret spies shooting with peas in a sling at the
wife, pretending to be shooting with guns. Those days were gone
and old Hansen had only gotten older and angrier with age. Ulrik
hadn’t seen him in many years, not since his wife passed away.
They had lost a child once, Ulrik’s mother had told him. That’s why
they didn’t like children on their property. The wife had never stopped
crying about it. In the end, that’s what killed her, Ulrik’s mother had
said. The sorrow killed her.
“What do you want?” The door was opened forcefully and a rifle
was pointed at the two boys.
“Mr. Hansen? It’s Ulrik. Ulrik and Peter Larsen. We’re your
neighbors?”
The old man chewed on tobacco and spat. “Ah, the
troublemakers. What do you want?”
“Our dad sent us to ask if you needed any help around the farm.
He heard about your accident.” Ulrik looked down at the cane the old
man was leaning against. He was holding the rifle clenched between
his arm and chest. Only half of his face moved when he spoke.
Ulrik’s dad had told him that the man had a stroke. That’s why he
had fallen. It had numbed half of the man’s face, and he looked
crooked when he spoke. He seemed taken aback.
“Well…that’s awfully nice of him, I guess. Well, you can start by
feeding the dogs and the horse. I don’t have many animals left, but
those I have I can hardly take care of being like this. Then, if you
could clean up in the barn over there. I can’t get the car out and I
can’t bike downtown anymore with this hip. Your mother has been so
nice as to bring me groceries whenever she went the last couple of
days.”
“Sure thing. Looks like we should take a look at the roof of your
house as well,” Ulrik said, when he spotted two buckets in the
hallway behind the old man.
Mr. Hansen nodded with a deep sigh. “Yes. Yes, that would be
nice of you. The storm in January took its toll on my old roof. Rains
an awful lot at this time of year, huh?”
“I guess it does.”
 8

NOVEMBER 2014

L isa Rasmussen was preparing for war. Well, actually, it was just
for the mayoral election that was coming up at the end of the month,
but it felt just like she was going to war. Not just for her, but for her
family as well.
She was making strategies, holding meetings, bribing the right
people, and getting rid of those that weren’t on her side. It was
exhausting.
Lisa had her mind set on becoming Fanoe Island’s next mayor,
no matter the cost. This was her goal, this was what she had worked
towards. And she had the public on her side. Every day, as she took
her usual walk from her house in Nordby to city hall, she took her
time to talk to anyone who wanted to. Even if it was just to exchange
a few words, or to tell her how wonderful a job she had done
cleaning up the town, or if it was to complain that the elderly weren’t
treated properly, that the food that was delivered by the city to their
homes was bad. It didn’t matter. Lisa took the time to listen to every
problem and comment. She would grab their hands and shake them
using both of hers, like she had seen presidents do on TV.
Now she was sitting in her house going through her strategies as
her husband Christian entered the living room. He sat on the couch
and put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Do you mind?” Lisa said. She looked at her papers. “I’m kind of
in the middle of something.”
 “And I want to read the paper,” he said with a grin. Ever since
Lisa had gotten the idea that she wanted to be mayor, Christian had
laughed at her. He didn’t think she was ever going to be elected.
“The current mayor, Erling Bang, has been in his seat for many
years. People love him. You don’t stand a chance. People around
here like things to stay the same. They don’t like change.”
Well, Lisa was just going to show him how wrong he was, wasn’t
she?
Christian sighed and took his feet down. “How long are we going
to live like this?” he asked.
“What do you mean live like this?”
“You’re never home. The house is a mess, look around. No one is
at home to take care of the kids. I have to pick them up. You’re never
here, Lisa.”
Lisa snorted. “Are you implying that I’m not a good mother?”
“No. You’re a great mother. You just…well, you just haven’t been
around much lately. Amalie, Jacob, and Margrethe are all missing
you. I miss you.”
“You just miss me because I used to do all the work around the
house, and now you have help out,” she said.
“Well, yes. That too. It’s hard on me to have to do everything.
This morning, I ran out of clean underwear.”
Lisa snorted again. “Didn’t I just cook you dinner?”
Christian nodded. “Yes, yes you did.”
“Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“The meat was very tasty, yes.”
“So, what are you complaining about? I’ve even hired a cleaning
lady to clean up after you. I’ll wash your clothes tonight. What is it
again you do that is so hard?” Lisa stared at her husband with
contempt. She really couldn’t see the problem.
“Honey. We miss you, that’s all. I know you take care of
everything, but…well, even when you’re home, this is all we get.
You’re always on the phone or writing or occupied with all this stuff.
The kids are always asking for you. Every time we pass one of those
posters on the streetlights when driving, they ask when this election
will be over so they’ll get their mother back. What do you want me to
tell them? I mean, I don’t think you’ll win, but have you even thought
it through? What if you win? You’ll be so busy, we’ll never see you.
What about Margrethe? You’re missing out on everything with her.
Today, the teachers at the preschool told me she was crying
because she missed her mother.”
Lisa looked at her husband. “She was crying?”
“Yes. Apparently she hurt herself playing on the playground
outside. The teacher didn’t know how it happened, but she has a
bruise on her back.”
Lisa felt how her hand started to shake. “They don’t know how it
happened? Weren’t they keeping an eye on her? Who did you talk
to?”
“It was Laiyla. You know, the one with the piercing and purple
hair.”
Lisa broke the pencil in her hand. Yes, she knew her very well.
Never trusted her much. Lisa closed her eyes and counted to ten
backwards to calm herself down. Then, she looked at her husband
again and smiled. Lisa tilted her head. She liked that they missed
her. It was a good feeling. She put her hand in Christian’s.
“I promise I’ll try and be more present from now on, okay? So,
Laiyla huh? And you say she wasn’t paying attention to what our
daughter was up to? Tell me everything she said.”
 9

NOVEMBER 2014

Iboth
took Victor and Maya to the shelter the very next day. They were
very excited in the car on our way there. Well, Maya tried hard
not to be, but I could tell by the look on her face that she really was.
Victor was smiling and looking out the window at the houses passing
by. I was excited as well. This was an excellent idea. Just seeing
their happy faces would make it all worth it, I was sure.
Nordby seemed desolate, I thought, as we parked close to the
main street. It was always like this in the fall. All summer, the island
was overrun by tourists; there was so much life, and when they
departed, it was all calm and strangely empty. At least it seemed to
be. There was plenty of activity still going on. The mayoral election
was coming up, and all the streetlights were covered in posters for
candidates. I still hadn’t decided who I was voting for. They were
down to two candidates. The sitting mayor, Mayor Erling Bang had
been mayor for longer than anyone could remember. It was the first
time in fifteen years that someone had gone up against him, I had
been told. Lisa Rasmussen was his opponent. I liked the idea of
change, and of having a woman in charge. I just wasn’t quite sure
about Lisa. She seemed a little fishy. I stared at her poster as we
passed one. She seemed to be trying too hard to look gentle and
trustworthy, but all I could see were those mad eyes of hers. They
gave me the chills. I had no idea why.
It was dark, and grey clouds hung over our heads, but it hadn’t
started raining yet as we crossed the square. I was cold, even in my
winter jacket. I nodded to a couple of people as we passed them. I
knew most people by now. At least I recognized their faces. Like
most Danes, the inhabitants of Fanoe Island didn’t like to say hello,
but they would nod with tight lips if your eyes accidently met. For the
most part, people tried to not look at each other. Especially at this
time of year when the cold made you bend forward slightly while
walking, and all you really wanted was to sit inside by the fireplace or
the TV with a cup of hot chocolate between your hands.
We passed a few small shops, the local real-estate agency, the
small gas station, then continued down Niels Engersvej where I
stopped in front of a small house. I looked at my phone where I had
the address on the screen.
“This should be it,” I said.
We walked up the small path leading to the front of the house. It
was a couple that ran the place from their own home, I had read
online. They took in sick animals, or animals that no one wanted and
found new families for them.
A red-haired woman opened the door.
“Hi, I’m Emma Frost. I called about looking at a dog?”
The woman smiled. She seemed nice. She reached out her hand
and grabbed mine. “I know who you are. Yes, come on inside. So,
these two are the lucky children, huh?”
“Yes, well. We’re just looking for now.”
The red-haired woman laughed. “That’s what they all say. But
once you set your eyes on one, you can’t let go. Come on in. I’m
Camilla, by the way. My husband Poul is in the living room with the
dogs. He brought them all into the playpen so you could take a look.”
We walked inside, and the pungent odor of wet dogs and animal
food hit my face. I could hear barking in the distance, and the sound
of animals moving in cages.
“We have birds and cats as well, if there is any interest,” Camilla
said.
“I think we’ll just look at the dogs for now,” I said, and followed
her into the living room. It was like a zoo in there. Birds jumping
around in their cages, cats jumping around on the furniture, and
dogs barking and biting each other inside the playpen. Victor and
Maya rushed to the dogs and leaned on the fence. I spotted a small
black dog that looked like it had some poodle in it. Poodles were
smart dogs, I had read.
“That one is cute,” I said and pointed. The small fluffy dog looked
up and Camilla grabbed him and handed him to me.
“Oh, wow,” I said, and held him close. He climbed up and licked
my ear.
“He is very affectionate,” Camilla said. “Loves children too. Fully
potty-trained and up to date on his shots. He would be perfect. His
name is Kenneth.”
Maya came over and petted Kenneth on the head. “He’s very
cute,” she said.
“And smart,” Camilla said.
“I love that he is so small,” Maya said.
“Small dogs are easy,” Camilla said.
“I like him,” Maya said.
“I like him too,” I said, and petted him behind his ear. I handed
him to Maya, so she could try and hold him. He climbed up and
licked her face. Maya laughed heartily. It had been awhile since I had
seen her this happy. “Oh, my God, Mom, he really likes me.”
“I’m sure he does.” I let Maya hold Kenneth and looked at the
other dogs in the pen. None of them were as cute as Kenneth. No,
this was the perfect dog for us.
“So, I take it you have fallen in love?” Camilla said with a wide
smile.
Maya looked up at me. “I love him, Mom. I really do.”
“Well, I do too,” I said, while looking for Victor. I spotted him
standing in front of a big cage at the other end of the living room.
“Can we have him, Mom?” Maya continued.
I stared at Victor. He put his hand inside the cage.
“What is that down there?” I asked. “In the big cage.”
Camilla looked concerned. “Oh, my. That’s Brutus.” Camilla
walked towards Victor. “You shouldn’t put your hand in there,” she
said, but Victor didn’t listen. Camilla looked at me. “He really
shouldn’t put his hand in there.”
I walked to him. “Take your hand out, buddy.”
I looked inside the cage. A huge gray dog stared back with eyes
as white as snow. It looked like a pit bull. It had scars on its face and
only half an ear. I gasped. It looked really creepy.
“I’m sorry,” Camilla said. “He’s not safe. Please take your hand
out of the cage before he bites you. He’s been badly mistreated.
He’s not well. I’m afraid we might have to put him down soon. You
can’t trust him. He bit my husband just yesterday, attacked him out of
the blue. He can’t be trusted; no one will want him.”
“I want him,” Victor said.
Uh-oh. I had a feeling he would say that.
“No, you don’t,” Camilla said. “He’s dangerous, sweetheart.
Please, get your hand out.” Camilla grabbed Victor’s arm. I didn’t
realize until it was too late. Victor let out a loud scream. It was ear-
piercing.
Camilla let go of his arm and looked at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”
The dog growled and banged his head against the bars while
staring at Camilla. It looked like it was ready to kill her. Victor still had
his hand inside the cage, but it didn’t touch him.
“Now, he’s doing it again,” she said with terror in her voice.
“Occasionally, he bangs his head against the bars like he’s trying to
get out. I really don’t like that dog. It’s very rare, since I love most
animals, but this one I simply don’t know how to handle.”
“But he lets Victor pet him,” I said.
“That’s…that’s the first time he ever let anyone touch him,”
Camilla said. “I’ve never seen him quite like this before. It’s very
unusual; normally, he never lets anyone touch him…just looking into
his eyes usually makes him angry.”
Exactly like Victor.
I turned to look at Maya, who was playing with Kenneth, throwing
a small rubber bone across the room and having him fetch it for her.
She was laughing and kissing the small dog. His ears flapped when
he ran.
This is not good.
“I want this one,” Victor said, still staring inside the cage and
petting the dog. It was now licking his hand and calming down from
his touch.
I sighed deeply. There was only one solution to this, and I was
certain I was going to regret it.
“We’ll take them both.”
10
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he numerologist had just gotten back from her session with Maya.
She threw her bag on the chair, then walked to the kitchen and
grabbed a packet of crackers. She was tired. Tired of having to
pretend like she liked that family and that awful person Emma Frost.
Today, she had been close to just grabbing a kitchen knife and
stabbing the terrible woman with it. Just finishing it then and there.
The idiot had taken both of the children to the shelter and had come
back with not one, but TWO dogs. The house was a mess and a
zoo. The dogs were running all over the place, barking at each other,
and fighting. Well, it was mostly the small black one that had been
feisty, while the big grey one had been quieter, and simply sat in a
corner staring at the numerologist and Maya like it was carefully
planning how to attack them and eat them afterwards. The
numerologist didn’t known which was worse…the small dog
constantly barking or the big quiet one staring at her with hungry
eyes. Emma Frost had told her that she couldn’t say no to either of
them, and she had preferred the small black one, but Victor really
had his eye on the big one, so she had taken them both.
The numerologist had felt like yelling at her, telling her how
STUPID that was. How insane it was with two troubled children in
the house. But she knew Emma Frost would never listen. She was
simply too irresponsible.
The numerologist was happy to be home and put the laptop on
her desk and opened it. Misty crawled across the table while the
numerologist pulled out a cracker. Crumbs fell to the desk next to her
laptop. Misty picked them up and ate them. The numerologist broke
a cracker in two and handed one piece to the rat. It nibbled the
cracker with great delight.
“There you go, sweetie.”
The numerologist looked in her book and flipped a couple of
pages. Things were going really well for her lately. Getting close to
Emma Frost had been easy, and she had gathered a lot of material.
Enough for her to take this to the next level. Yes, she had waited
long enough. She wanted to move carefully, though. She wanted it
all to happen in just the right way.
She flipped yet another page and drank from her water bottle.
The stars were aligned just perfectly for her little plan to be fulfilled at
this time. All predictions worked in her favor.
“See, Misty. All the books say the same thing,” she mumbled, and
stared into the computer screen.
It was true. 2014 was a special year. It was ruled by the number
seven, since if you added all the numbers you got seven, making it a
Universal Year.
The numerologist spoke while creating the web-page, sounding
like she was trying to explain everything to her rat.
“The number seven is analytical and self-examining. It starts a
turnaround as, even the mind, as cold as it is, recognizes that duality
doesn't benefit anyone.”
She looked at the pyramid she had drawn on a piece of paper. A
pyramid of numbers with the year and seven in the center. There
was no doubt about what this pyramid was telling her. The five in the
upper right side spoke very clearly. The five represented a big
change or shocking and unexpected event around November of
2014, and if she looked it up, the stars would tell her it was caused in
large part by miscommunication. The numerologist knew exactly
what this miscommunication would be.
She ate another cracker and tapped on the keyboard. A picture of
Emma Frost was found online, one where she was smirking during a
book signing, then a small video from a TV show she was on once,
talking about her books, where she laughed out loud. She edited it
so it kept repeating her laughing, making her sound menacing. It was
all placed on the page, and then accompanied by the text that the
numerologist had carefully prepared.
“Yes, Misty. This is how it all starts. See, killing her for what she
did is much too merciful, in my opinion. I want her to go down. I want
her to hit the ground so hard she’ll never get back up again. And
then, we strike.”
11
 NOVEMBER 2014

O kay, so maybe I hadn’t thought it through properly. Having one

dog was a lot of work, but two dogs that were both new to the place
was quite complicated, I soon realized. To my surprise, it wasn’t the
big one, Brutus, who caused me the most trouble. No, it was the
small and gentle Kenneth that drove me nuts with all his barking and
running around the house biting everything. He hadn’t been in the
house for more than ten minutes before he peed on the floor for the
first time. In the living room. On the carpet. While I was cleaning it
up, Maya came running and told me he had peed in the kitchen, and
soon after, I stepped in a small puddle in the hallway as well.
Frustrated and growling, I cleaned up again and again until I found
one of my favorite shoes chewed into a thousand pieces in the
bathroom.
“Maya!” I yelled.
She stuck her head inside the bathroom. “I think you should take
him outside for a little bit. Take him out in the yard.”
“But Victor is out there with Brutus right now,” Maya said.
“They’re dogs, for crying out loud. Can’t they just play together?” I
asked.
“I’m not sure the two of them should be playing together. Brutus
could eat Kenneth in one bite without even chewing. And I think he
wants to. That dog has been staring at Kenneth ever since we left
that house like he really wants to taste him.”
 I exhaled. “Get a leash on him and take him for a walk down the
street or on the beach. Just get him out of this house while I clean up
after him.”
“Okay,” Maya said. She was about to leave, then stopped herself.
“By the way, he pooped in the kitchen.”
“Aaaargh! I thought he was supposed to be potty-trained!” I
yelled, but Maya had left. I heard the front door slam, and suddenly
the house was quiet for the first time since we got back from the
shelter.
What have I done?
I finished cleaning up in the bathroom, then walked into the living
room and looked at the damages. A pillow from the couch was
shredded to pieces, Kenneth had left another puddle on the carpet,
and tipped over my cup of coffee from this morning that I had left on
the table.
I suddenly felt so incredibly tired. I sat down on the couch,
thinking there was no way I was going to survive having these
creatures in my house, when suddenly I heard a sound coming from
the yard. I got up and walked to the window. Outside, between the
trees, I spotted Victor and Brutus. What were they doing? Victor was
sitting in front of Brutus, face to face, making it look like they were
deep in conversation. I chuckled. Victor seemed so happy. I could
hear him chatting with the dog. It was good for him to have
something living to talk to for once. Usually, it was the trees and the
rocks he spoke to, so this was, by far, an improvement, I had to
admit. I didn’t like the dog much still, especially not after Camilla had
told me that they would take no responsibility if the dog were to hurt
Victor or anyone else in the family. She really didn’t recommend us
taking the dog. She still wanted it to be put down.
Then, Victor stood up. He started walking around among the
trees, and Brutus followed him. It looked like he was presenting
Brutus to each and every tree in the yard. The strange part was how
Brutus seemed to understand every word Victor spoke. Nah, that
couldn’t be. Maybe it just looked that way. Probably it was just an
illusion, but the two of them definitely had created a bond…and very
fast indeed. That was a good sign. I turned away and started
cleaning the puddle and the coffee stains, and just as I had managed
to put the living room back to normal, the front door opened and
Maya yelled, “We’re back!”
I took in a deep breath and braced myself for yet another couple
of hours of complete chaos, as Kenneth’s barking drowned out every
thought in my mind. Seconds later, he whirled through the living
room and started biting the edge of the couch, while growling at it
like it had tried to attack him first.
12
 NOVEMBER 2014

A nnie Holmgren was in a hurry, as usual, as she drove the car off
of the ferry onto Fanoe Island. She was a journalist at newspaper
JydskeVestkysten, her office situated in Esbjerg with a view of The
Wadden Sea with Fanoe peeking up in the horizon. She was happy
to be one of those who had escaped the island. Growing up there
was more than enough. She had known all of her life that she
wanted to leave as soon as she was old enough. She wanted to
have a career and make it big. So, she had…going to journalism
school in Aarhus, the second biggest city in the country, then off to
the biggest city, Copenhagen, for an internship at one of the big
national newspapers and later hired as a reporter there. Having a
career had been easy for Annie, easier than for her husband. She
had met Bjorn at the newspaper where he worked as a
photographer; they had worked on many stories together, and even
traveled together. But soon after their wedding, and while their first
child was on its way, Bjorn had been fired. Cutbacks, they said. He
had started his own freelance company, but hadn’t had many
assignments. Once their first child, Maria, came along, Bjorn had
been a stay at home dad and Annie had cut her maternity leave in
half so she could get back to her career. Bjorn had discovered that
he liked it. He enjoyed being at home with their child. In fact, he had
ended up taking care of all three children and the household while
Annie focused on her career. Much to their surprise, they had both
ended up liking their arrangement, him taking care of everything at
home and her making the money. Yes, it was hard when they went to
dinner parties and people asked him what he did for a living. It was
tough on his ego. Especially in the eyes of his father-in-law. Annie’s
dad had never understood his choice. A man without a career, a man
who didn’t make money was hardly a man at all, he believed. And he
never hesitated to tell Bjorn. It irritated Annie immensely, and over
the years, she had visited her parents less and less. In the end, they
only saw each other for Christmas.
When Annie’s mother Elsebeth was diagnosed with cancer,
everything had changed. Annie had realized her parents weren’t
going to be around forever, and she had quit her job at the
newspaper and taken a job closer to the island at a smaller paper
located in Esbjerg to be able to visit more often. She had helped out
the best she could, since her father was old and not in the best
health either. He was almost fifteen years older than her mother, and
it was, therefore, the biggest surprise that she ended up dying before
him. Annie had never had a close relationship with her father; she
didn’t know much about him except that he was born on Fanoe
Island, had grown up on a farm outside of Nordby with his brother
Peter, and had lived on the island all of his life. Ever since her
mother died, she had tried hard to make up for the fact that she
hardly knew him, but somehow, it felt like it was too late. Her father
had been away most of her childhood, since he traveled a lot for his
job. He had started his own company. Annie didn’t know much about
it except they sold machines to farmers all over Europe. She
guessed it was tractors and such. Her dad never talked much with
her or shared anything in detail. He had, however, been very
disappointed in the fact that she was a girl, since he believed only a
boy could take over the business. But when Annie’s mother hadn’t
been able to provide another child after Annie, and when Annie had
refused to take over the business that had kept her father away from
her all of her childhood, her dad had, in bitterness, realized his
company would die with him.
Annie hadn’t wanted to go see him today; it hadn’t been her plan,
but she felt like she had to. She had plenty to do today and had to be
in Vejle to do an interview in a few hours, but since they had called
from the city and told her that her dad hadn’t answered the door for
days, and that it had been locked when the nurses tried to get inside,
she felt she had to go and check on him. It wasn’t that unusual. They
had been through it before when her dad had refused to let the
nurses in for up to a week at a time. It had happened several times
before, Annie had said to the nice woman who had called, but still
something inside of her felt stirred and uneasy. She knew she
needed to quiet the anxiety she felt inside of her. So, she had
pushed the interview back a little and hurried to catch the ferry.
Annie rushed through Nordby and drove up the hill onto the street
of her childhood. She felt a chill as she parked the car in the
driveway and got out. She looked across the street to number
seventeen where Martin had lived. The handsome Martin that she
had had a crush on for several years in school. She had heard he
sold refrigerators now downtown. Annie shook her head. So glad she
didn’t end up marrying the guy. So happy she was one of those that
got away. Staying here would have made her lose her mind. No
doubt about it.
“Dad?” she yelled, as she knocked on the door.
There was no reply. The sign saying Ulrik Larsen on the door had
fallen down on one side. A lot was falling apart on the house lately.
“Dad? It’s Annie! Open up!”
Still, no answer. Annie sighed and found her own key to the
house, then opened the door. Newspapers and letters coming
through the mail slot had formed a pile behind the door and made it
hard to push open.
This is a bad sign, Annie thought to herself. If anything, her dad
always made sure to get the mail. He was a decent man who
opened his mail and read the paper every single day.
Had he gotten hurt somehow? Has he fallen somewhere and
can’t get up? Oh my, is he in trouble?
“Daaad?”
No answer. She tried again. A revolting odor hit her. What the hell
was that? What could smell like that? Had the freezer stopped
working? Had there been a blackout and the meat had started to rot?
Had he forgotten to change the cat’s litter box? Where was the old
cat anyway?
“Dad, where are you?”
 Annie kept walking through the hallway towards the living room
where her dad was usually sitting on the couch when she arrived.
The same couch he usually refused to leave. The couch he would
sleep on if the nurses let him. But this time, it was empty.
“Dad? Basse?”
That’s odd. He never leaves the couch unless he has to.
A nervous feeling spread inside of her. No, there had to be some
explanation. Ulrik Larsen was a very strong man. He hadn’t been
sick in twenty years. Maybe he was simply still sleeping? It was, after
all, still morning. But how would he have gotten into bed if the nurses
hadn’t been in to help him?
“Where are you, Dad? Are you in the bathroom?”
A fly landed on her forehead. Annie wiped it away. Another one
buzzed her face. Soon three, then four.
Flies? At this time of year?
She had walked back into the hallway towards the bedroom when
she heard a strange sound coming from the kitchen. A buzzing
sound.
The sound of a thousand flies. Oh, my God!
Part of her was screaming to get out of there as soon as
possible, but she felt like she was frozen. Like she was paralyzed.
She was drawn towards it. She had to know. As she peeked inside
the kitchen, holding her scarf up against her nose and mouth, her
eyes started watering. Not because of the horrendous odor, but
because of what she saw. Her own dad lying on the tile floor in a
pool of blood. Flies were buzzing around him and his old cat, Basse,
was gnawing on his face.
13
 MARCH 1959

U lrik and Peter worked at old Hansen’s farm all weekend, and the
following Saturday their dad asked them to go down there again.
Ulrik and Peter did as they were told without asking any questions.
Old Hansen was happy to see them and immediately asked them to
feed the horse and the dogs and clean up outside the main building.
“I’ll take the horse, you feed the dogs,” Ulrik said to his younger
brother.
It was a nice spring day with clear skies and crisp air. Ulrik
enjoyed being outside. He took the horse out in the paddock. The
horse jumped and ran off while Ulrik closed the fence. Then he
cleaned out the horse’s stall and gave it fresh straw and hay. He
poured food in the trough, and then returned to see if his brother
needed help with the dogs. Peter was playing with the big labs in the
farmyard. He had found a ball that he was throwing and the three
labs ran to get it. Peter was laughing when they ran back to him and
jumped on him. Then he grabbed the ball out of the mouth of one
dog and threw it again. The three dogs all ran for it. Peter laughed.
Ulrik smiled at the sight of his brother enjoying himself. There
weren’t many times either of them got to play or be childish anymore.
Ulrik had watched his brother for a little while, when he realized he
wasn’t the only one watching him. On the stairs outside the house
stood Mr. Hansen. He was leaning on his cane while staring at Peter.
He was smiling too. There was something about the way he looked
at Peter that made Ulrik feel uncomfortable.
 Ulrik walked into the courtyard and yelled at his brother. “Enough
fooling around. Come help me carry these big tires over here into the
barn.”
Peter left the dogs and ran to help his brother. They carried the
tires inside the barn, and then walked back to clean up the pile of old
garbage. All the while, Ulrik couldn’t escape the feeling that old
Hansen was observing them, monitoring their every move.
“What happened to Hansen’s child?” Ulrik asked at the dinner
table when they returned that night.
His parents exchanged a look. His dad dropped his fork onto the
plate. “That’s none of our business, son,” he answered.
“He died when he was twelve, I heard,” Ulrik continued, even
though he knew it was a touchy subject.
His mother tightened her lips and shook her head. “We don’t talk
about it. Eat your potatoes.”
“Why?” Ulrik said. “Why can’t we talk about it?”
“It was a tragedy,” his mother replied. “We don’t talk about
people’s tragedies. It’s also a bad omen to talk about the dead.”
“What kind of tragedy?” Ulrik continued.
He could tell by the look on his father’s face that he was pushing
it now. His mother saw it as well. She looked at her husband before
she answered.
“An accident. The boy fell or something; now, eat your potatoes.”
“Fell how?” Peter had become curious as well now.
Their mother sighed, annoyed. “I don’t know. We don’t talk about
it. It’s none of our business.”
“I heard he was trampled to death by the cows,” Ulrik said.
“That’s why they got rid of all the cows afterwards.”
“I heard he fell from the roof,” Peter said. “That he was trying to
run from the ghost that haunts that place. A ghost that kills children.
It’s true. He lives here on the island. He watches them for a long
time, and then he lures them into the forest before he kills them. At
least that’s what some kids are saying.”
Their mother looked perplexed, then cleared her throat. “Well,
that’s all very nice, but as far as we know, it was just an accident and
it was very rough on the family. Let’s not talk any more about this.
Some things are best left in the past. Now, eat your dinner. You’re
going down there again tomorrow, your father said. I think you’re
doing a great thing helping the old man out. Now, eat.”
14
 NOVEMBER 2014

T hat night I had a nightmare. I dreamt of this strange figure hiding

between the trees in my yard watching Victor. He was tall and had
no face. He was wearing a suit and tie. His long slender arms were
stretching out to grab Victor just as I woke up with a loud scream. I
gasped for air, then screamed again. Right next to my bed sat Brutus
in the light from the full moon outside my window. His white eyes
were staring directly at me. My heart was pounding heavily as I
crouched on the corner of my bed. I turned to look at the door. It was
closed.
“How did you get in here?” I said.
The dog kept staring at me. He looked like he wanted to kill me.
Those white eyes were creepy.
“What do you want?”
The dog didn’t make a sound. That was almost the scariest part
about him…that he was so quiet. It was like he was observing us,
maybe planning his move on how to kill us all.
“Get out!” I said.
The dog didn’t move. I pointed at the door. “Get out of here.”
I got up and grabbed his collar. Brutus growled loudly and
snapped at me. I gasped and let go, then jumped onto the bed.
“Victor!”
Victor came into my room, rubbing his eyes. “Brutus!” he said,
and hugged the dog. The pit bull didn’t make a sound.
“Would you get him out of here?” I said.
 Victor looked the dog in the eyes. For a few seconds, they stood
like that, and I could have sworn they were communicating
somehow. It freaked me out.
“Just get the dog out of here, now!” I said.
Victor turned around and walked out of the door without a sound.
The dog immediately followed. I threw myself on the bed as I
exhaled, and then went back to sleep, thinking that dog was going to
be the end of us all.
“I swear to God, the dog wants to kill me,” I told Sophia when she
came over for coffee later. The kids were off to school, and I was
alone with the two beasts. I couldn’t decide which one of them was
worse. Kenneth was eating one of Maya’s shoes, while Brutus was
sitting in the corner staring at us, looking exactly like one of those
porcelain dogs. It gave me the chills. I turned away and looked at
Sophia instead. She laughed.
“It seems like you’re in a little over your head here,” she said.
“I told the kids that they need to take care of them on their own.
I’ll walk them once during the day, and let them into the yard before
nighttime, but they have to walk them in the morning and in the
afternoon. Those were the terms. I’m not taking care of that pit bull
over there. He’ll eat me in one bite.”
“You know that’s not going to last,” Sophia said with a grin. “In a
few days, you’ll be stuck with walking and feeding and bathing the
both of them.”
I sipped my coffee and grabbed a bun that I had managed to
bake this morning, even though the house had been in chaos, with
Kenneth peeing on the floor and eating the furniture and Maya
running after him screaming and yelling that she was in a hurry and
that she needed to fix her hair. It was quite the circus.
“I’m taking them back, then,” I said. “I can’t take care of two dogs.
There’s no way. Especially not that quiet one over there. He freaks
me out, I tell you.”
I buttered my bun. Sophia grabbed one as well. Nothing like a
second breakfast with your best friend. Sophia looked really well. I
guessed it was the love between her and Jack. She had just been so
happy lately. I was really thrilled for them. Really. Even though I had
to admit that I might have been slightly, only slightly, jealous. I hadn’t
had that spark in my relationship with Morten for a long time. We
were doing well, yes. Better than a few months ago, but still, I felt like
something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe I was
just bored. We needed to spice things up a little. I had thought about
it for a long time and planned something special. Tonight, I was
taking him to folk dancing class downtown. Yes, we were going to
learn the local Fanoe-dance, and he had no idea.
My phone rang. It was Morten. He sounded agitated. “I’m sorry,
sweetie. I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“Aw!”
“I know. But something’s come up. They found a body.”
My eyes widened. “Who? What?”
“I’ll tell you details later. I’m on my way down there.”
15
 NOVEMBER 2014

L isa was walking with fast and determined steps across the square
in the middle of Nordby. In one hand, she was holding an organic
beet-carrot-apple smoothie that she had made herself this morning.
She was wearing her long yellow coat and black gloves. In her other
hand, she was holding her briefcase.
People passing her on the square nodded without smiling.
Someone stopped with the intent of chatting, but she wasn’t in the
mood and kept walking, mumbling:
“Sorry, gotta run, important meeting.”
The truth was, she had actually pushed back a meeting this
morning because she had a very important errand to run. She sipped
her smoothie while trying to keep her anger bottled up inside and not
show it. She smiled and nodded at a couple passing her, while
saying:
“Don’t forget to vote on the eighteenth! It’s time for a change. You
deserve better!”
The couple nodded and waved. Lisa turned around and grumbled
while sipping her smoothie. The numbers weren’t on her side this
morning. She was behind in the polls. Lisa had hired a campaign
manager who had looked at the voters on the island and told her that
her problem was that the people were afraid of change. They usually
voted for the sitting mayor because they were afraid too many things
would change.
 “Freaking islanders,” she mumbled. “Don’t like change. Who
doesn’t like change?”
Lisa needed a cause, the campaign manager, Merethe, had told
her. Something to distinguish her from the other candidate. The
people didn’t know her very well and that was her weakness. She
wasn’t a local; she had only been on the island a short while. Erling,
they knew. He had grown up on the island and knew everyone. On
top of it, Lisa was an independent candidate, and that frightened
many voters. It was too different and made them feel insecure. She
had to have something extra going for her to make up for the fact
that she didn’t have a political party to back her up. If they were to
cast their personal votes for her, she needed to really stand out. She
needed people to like her.
“Like me?” she grumbled, as she raced across the square and
down a small street. “I’ll make them like me if I have to. They don’t
know what’s best for them. They’re like freaking children.”
She stopped in front of a house and looked at it. On the mailbox,
it said Laiyla Ejlersen and Erik Ejlersen. So, she was married now,
was she? Lisa finished her smoothie and crushed the cup between
her hands. She found a trash can on one of the light poles right
underneath her own poster. She smiled, satisfied. She had fought
hard in the city council to get trash cans on every street. This was
her doing. She was the one who could clean up this city and bring
back the tourists. Tourism had been declining over the last two
years. Many vacation houses were empty all summer and the
restaurants were suffering for the second year in a row. Lisa had
thought about making that her cause. To bring back the tourists. She
had asked her campaign manager to figure out what was causing
this decline.
Lisa walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A chubby
young woman with purple hair and a nose ring opened the door. The
nose ring looked like the ones bulls had. It was simply appalling.
Everything about her annoyed Lisa immediately. Why did people get
chubby anyway? Didn’t they have any self-control? She wanted to
scold her and tell her to pull that stupid ring out and get a proper
haircut and color in order to look normal.
“Yes? Hey, aren’t you that…”
 Lisa pushed her way inside the house. “Yes, yes, that’s not why
I’m here,” she said, and walked into the living room.
“I am going to vote for you,” Laiyla said, as she followed her. “You
don’t have to persuade me. I’m all in for change. It’s about time we
got a female mayor around here. Bring us into the twenty-first
century, right?”
Lisa looked around, perplexed. She seemed to be home alone.
“Yes, yes, mmm, well then, you’re all set then, huh?”
“I guess so. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Lisa clenched her gloved fist. She hated having to lose a voter. It
was really not what she needed. “So, tell me this, what was it that
was so important that you didn’t feel you needed to keep an eye on
my daughter?”
Laiyla looked at her strangely. “What?”
Lisa waited for the light bulb.
“Oh, that!” Laiyla said. “You’re Margrethe’s mom. I completely
forgot that. Well, I know it was unfortunate that she got hurt, but
nothing really happened.”
“Nothing happened?” Lisa said. “What do you mean nothing
happened? She got HURT!”
Laiyla jumped when Lisa yelled the last word. Lisa closed her
eyes and counted backwards from ten. It didn’t help.
“I’m…I’m so sorry…but…” Laiyla said.
Lisa put her briefcase down. She clenched her fists briefly. “It’s all
you have to do. It’s all any of you idiots have to do all day. Look after
the kids to make sure they don’t hurt themselves. It’s ALL you have
to freaking do! How HARD is it to do that?”
Laiyla backed up. “I…I…”
Lisa inhaled deeply to keep calm. So many amateurs, so many
incompetent people she had to deal with every single day. Didn’t
anyone take anything seriously anymore? Was it all just a joke to
them?
Lisa tried to think of nice things to calm herself down. She
thought of the ocean, she thought of the beach, but all she could
picture was all the garbage people threw in the water or on the sand.
Why were people so damn stupid? Was it that hard to clean up after
yourself? Lisa tried to picture herself in a meadow picking flowers,
but it didn’t get her blood pressure down like the doctor had told her
it would. She had recently been diagnosed with high blood pressure,
and the doctor had told her to not get too agitated. It had worked for
a while now, but not right now. All the anger she had bottled up
inside from dealing with all these useless people surfaced in a matter
of seconds.
“Are you alright?” Laiyla said.
Lisa looked at her and shook her head. “No. I’m afraid I’m not all
right. I won’t tolerate my child getting hurt on your watch, on
anyone’s watch. I’m afraid I have to set an example.”
Laiyla looked confused. “What do you mean? Like, fire me? You
can’t do that.”
Lisa laughed. “Oh no, you’re right. I can’t do that, but you know
what? I can do something else.”
Laiyla stepped further backwards. Lisa saw her look around to
make sure she had a way of escape. But she didn’t. Lisa was way
too fast for her. She could run for hours on the treadmill at the fitness
center without even getting out of breath. She was in excellent
shape, unlike the woman in front of her. Lisa hardly ever touched
carbs or gluten. They both knew she would win, even though Laiyla
was younger. Her skin revealed a bad diet and her body no exercise.
Will people ever learn? So many sloppy individuals out there.
“Like what?”
Lisa smiled. Then she leaned over, grabbed the nose ring, and
pulled it out. Laiyla screamed in pain and bent over.
“What the hell?!!”
Lisa slammed her fist into her face till she fell to the ground and
no longer moved. Yes, those hours in the boxing ring at the fitness
center had certainly paid off. Even though she still believed her
behind was too big, Lisa felt in better shape than ever.
Lisa opened her briefcase and took out a big piece of plastic that
she covered the floors with, then a saw, a knife, and plastic bags to
put the pieces of meat in.
“I was going to make lasagna tonight,” she said. “But now, I’m
thinking a stew instead.”
16
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
I ’Morten stood
I’ .”
in my doorway looking like a lost puppy. I stared
angrily at him. I was upset that he had cancelled on me on our very
first night of folk dancing. It was supposed to be a surprise. We were
supposed to go to the community center downtown where they had
classes every Wednesday night. It was supposed to bring us closer
together. My mom and dad had promised to baby and dog-sit. Now it
was all ruined.
I didn’t know what to say to him. “Well, I guess you had to be
there,” I said, and let him inside.
He leaned over and tried to kiss me. I gave him a reluctant kiss.
He frowned. “Is that all I get?”
“Well I…I was looking forward to seeing you tonight, to spending
time with you, and now it’s almost bedtime.”
Morten sighed. “You can’t be mad at me for doing my job.”
“I know. It’s just…well, I had something planned and everything.”
I walked to the living room where Kenneth had gotten his teeth into
my half-eaten box of chocolates on the coffee table. I pulled him
away. Kenneth whined and paid me back by gnawing the sofa’s leg.
Brutus was sitting like a statue by the door leading to the yard. He
had been sitting there since Victor went to bed.
“Does he ever move?” Morten whispered.
I chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t think so. Not unless Victor tells
him to. It’s very strange. I tried to walk him earlier, but he refused to
go with me. He snarled and snapped at me when I tried to put on the
leash. So, I left him alone and hoped he could hold it until Vic came
home. I think he did. He’s the weirdest dog I have ever seen. But
Victor likes him and they get along really well. I just hope he won’t
end up killing us all in our sleep. He looks mad enough to do it.”
Morten threw himself on the couch. Kenneth barked at the sofa
like he expected it to play with him.
“So, what had you planned for tonight?” Morten asked.
I grabbed a chocolate and put it in Morten’s mouth. “Wouldn’t
you’d like to know, huh?”
“Well, yes. I’m curious as to what you could have planned that we
haven’t already done a million times.”
The sentence felt like a blow. Was that how he felt? Was that how
it had turned out? We had tried everything, and now all that was left
was to wait to grow old together?
“Tell me about the murder,” I said.
“Who said it was murder?” Morten said.
I shrugged secretively.
“Ah, you’ve been reading the case files, have you? You really
should stop doing that, Emma. It’s illegal.”
“Only if you get caught.” I smiled and grabbed another chocolate.
“But, if you’ve been in the files, you already know everything,
don’t you?” he asked, and signaled that he would like another
chocolate. I planted one between his lips. He ate it with a grin.
“No, I don’t,” I said. “Someone hasn’t finished his report on the
crime scene yet. I want to know more. I might have an interest in the
guy. I recognized the name from the letters I’ve been reading. Ulrik
Larsen was the son of the lady whose letters the workers found. He’s
actually sort of family. His mother was my grandmother’s sister.”
“Ah. I see. Well, I’m not allowed to tell you anything unless you
bribe me seriously.”
I sat on his lap and gave him a kiss. When I let go, he looked like
he was in pain, and I realized I was crushing his legs.
“Sorry,” I said and moved away, feeling slightly self-conscious
about my weight.
“That’s okay, the kiss was great,” he said cheerfully.
“Good enough for a bribe?”
 “Will do for now. What do you want to know?”
“The scene. How was he killed?” I asked.
“We haven’t gotten the autopsy yet, but he was stabbed and
probably bled to death. The knife was still in his chest. The cats had
eaten some of the body’s face. It was nasty. Flies everywhere. Real
ugly.”
“I bet. So what kind of knife was it?” I asked.
“A hunting knife. I haven’t gotten it confirmed by the lab yet, but I
know a hunting knife when I see it. My dad was a hunter.”
“One of those that needs a permit?” I asked, and debated
whether to grab another piece of chocolate or not.
“Yes. It was definitely longer than the legal seven centimeters.”
“So, you’ll be able to pull the permit?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Morten said. “We’ll have this guy in no time.” He leaned
over and grabbed another piece of chocolate. I felt jealous that he
was so skinny and could eat as many as he liked.
He smiled while he chewed.
“Got anymore coffee?”
17
 NOVEMBER 2014

W illiam Korsvig stared at the computer screen. He was waiting.

Waiting for the slender man to appear inside of the house in
Minecraft that he had built and where he usually showed himself to
him when he teleported there. He never called himself anything other
than that strange name. Slender Man. William had heard and read
about him online. He knew he was everywhere, and that he was
constantly watching William. He had no idea how, but the man was
everywhere, including inside his game. But he only showed himself
to William when he wanted to speak to him. He knew everything
there was to know about Slender Man and wanted badly to please
him. He would do anything he told him to. He could hardly believe he
had been chosen. Soon, he would be part of something bigger.
Soon, he would become one of his proxies.
Finally, he appeared. William smiled, feeling relieved. The skinny
guy moved towards him inside the game. He was tall and slender
like his name, and had long tentacle-like arms. He was wearing a
suit and tie and had no face.
>Hi there< William wrote.
Slender Man answered.
>Hi. How are you?<
>I’m good.<
>Good. Do you know what to do?<
>Yes.<
>Excellent. You’re ready. I’m proud of you, soldier. It’s time.<
 William broke out in a sweat. Slender Man disappeared from his
house. William leaned back in his chair with his heart pounding hard
in his chest. On his bed next to him lay his costume. He had bought
it online using his stepdad’s credit card. William got up from the chair
and walked to it. He started undressing himself and putting on the
costume, piece by piece. Black pants, white shirt, black tie. The
white faceless mask, he put in his pocket for now. He would take that
out later when he needed it.
William put on the black jacket that went with the costume, then
grabbed the gas can and lighter, and put them inside his backpack.
Then, he walked towards the door. Living in the basement of his
mother’s house, he had his own entrance, and could come and go
as he wished. He liked the freedom it had given him to move down
there, even though he knew it was mostly because his new stepdad
didn’t want him in the house and hardly ever let him upstairs, except
to eat. His mother didn’t care if he went out at night; she never knew
what he was up to anymore, or if he even went to school or not. She
didn’t even know that he had dropped out of high school a couple of
months ago and now spent most of his time in front of the computer
or at the fitness center, where he had built up quite the body. His
mother didn’t know what he was up to and probably didn’t care.
William knew that, once he turned eighteen, he would be kicked out,
but there were still two more years to go. William wasn’t going to
simply waste those away. He had a mission; he had found a purpose
to his life now.
He opened the door and sneaked outside. He put the backpack
on his back and grabbed his bike, then rode off. He biked across the
small town in the light of the streetlamps. He swung around a corner
and into a small street, then threw the bike in a bush and sneaked
into a yard. He walked up to the house and looked inside the
windows. They hadn’t pulled the curtains yet, and standing in
darkness outside, William could see everything going on inside.
He watched an old lady sitting in a chair, knitting, then he
watched the man half asleep next to her on the couch. The TV was
on, but neither of them were watching it. From the outside, they
looked like just an ordinary couple on an ordinary night of their life.
But they weren’t. William felt proud that he had gotten such an
extraordinary assignment. He was proud to be chosen to fulfill this
task. It was special. It had to be. The target was very special.
William put the backpack down, then opened it. He pulled out the
gas can and started pouring the gas around the house. When he
was done, he put on the faceless mask and walked to the front door.
He kicked it in, then walked quietly and calmly into the living room.
The woman sitting on the couch gasped and looked at him.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she said, and pulled
her husband’s arm. He grunted and woke up.
“What the hell?”
William tilted his head, then smiled behind the mask. He enjoyed
watching the fear on their faces, just like Slender Man had told him
he would. No, he didn’t just like it. He loved it. He devoured it.
My God, this feels good. This is what it feels like to be alive.
“What do you want?” The man asked, and jumped up from the
sofa. He was very agile for an old man. His cheeks were burning red
with anger. He walked towards William.
“Is this some sort of prank?”
William reached out his long slender arms and slammed his
clenched fist into the man’s face. The woman screamed while the
man fell backwards. William lifted the gas can and started pouring
gasoline on the body of the old man.
“Stop!” the woman screamed. “What are you doing?”
The old man was staring at him, then screaming for help. William
held him down, while making sure the gas soaked his clothes. He
squirmed underneath William, but wasn’t strong enough to get free.
William secured him to the floor with duct tape, then stood above him
before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lighter.
“No! No! Don’t!” The man screamed, panicking.
William turned his faceless mask towards the woman. While
lifting the lighter into the air, he whispered:
“Run, little lady. Run for your life.”
18
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
TJack was
’ !”
standing in my doorway. He had knocked on the door in
the middle of the night, waking everyone up, including the dogs.
Kenneth was now running around behind me, barking loudly and
biting everything he could find. I wasn’t quite awake yet.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought Mmmorten might be at your house. I tried his cell, but
he didn’t answer. Is he here? He nnneeds to come with me. I got the
call a minute ago. A house is on fire across town. I need him to come
with me. I called the station and Allan, who was on duty tonight, is on
his way down there, but we need as many men we can gather. It’s a
big fire, they say.”
My eyes widened. Jack was the island’s volunteer firefighter,
since we didn’t have a fire station. “He’s still asleep. I’ll go get him
right away,” I said, and stormed up the stairs. Jack came inside and
closed the door. I heard Kenneth barking loudly at him. I rushed
inside the bedroom and woke Morten up.
“There’s a big fire. Jack is downstairs. They need your help. Allan
is on his way too.”
Morten jumped out of bed. I got dressed in a hurry as well.
Morten looked at me. “What? I’m coming,” I said. “You need all the
help you can get.”
He didn’t even bother arguing. There was no time. I ran to Maya
and woke her up and told her we were leaving and that I was leaving
her in charge of the house and of Victor for a few hours. She growled
and went back to sleep. I took that as a sign she had heard me, then
ran downstairs and jumped into Jack’s small fire truck that the county
had provided him.
Soon, we were driving across town with blaring sirens. I could
see the fire as we approached the house. It was big, all right. The
flames were licking the night sky.
“I just hhhope we can stop it before it spreads to any of the
surrounding houses,” Jack yelled. I noticed he barely stuttered when
he was agitated. “That would be a real tragedy. Lots of these houses
have thatched roofs. The entire neighborhood will bbburn down in a
matter of minutes.”
Jack made a turn, and we drove onto a small street. It was
narrow, but Jack managed to maneuver the truck through. We came
closer and I saw people in their night robes in front of the house.
They looked terrified. Probably neighbors afraid the fire would
spread to their houses as well.
“It’s the mayor’s house!” Morten exclaimed, as we came closer.
“It’s Mayor Bang’s house!”
Officer Allan arrived at the same time we did. We jumped out of
the truck and approached the house. Outside stood a woman
screaming and staring paralyzed at the fire in front of her. While
Morten, Allan, and Jack pulled out the hose and attached it to the fire
hydrant, I grabbed the woman and let her cry in my arms.
“Help him!” she yelled, her voice breaking. “He’s in there! He’s
still in there! Help him. They gotta help him!”
“You mean someone is still in there?” I asked, horrified.
“Yes! My husband! Help him!”
I ran to Morten. “There’s someone in there. There’s someone in
the house!”
Morten and Jack looked at each other. Jack shook his head. He
was the only one wearing firefighter equipment, but still, he wasn’t
professionally trained.
“What do we do?” Morten asked.
Jack shook his head again. “I…I don’t think there’s much we can
do. The house is almost burned to the ggground.” He looked terrified
at the thought of having to go in. I couldn’t blame him. The roof was
hanging loosely, and the loud cracking sounds told me it wouldn’t be
long before it crashed. I was right. Seconds later, it did. The entire
roof collapsed on top of the house. The mayor’s wife screamed. I ran
to her and grabbed her in my arms.
Jack got the hose going and started spraying water on the
remains of the house to put the fire out and prevent it from
spreading. I held the woman in my arms and tried to comfort her,
while I couldn’t stop thinking about how the same thing had almost
happened to me a few months ago. I shivered, thinking about what
would have happened if we hadn’t gotten out in time. If one of my
children hadn’t…I didn’t want to finish the thought. It was too
gruesome. I was just so relieved that the woman who had set my
house on fire had been caught. I had a lot to thank Dr. Sonnichsen
for.
The woman was sobbing and crying hard in my arms. I had no
idea how to console her. She had lost everything in a matter of
minutes. Her husband, her house, her entire life, all her memories,
everything. There was nothing I could say or do. So, I didn’t. I simply
kept quiet and held her tight till she exhausted herself and could cry
no more.
19
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
DMorten
o you have any idea how this could have happened?”
was looking at Mrs. Bang. She was sitting inside Jack’s
firefighter truck with a blanket over her shoulders, her feet sticking
out the door. She shook her head. Her eyes were lost in desperation.
The shock was visible on her face and in her eyes.
“I…I…there was a guy, there was someone…he…he broke into
the house. He…he had a can of gasoline. He poured it over my
husband, then lit the lighter…I thought I could run for help. He told
me to run. Run, little lady, he said. So I did. I ran, but as soon as I
was outside, running across the street to get ahold of our neighbors,
there was an explosion, and when I turned to look, the house was on
fire. It all went so fast. I can hardly believe it. I…I…”
Morten wrote on his notepad. “So, it was arson. Murder-arson,
you say?”
Mrs. Bang nodded with a whimper.
“Did you get a good look at the man who entered your house?”
he asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Bang cried again. I held her hand and put an arm
around her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Take your time.”
“Can you describe him for me?” Morten asked.
Mrs. Bang tried hard to stop crying. I gave her a new Kleenex.
“Just tell me what he looked like. Was there anything particular
that you noticed about him?”
 “I…He…he didn’t have a face.”
“He didn’t have a face?” Morten asked, puzzled.
“He was wearing a mask, but it was just white. All blank.”
“Okay. So, he was masked,” Morten repeated, while scribbling his
notes. “Anything else?”
“He was tall. Tall and slender.”
“A slender man,” Morten said. “Got it. What else?”
“He was wearing a black suit and tie,” she continued.
“A suit and tie?” I asked. “That sounds quite unusual for a killer.”
Mrs. Bang shook her head. “This was no ordinary killer. I couldn’t
see his eyes, but I was certain he enjoyed it.”
“Did he say anything?” Morten asked.
“Just run, little lady. Run for your life. That was right before…right
before he…he lit the lighter.”
“I found something!” Allan yelled.
Morten and I both looked outside. Allan was walking towards us
with a bike in his hands.
“That could belong to anyone,” Morten said.
“It was parked right at the entrance to the yard,” Allan said.
“I’ve never seen that bike before,” Mrs. Bang said.
“But still,” Morten said. “It could be from some kid who stole it and
threw it in the bushes afterwards. But, take it in for examination,
maybe find out who it belongs to.”
“I’m on it!” Allan yelled.
Morten returned to Mrs. Bang. She was shaking her head heavily
and straightening out her skirt, while mumbling to herself. I wondered
if she would ever again become a whole person after this. To be
attacked in your own home like this was terrible. She would
experience trauma for years afterwards.
“I’ll take her to the hospital in Esbjerg,” Morten said. “We can take
the morning ferry to the mainland. It leaves in an hour and a half. I’ll
leave the rest of the questioning for later.”
I stayed and helped clean up, but hours later, I decided to walk
home. Jack had to stay at the site to make sure it was all under
control. It took half an hour before I was finally at the doorstep to my
house. I glanced at the façade when the sunlight peeked up from
behind the horizon, behind the house. The light was gorgeous. I
thought about this strange house and all its history and wondered
about my grandmother’s sister, Helle Larsen. Her son had been
murdered, and now the mayor of the town had been as well. They
weren’t the same age; the mayor had recently turned fifty-five, I
remembered from the local paper. Ulrik Larsen had been sixty-eight
when he died. Could there be a connection between their deaths?
Could it be a coincidence? After so many years of being mayor, he
had probably made his share of enemies, but still. Something told
me there was more to this story than simply coincidence.
I didn’t get to finish the thought before the front door sprang open
and Kenneth jumped out towards me, followed by Maya holding on
to the leash.
20
 MAY 1959

O ld Hansen’s hip was doing better, and he didn’t need as much

help as earlier. Still, their father sent Ulrik and Peter down to help
him out every Saturday for many weeks to come, and old Hansen
was so pleased with their help. They fed the animals and fixed
whatever needed to be fixed.
One afternoon, when Ulrik was done with feeding the horse and
cleaning out the stalls, he started moving the bales of straw that
seemed to take up too much space. He grabbed one after the other
and moved them up against the wall, stacking them on top of each
other to make more room. Then, he grabbed a broom and started
sweeping the straw off the floor. That was when he came across
something that made his blood freeze. Peter was right behind him
and saw it too. A massive dried up bloodstain, right there on the
cement floor inside the stable. It had, up until now, been covered by
the straw.
“What do you think it is?” Peter asked.
Ulrik swallowed hard. He could hardly breathe. “It looks like
blood.”
“That’s a lot of blood,” Peter said.
“I know,” Ulrik replied.
“Do you think this is where he died?” Peter asked. He sounded
like he thought it was exciting. Ulrik felt nauseated. All those stories
he had heard about what happened to Hansen’s kid. Were they true
after all?
 Ulrik kept sweeping, trying to block out his brother. “I don’t know,”
he said. “It’s none of our business anyway.”
“This place gives me the creeps,” Peter said. “I feel like someone
is constantly watching us.”
Ulrik stopped sweeping. He had felt it too. It was like the old man
was constantly watching their every move. He had hoped it would
soon be over, that their dad would tell them they didn’t have to go
down there anymore, especially now that the old man was doing
better, but it hadn’t happened yet.
“Let’s just hurry up and finish what we have to do,” he said, and
swept even more forcefully. Dust and straw whirled into the air. Peter
sneezed.
“Gesuntheit,” a voice said behind them.
Ulrik gasped and turned. The old man was standing right behind
them. He was leaning on his cane, but not as heavily as he used to.
He was walking with more ease now, but still needed the cane for
support.
“Thank you,” Peter said, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
Usually, Ulrik would tell him to not do that, but not today. Today,
he stared at the old man while a shiver ran down his back.
Old Hansen looked at the blood stain. “I bet you wonder what that
came from, huh?”
Ulrik and Peter didn’t dare to look down. Cautiously, Peter
nodded. Ulrik didn’t dare to even move.
The old man came closer. He touched the stain with the tip of his
cane. “I didn’t see it happen,” he said.
“Was it your son?” Peter asked.
The old man stared at the stain. “Yes. Life never was the same
after this. There were times I wondered if it was even worth living,
you know?”
“What happened?” Peter asked.
Ulrik was petrified. Why did his brother keep asking these
questions? Ulrik just wanted to get out of there.
“You don’t know? I thought everyone around here knew,” Hansen
said. “Heard it through the grapevine, as they say.”
Peter shook his head. “Nnno, sir. I don’t think anyone knows.”
 Hansen shrugged. “Well, the stories they tell are probably better,
then. They do tell stories about it, don’t they?”
“Well, yes,” Peter said.
“So, what did happen?” Ulrik finally asked.
The old man looked at him. There were all kinds of emotions in
his eyes. Most of them were regrets.
“He killed himself. Shot himself with my rifle. Bang. Just like that,
and everything was destroyed. There’s your story. Not as exciting as
you imagined, huh? Well, tragedies rarely are.”
21
 NOVEMBER 2014

Idogs
tried to get some rest once the kids had left for school, but with the
in the house, it was impossible. Kenneth kept growling and
biting my comforter, pulling it of me. I put him in the hallway and shut
the door. He went quiet for a long time. That made me seriously
nervous. I walked into the hallway and saw that he had left a small
present for me on the rug.
“Kenneth!”
I grabbed him by the collar and carried him into the yard. When I
came back inside, I spotted Brutus sitting in the corner of the living
room. He was staring directly at me with his strange white eyes. I
paused. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. I still felt like he was
planning how to take over the house…or maybe even the entire
world.
“Don’t just sit there,” I said to him.
He still didn’t move. I sighed and let him be. He seemed to do
whatever pleased him anyway. I couldn’t understand how a big dog
like that could be that quiet, when the small one created such turmoil
wherever it went.
I walked to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then went
upstairs and removed the poop with a small bag before I picked up
the rug. I put it in the washer in the basement, then returned to my
coffeepot in the kitchen. The kids had eaten cereal and toasted
bread for breakfast, but I had made dough the night before, and all I
needed was to roll it out and make small buns to put in the oven, and
they would be ready for afternoon tea. I had made them with raisins
this time, trying to be a little healthier. I looked at myself in the mirror.
My black sweatpants were tight on my thighs. I didn’t feel too good
about myself. I decided to cut back on the sweets and maybe start
running on the beach. The thought made me tired. Why did it have to
be like that? Maybe there was some machine I could buy? I certainly
wasn’t going to try any of those diet pills that people used. I wasn’t
that desperate. One of my childhood friends had started Herbalife at
the age of eighteen and put on so much weight within the first year, I
could hardly recognize her. Still, she swore it was good for her to
keep using the product, and even tried to sell it to her friends,
including me.
I walked back to the kitchen and poured myself a big cup of
coffee. I really needed it. I pulled my laptop closer and turned it on. I
wondered about the fire and the mayor and if there was any news on
the tall slender man in the black suit. I couldn’t help thinking that I
had heard about a similar figure before, but I couldn’t remember
where. I hacked into the police case files and found that Morten
hadn’t written his report on the fire last night yet. I wondered if he
was even back from Esbjerg, and called him. He had just gotten
back. It had been hard, he said. Mrs. Bang had asked him to stay
while she talked to the doctors. She was scared of being alone. She
had always been with Erling. He had taken care of everything. Now,
she had no one. So, Morten had stayed a little while, till the doctors
gave her something to make her fall asleep. Then, he had finally left
and taken the ferry back. Morten and I talked for a little while, but he
was busy and about to write his report, he told me. The town was in
a state of shock at the loss of its mayor right before the election.
“Okay. I’ll let you get back to work. But tell me first if you found
anything new. What about the knife used to kill Ulrik Larsen? You
said you might be able to track it. Have you found out who owns it
yet?”
“As a matter of fact, I just received the serial number,” he said.
“I’ll pull it out of the system as soon as possible. First, I need to go to
the bathroom, then I’m getting a cup of coffee, and I’ll be right on it.
Talk to you later.”
 He hung up and I put the phone down. I sipped my coffee and
was wondering whether there was any chocolate in the cabinet,
when the front door opened.
“Hello?”
It was Sophia. She rushed into the kitchen.
“Easy there,” I said with a grin. “There’s coffee enough for the
both of us.”
“Have you seen it?” Sophia looked at the computer on my table. I
hadn’t had the time to open any programs yet.
“Seen what? If you’re talking about the fire last night that killed
the mayor, then yes. I saw it all. Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Sophia said, and sat down. I could hear Kenneth
barking on the back porch and scraping the door, wanting to get
inside.
“And you better get a refill as well. You’re going to need it,”
Sophia continued.
I frowned. “That sounds serious. What’s up?”
Sophia grabbed my computer and opened the Internet. I served
us both some coffee, then sat down next to her.
“What’s up with him?” Sophia asked, and turned her head.
I looked in the same direction and spotted Brutus sitting in the
corner of the room, staring at us.
“Where the heck did he come from?” I asked. The door to the
kitchen was still closed. How did he get in? “Brutus! Stop staring at
us. I swear, that dog freaks me out,” I said, and looked at Sophia.
“Not as much as this will,” she said, and turned the screen so I
could see.
It was a Facebook page. It had my picture as the cover and as
the profile picture. The pictures weren’t very flattering. The name of
the page was:
I HATE EMMA FROST.
What the heck?
Baffled, I read the description of the site:
“Emma Frost is an egotistical greedy twit, who doesn't know
when to stop. Her editors are monkeys, she thinks she's all that, and
she ruins everything. Join this group if you feel the same way about
this completely egotistical woman.”
 I scoffed, then read the information about the site. Under
personal information, it said: Emma Frost should go jump in a lake,
along with her enormous ego and her terrible books. Under personal
interests, it said: Emma Frost is a moron. She makes money out of
other people’s tragedies and deaths. She’s a vulture.
“I’m so sorry,” Sophia said. “I received a friend request earlier
today from this site. That’s how I saw it.”
I looked at Sophia and shrugged. “It’s very childish, really. No
one’s gonna care about what they write. I know I don’t.”
“Well, someone seems to care,” she said, and pointed to the top
of the site that showed the number of followers the site had.
“Wow, one hundred and seventy-nine followers?” I said, startled.
“The page was just created yesterday,” Sophia said.
“How can this be?” I tried hard to suppress the emotions going
through me at that moment. I thought I was well-liked? I knew there
would always be some people out there who didn’t like what you did,
especially as a writer. But hating me? That was a difficult pill to
swallow.
Sophia went back to the front page and pointed at the first post
made by the creator of the page. It was a story about me, of course,
and how I had illegally hacked into the police’s database to look into
case files in order to get material for my books. I swallowed hard and
looked at Sophia. That was some pretty serious stuff. How could this
person know this about me? No one except the people closest to me
knew.
“There’s more,” Sophia said. “It’s been quoted in all the big
newspapers online this morning. This could get ugly.”
22
 NOVEMBER 2014

T hey came for him while he was still in school. Rasmus saw them
from the window as they crossed the courtyard outside the old
building of Nordby High School. He knew who they were. Officers
Morten Bredballe and Allan Jorgensen. Their faces were serious as
they walked towards the front entrance of the high school. Mrs.
Nygaard had her back turned to her students while scribbling on the
whiteboard. Rasmus had no idea what she was talking about, and he
didn’t care. He hadn’t cared for a long time about anything in school.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was all the same crap anyway.
Growing up was bogus. Adults couldn’t be trusted. Was he supposed
to grow up and turn into one of them? There was no way. When he
looked at his parents, he saw nothing but miserable people. It wasn’t
worth it anyway. No, Rasmus didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t
want to end up like them or like any of all those pathetic adults he
was surrounded by.
For years, Rasmus had walked around with a knot in his
stomach…constantly worried about his mother. As a child, he
remembered crying in school because he was certain his mother
would die before he came home from school. He remembered the
fear inside of him because he never knew what his dad might do to
her. It could be little things that set him off. Like Rasmus opening the
door to the car into a hedge or pulling the handle too roughly on the
door. His dad would yell at him for days, then turn on his mother and
start yelling at her. Soon, he would be throwing things and slapping
her around. It was always set off by something Rasmus did, and
therefore, he always blamed himself. Growing up, he was constantly
terrified of doing anything wrong. He would tiptoe around the house,
making sure he didn’t make a sound to set off his dad’s anger. But
still, it kept happening, over and over again. His dad would even pull
him out of his room and put him in front of his mother so he could
see what he had done to her. The bruises on her face told him he
had been bad, that he had done wrong. Then he would fall to his
knees and cry and apologize and promise to never do anything
wrong again.
But he could never manage it. There would always be something.
When he did the dishes, he might put a plate down too hard on the
table. Or he might not have washed his hands properly before
dinner, or he might touch the door with wet hands trying to destroy it.
It wasn’t until his teenage years that he realized there would always
be something…that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be
able to be quiet enough or behave correctly in the eyes of his father.
That was when he decided he needed to get away. Nobody
wanted him around anyway. No one except Slender Man.
He had come to him a few months ago…inside Minecraft, his
favorite game. At first, Rasmus had been scared of him, but soon he
realized that Slender Man didn’t want to harm him. He had taken part
in Rasmus’ game and adopted him along with others. He told him he
was going to take good care of him and that he wanted him. He liked
him. He made Rasmus feel like he was worth something, like he was
wanted, and then he had told him to do something for him in return.
Rasmus hadn’t hesitated for one second. Not when Slender Man
had explained why it had to be done. It made sense. It gave Rasmus
a purpose in life. But he knew the officers coming for him would
never understand. That’s why he decided to keep quiet about
everything. They were coming to question him, but he wasn’t going
to give them anything. He had wondered if he should run, get away,
but there was nowhere to run. He didn’t have any money, and had
nowhere to go. Besides, he wasn’t alone in this. Slender Man would
take care of him. He had impressed him. That was what he had told
him after he had done it. Rasmus had never impressed anyone
before. It felt good, and he wanted to keep impressing him.
 The door to the classroom opened, and the principal stepped
inside, followed by the two officers. They talked to Mrs. Nygaard with
low voices and she looked down at Rasmus.
“Rasmus?” she said.
He looked at her.
“Pack your stuff. These gentlemen have some questions for you
to answer. You have to go with them.”
Rasmus had already packed everything and put on his jacket. He
stood up and walked towards them. As he left the class, all the
students of the school had their noses pressed against the windows.
He didn’t care about them. Just as he was about to get into the
police car, he looked between the trees of the small forest across
from the school. In there, between the trees, he was certain he
spotted him…that he saw Slender Man there. Rasmus touched his
nose and realized it was bleeding heavily. Rasmus wiped it away
with his sleeve, then smiled and got inside the car while singing to
himself:

Someone’s always watching me

Someone’s always there
When I’m sleeping he just waits,
and he stares
23
 NOVEMBER 2014

L isa Rasmussen couldn’t believe her luck. The mayor was gone.
Dead in a fire last night. A fire-arson set by some man in a suit. She
couldn’t have done it better herself. But it wasn’t her, and that was
almost the best part of it. She had thought about it many times, yes.
But someone else had beaten her to it. Now, she had no opponent
for the election, unless someone decided to run at the last minute,
that was, but that was very unlikely. And, even if they did, they would
be completely unknown to the public, and no one would vote for
them.
She decided to celebrate by having an organic wheat berry
tabouli salad for lunch at Café Mimosa downtown. She even bought
a kale and parsley-smoothie to top it off. It was a celebration, but she
still needed to stay strong and healthy.
Lisa was reading the local paper online with much satisfaction,
devouring everything they had written about the death of the mayor.
She tried hard to not seem too cheerful as she read about how he
was killed in the fire and how his wife made it out just in time. Lisa
had no idea who this guy in the suit was, but she owed him one.
“Now, it’s important that you show your support and grief over the
loss,” her campaign manager had said when she called that
morning. “This is a major opportunity for you to show the people your
human side, your soft side. You have to express your sadness in the
papers and give a heck of a speech at his funeral. I’ll write some
words if you need me to.”
 Lisa knew she was right. Now it was time for her to show that
side of her, even though it was hard. She wasn’t sure she had it in
her. Even if she was the only candidate, and she was sure to take
the seat, there would still be an election. People still had to like her.
She scrolled through the online articles in the national newspapers.
The death of the mayor on the small island wasn’t big news, but it
was mentioned in most of them. But something else out of the island
was a big story. The story of that writer, that Emma Frost-character.
Lisa read and devoured the story about Emma Frost using illegal
methods to research for her books. This was certainly interesting.
“Are you done with this? Do you want me to take your plate?”
The waitress, Julia, asked.
Lisa looked up and smiled. Julia smiled back. She was very fond
of Lisa, ever since Lisa had killed that serial murderer in her café a
year ago.
“I’m done. Thank you.”
“So, you’re going to be the mayor now, huh?” she asked.
Lisa smiled her election-smile. She liked that thought. She liked it
a lot. “Yes. Yes, I guess I am.” She paused, remembering what her
campaign manager had told her. Her face turned grave. “But, what a
tragedy. I feel so sorry for poor Mrs. Bang. I’m sad that these are the
circumstances in which I’ll take over the seat as mayor. It will be with
a heavy and grieving heart.”
My God, she sounded real statesmanlike. Almost presidential.
Well, what do you know? She did have it in her after all. The words
didn’t feel natural, but they fell at the right time. She could tell by the
look on Julia’s face.
“That’s not your fault. I, for one, am looking forward to having you
as mayor. I think you can do many great things for the island.”
“Well, thank you so much.”
“Could I interest you in a dessert?”
Lisa shook her head. “No. Must stay in shape. Election is coming
up.”
“It’s chocolate cake. Organic, naturally.”
It did sound interesting, but Lisa had her doubts. She couldn’t
allow herself to slack off now. She had to stay on course and not
show any weaknesses.
 “No. I’m sorry.”
Julia smiled and put the plate onto her tray. “Well, maybe next
time then.”
Lisa gathered her things and put her iPad back in her briefcase.
She had a busy afternoon ahead of her, with many important
meetings. As she received the bill and signed the receipt, she started
tasting the words.
“Mrs. Mayor. Mayor Rasmussen. Mayor Lisa Rasmussen. Mrs.
Mayor Lisa Rasmussen.”
It all had such a good ring to it, she thought to herself, as she
paid her bill and got up. This was what they would call her soon. This
was how she would sign her papers. As the mayor of the entire
island. She was exactly what this town needed. And no one could
stop her now.
24
 NOVEMBER 2014

Iit couldn’t stop reading the articles, even though Sophia told me to let
go. Once she had left, and we had drunk too much coffee and
eaten an entire box of chocolate, I grabbed my laptop and went
through the newspapers, trying to figure out what everyone was
writing about me. It was in all the papers by noon, and one of them
even wrote that people ought to stop buying my books, since they
had come to be by using illegal methods. It was unethical. Another
wrote that the police needed to start an investigation. I read
everything, and realized that whoever had written the article on the
Facebook page in the first place seemed like he had pretty thorough
documentation. He had taken parts of my books and details from
them and asked the police if those things had been in the media or
ever been mentioned publicly. The amount of details and insider
knowledge could in no way have been obtained without seeing the
case-files, he stated. Furthermore, he claimed to have solid proof
that he was willing to provide to the police. I couldn’t help wondering
what solid proof that could be? Was he himself some sort of hacker
and had he traced my IP address? How the heck did he know all
this?
I decided to leave it alone and got up from my chair. I poured
myself another coffee and found a candy bar that I ate in one bite. I
felt sorry for myself. The Facebook page had almost two hundred
followers by now. Were there really so many people who hated me? I
didn’t like the thought. I called Morten and told him everything. I even
cried a little.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. But I did
warn you about it. It’s not something that the chief of police will look
upon lightly. I just got off the phone with him and he told us to look
into the matter. I tried to tell him it was just a smear campaign, but he
wants us to confiscate your computer. I bought you some time by
telling him that we didn’t have the resources for that just yet, since
we had a double homicide going on, and that took all of our time.
Hopefully, he’ll leave it for now, but it did sound like it was a pressing
matter. Like there was someone higher up trying to get him to react
to this. It’s not good, Emma, but you already knew that.”
I hung up, feeling slightly nervous about the whole thing. While
chewing on another candy bar, I thought about Mrs. Bang and how
she had lost everything, and decided this was a small problem
compared to what she was going through. I still had my family and,
like everything else, this would blow over at some point too.
I sat down at the laptop again, still wondering about Mrs. Bang
and what she had said while sitting in Jack’s fire truck. The guy who
had set the house on fire had no face and was wearing a black suit
and tie. He was tall and skinny. Where had I heard about that
before? It rang a bell of some sort, but I couldn’t wrap my head
around it. I tapped the keyboard and googled it. I used keywords
such as skinny tall man suit and black tie. More than four million
results came up. I looked at the first page. They were mostly sites
selling clothes for big and tall men, a list of top five mistakes men
make when wearing ties, and seven rules for skinny ties. Finally, at
the bottom of the first page, something appeared that looked
interesting. A page in Wikipedia about someone called Slender Man.
I clicked it and started reading.
Later that night, when Morten came for dinner and the kids had
gone to bed, I brought it up.
“I read this today,” I said, and showed him the screen. “You might
want to take a look at it.”
“Slender Man?” Morten looked tired. “What’s that?”
“It’s like this Internet creation, a legend or a myth, if you like.
According to an article I read in The Washington Post, it’s an
invented character who can be traced back to an obscure forum
where, in 2009, some users Photoshopped old pictures and
improvised a backstory for their creations. He is depicted as a thin,
unnaturally tall man with tentacle-like arms, a blank and usually
featureless face, wearing a black suit. Stories of Slender Man
commonly feature him stalking, abducting, or traumatizing people.
The stories about him tend to change, depending on who is writing
them. But, in most stories, he abducts children by making them like
him, by watching them, and persuading them to do things for him. To
please him. Proximity to Slender Man is often said to trigger a
‘Slender sickness,’ a rapid onset of paranoia, nightmares, and
delusions, accompanied by nosebleeds. There are lullabies written
about him and so on. It’s a whole world we don’t know anything
about. It’s like they almost worship him.”
“Wait, now I remember something. Wasn’t there a case, a murder
in the States once that was inspired by this Slender Guy?”
“Slender Man,” I corrected him. “But, yes. I was getting to that.
On May 31, 2014, two twelve-year old girls in Wisconsin held down
and stabbed a classmate nineteen times. And get this. When
questioned later by authorities, they reportedly claimed that they
wished to commit a murder as a first step to becoming proxies—kind
of like acolytes of Slender Man. They had read about it online. One
of the girls said Slender Man watched her, can read minds, and
teleport. She was later found incompetent to stand trial, and her
prosecution was suspended until her condition improved.”
“So they tried to kill their friend as some sort of tribute to this
Slender Guy?” Morten asked.
“Man. And yes. You could say that. They wanted to impress him.
They said they wanted to prove that Slender Man was real.”
“So, you think this has something to do with the killing of Mayor
Bang, is that it?” Morten asked with a yawn. I could tell he thought it
was too far out.
“I don’t know. It just sounds like him, right? The description Mrs.
Bang gave in the truck.”
Morten leaned back on the sofa with his arms around his head. “I
don’t know, Emma. It sounds a little out there, don’t you think?”
 I shrugged. “Maybe. I just thought that maybe this killer was
somehow inspired by this Slender Man. You think that Lisa character
could be behind it? Maybe dressing up so she wouldn’t be
recognized?”
Morten chuckled. “That’s a conspiracy theory alright. Come on.
Why would she kill someone? To win the mayoral election? It’s not
the president we’re talking about here. It’s the mayor of an island
with a total population of three thousand people. It’s hardly that
attractive. Why do you think there have been no opponents to Erling
Bang for years? Because no one wants the seat. I wonder why this
Lisa Rasmussen even wants it. I’m sure she doesn’t want it that bad,
though.”
“You might be right. It does sound a little extreme.”
“We took in someone today for the murder of Ulrik Larsen, by the
way,” Morten said.
“Yeah? Who?”
“I pulled the serial number on the hunting knife and found that it
belonged to a Jens Krohn. He lives here in Nordby. Down by the DK
gas station.”
“Oh, yeah. I know where that is. Krohn, you say? I think his son
Rasmus is in Maya’s class at the high school.”
“Yes. We went there to get him. The old man blamed it on his
son. He told us the boy had taken the knife. We didn’t believe him, of
course. He was drunk and pathetic. We talked to the son for an hour
or so. He told us he didn’t know anything about a hunting knife, that
his dad would never let him touch his things. The mother confirmed
that Rasmus was never allowed even close to the dad’s hunting
equipment.”
“So, you kept the father locked up?” I asked.
“Yes. He had to sleep it off anyway. Looked like he could use a
little time to think, judging by the bruises on his wife’s face.”
“Oh, I hate that!” I exclaimed. “A drunk and a wife-beater.”
“We talked to the principal, who told us Rasmus hadn’t been able
to do PE for two weeks because of a severe bruise on his back.
They suspected the father had done that as well.”
“How I hope you’ll put him away for a long time,” I said, grinding
my teeth. It was one thing for him to beat his wife, but the son too?
How could anyone hurt a child?
Morten shrugged. “I’m afraid we probably can’t do that. It was his
knife, but there were no fingerprints found on it. It could have been
stolen to put the blame on him. It won’t stand a trial.”
25
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he numerologist clapped her hands in excitement. She was sitting

at home, going through her recordings of Emma Frost reading her
article online and freaking out about it. She had installed cameras in
Emma’s home many months ago and knew her every move. Oh,
what a joy it was to see her this perplexed, this baffled. She had no
idea what just hit her.
The numerologist grabbed Misty and put her on her lap. She
caressed the rat while watching Emma opening her second candy
bar. She was stress eating. It was such a wonderful sight. She was
clearly in distress. It was all going according to plan. But the
numerologist wasn’t done yet. Yes, she had hurt Emma; yes, this
would definitely end up having consequences for her one way or the
other, but it was far from being enough.
The numerologist clapped her hands again. This was such a fun
time. She had reached more than three hundred followers on the
Facebook page. People were writing on the wall how they were
appalled by Emma’s methods. How she should be ashamed of
herself. And, most importantly, people were so angry that they told
each other to start boycotting her books.
“I threw mine into the fireplace and burned them,” someone
wrote.
“I’m never buying any more of her books, and I’ve told my
daughter to get rid of those we have,” another wrote.
 “I can’t believe she would use illegal methods just to sell more
books. It’s disgusting. What else might she have hacked into?
Hospital journals? Private computers? Is she monitoring all of us just
to create a good story?”
The numerologist read the comments with much joy. This was
going better than she had hoped. A journalist had messaged her and
asked if they could do an interview to know more details about what
she knew. But the numerologist didn’t want to talk to journalists. She
loved that they printed her post and made it go viral like that, but she
wasn’t going to reveal who she really was. She was still visiting
Emma’s home in the afternoons, and today, she had the pleasure of
seeing the distress on Emma’s face and had even given her a few
words of comfort.
“I’m sure it will all pass in a few days,” she said. “They’ll find
someone else to bully. There will always be haters out there. Pay no
attention to them.”
She had said the words while repressing a smile planted on her
lips by the knowledge she carried, that she was behind this smear
campaign, and knowing that there was more to come.
The numerologist laughed out loud while preparing her next
move. She went to the public library and used their computer. She
found the right file and the email address to send it to. She had
created a fake email address to send it from, so they couldn’t trace it
back to her. Emma Frost was a genius with a computer, but the
numerologist had her skills as well. She knew enough to cover her
tracks. She chuckled behind the screen as she hit the send button.
She gathered her bag, with her rat comfortably sleeping inside of it,
then ran to her Toyota and drove back to her small apartment. She
meditated for a few hours, sitting on the small mat on the floor, but it
was hard to clear her head properly. So many thoughts flickered
through her mind. She kept getting up and looking at the computer,
wondering if the email had been opened, wondering what the
reaction was going to be. What if he ignored the email? What if he
didn’t click the link?
Stop it. You’re being paranoid. Of course he will. Relax. It’ll be
fine. The numbers are with you. The universe and stars aligned. It
couldn’t be a more perfect time. Remember, November is the month
everything will change. The numbers told you. Remember the five in
the upper right side of the pyramid.
The numerologist closed her eyes and sighed deeply, feeling
relaxed. Yes, it was all going to go exactly as planned. Nothing could
stop her now.
Five was her number. The number of change. The number of
death.
26
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he phone wouldn’t stop ringing the following day. Journalists from

every media outlet wanted to ask me if the accusations against me
were true, if I wanted to make a statement. I told them I wasn’t
interested in talking to anyone. I knew I would come off as guilty, but
then again, I was guilty. I had done those things. I had hacked the
police files, I had hacked into private bank accounts, and I had
hacked the government. I had even, at one point, hacked into the
national social security register, the register that contained
everything there was to know about everyone in the country. It was a
felony, and not one looked upon lightly. I had known it all along, but
never thought I’d get caught. I was very careful. My ex-boyfriend had
taught me everything I knew, and especially how to not get caught. I
couldn’t believe someone had tracked me anyway. The question was
whether they had the proof they claimed to have? Or if it was all just
a bluff. If they had something solid, would it be enough to have me
convicted? If so, I could face up to years in prison for this. It was
sensitive information I was messing with. I had no idea how much
they knew. I stared at my laptop and wondered what to do. It
wouldn’t be long before they demanded to take it. It contained all the
information and would reveal just how busy I had been.
I had to get rid of it.
I felt awful. This computer had been with me for years. But it was
also evidence. I opened the cover and started transferring all the
data, including all my books, to a micro SD card. I ran a program to
wipe the hard drive clean, but wasn’t sure it was enough. I knew
there were still ways to recover the data. I couldn’t risk that. I hid the
SD card inside a hollow wooden chesspiece in my living room, then
took the computer outside and smashed it onto the tiles on my back
porch. I found a hammer and started smashing it to pieces. Kenneth
circled me, barking, then grabbed a letter from the keyboard that
sprang loose and ran away with it.
“Don’t eat that, Kenneth!”
The dog kept running and hid among the trees. I ran after him
and fought him to get the piece out of his mouth.
“You’ll choke on this,” I said, showing it to him once I had won the
battle. “Annoying as you might be, my daughter really likes you, so I
intend to keep you around for a little longer.”
I had just gotten back to the remains of the computer when I
heard a car drive up in front of the house. I looked through the
windows of the house and saw a big black van drive into my
driveway on the other side. I had a bad feeling about it.
Frantically, I attacked the computer with the hammer and
smashed it into bits and pieces, but I wasn’t sure it was enough. I
was afraid they might be able to get to the hard drive anyway. I
pulled the hard drive out and smashed it with the hammer, while
hearing someone knocking hard on my front door. The hard drive
cracked, but didn’t seem to break. I heard voices yelling and more
knocking, then I spotted a small can of lighter gas next to the
barbeque grill. I poured it on top of the remains of the computer, then
lit it on fire. The fire crackled and it smelled awful, but it melted fast.
Soon, the hard drive turned into liquid piles of molten goo.
Seconds later, some guy in a suit stormed into the house and
soon spotted me on the porch. Three other guys, also wearing suits,
flanked him. They looked like they had just stepped out of a movie
about secret agents or the FBI.
“Outside,” one of them yelled.
The first guy came out. He showed me his badge. It looked
different that Morten’s. “PE,” he said.
I swallowed hard. The National Police Intelligence Force,
Politiet’s Efterretningstjeneste? Here? In my backyard? It was
surreal.
 They stared at the computer on the tiles, or what was left of it. I
tried to smile, but it came off awkward.
“My computer caught on fire while I was using it. It was old.
Probably the battery or maybe I used the wrong charger, huh?”
The man looked seriously at me. “That’s evidence. Destroying
evidence is a serious offense.”
“Is it evidence? Ah, well I’m sorry, but it just caught on fire
accidentally a few minutes ago. I was lucky I managed to get it
outside before it burned down the entire house, huh? Real lucky.
Phew. Boy…”
The man looked at his three colleagues. “We’ll take it in anyway.”
The three guys started picking up whatever was left. The man
who had spoken came close to me. “Do you have any other
computers in the house?”
“Only my daughter’s upstairs, but that’s…”
He lifted a hand to shut me up. “We’ll take that one as well.”
“You can’t do that. My daughter has all her stuff on it. She’ll kill
me. She needs it for homework.”
“She’ll have to manage without.”
“Come on, guys! She’s just a teenager. You know how they are.
They play Minecraft, use Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. They
can’t live without their computers.”
“As I said. She’ll have to manage. Our orders are to remove
every computer from this house. So, that’s what we’ll do.”
27
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
TMorten sounded as surprised as?”I was. I was holding the phone
to my ear as I watched the men in suits put Maya’s computer into
their van and take off. I felt violated somehow, like they were robbing
me, invading my private life. I hated the way they looked at me, like I
was some criminal.
Which I was, of course.
“Yes, but luckily mine had caught on fire before they got here,” I
said. I felt paranoid and didn’t want to tell him what had really
happened over the phone, in case they were listening in on this
conversation. If PE was involved, anything could happen.
“It caught on fire? How?” Morten sounded confused.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “But they took the remains and Maya’s
computer. They told me I couldn’t even go close to a computer for a
long time, since there was an investigation going on. I can’t even go
to the library, they said. If I use a computer, they’ll lock me up.” I was
about to cry as I spoke. I felt such a mixture of emotions. Anger was
definitely among them, but I was also nervous and scared.
“What will they do to me? Could I go to jail for this?” I asked.
Morten exhaled. “I don’t know, Emma. It’s pretty serious stuff.
They just sentenced a guy to four years in prison for doing
something similar.”
My heart dropped. “I read about that case. It was a Danish guy
and some Swedish guy, right?”
 “Yep. They broke into the police files and the social security
register. Didn’t steal anything or do anything, but breaking in is
enough.”
I leaned on the counter in my kitchen. I felt so bad. I had always
thought it was all right since I had good intentions, since I did it to
gather information about and help solve cases, but they didn’t know
that. They didn’t care what my intentions were. Breaking in was
breaking in. A crime was a crime. I had even broken into people’s
bank accounts. Not to steal, but that didn’t matter. I could have
stolen from them if I wanted to.
“I feel terrible,” I said.
“I’m sure things will work out, but for now, lay low, okay? Don’t do
anything stupid. And whatever you do, stay away from computers.
Promise me that.”
“How am I supposed to work? I’ve already passed the deadline
for my next book. What do I do?”
“Call your editor and tell her everything, then call your lawyer and
find out your options. Now, I have to run. Busy day around here. We
have a missing person’s report this morning. A Laiyla Ejlersen is
missing. Her mother was here to tell us. We have to go and talk to
her husband later. Her mother thinks he killed her. Probably nothing,
but we have to check it out.”
“Did you ever find the owner of that bike in the bushes at Mayor
Bang’s house?” I asked.
“Sure. It belonged to some kid named William Korsvig. He’s
some high-school kid. We gave it back to him. He told us it had been
stolen the other night.”
“I know him. He’s in Maya’s school too. He was in her class last
year, but was held back a year because he was absent too much.
His mom remarried two years ago, Maya told me. She liked him, but
he turned so angry when the step-dad moved in, and he cut off all of
his friends. She told me she felt so sorry for him because the step-
dad didn’t care much about him, nor did his mother since his step-
dad had moved in. Do you think he had something to do with the
fire?”
“No. That’s ridiculous,” Morten said.
 Thoughts flickered through my mind. I couldn’t wrap my head
around them, but something was wrong here, my gut told me. “It’s
just a little strange that two teenage boys would turn up in this
investigation, don’t you think?”
Morten sighed. I knew he was closing his eyes and rubbing his
forehead, like he always did when he was tired and annoyed. “No,
Emma. I don’t think so. We don’t even know if the two deaths are in
any way related. After all, the mayor had his share of enemies,
people that wanted him removed from his post. Kind of comes with
the territory. Not everything he’s done has been popular around
here. No, there’s nothing that indicates that the two deaths are
related. They are two very different methods of killing. I think you’re
seeing ghosts, Emma.”
“That might be…but…”
Morten interrupted me. “Focus on getting your own stuff in order
now, Emma. I’ll focus on the police work. Please, just promise me
you’ll stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll try,” I said and hung up, knowing very well that there was no
way I could keep that promise.
28
 NOVEMBER 2014

T hey met at the old lighthouse on the tip of the island. No one
would see them this time of year when there were almost no tourists.
The wind blew hard from the North Sea and made the tips of their
noses red. They didn’t hug or shake hands when they met. All they
did was exchange looks, then turn to stare at the raging ocean
beneath them.
“I was surprised you called,” Peter Larsen said.
He had changed a lot since back then, Jonna Frederiksen
thought. He looked like an old man now. He was wearing a leather
jacket with a big eagle on the back and the letters HA on it. Jonna
knew what it meant. Peter had been in the Hell’s Angels for many
years now. It was his choice. He had made a lot of strange choices
in his life since their ways parted many years ago.
“I thought it was important,” she said.
“I guess,” Peter said. His long silver hair was caught by the
strong wind. Jonna observed him closely. He was still quite
handsome. Always had been. But it hadn’t been him she had loved.
It had been his brother. Her first great love.
“I guess you heard he’s gone,” Peter said.
Jonna pulled up the hood of her long coat. She thought about
how wonderful her life had been back then. How beautiful everything
had been. The sky, the clouds, even the trees seemed to have been
more colorful back then.
“I did. I’m so sorry…”
 Peter shook his head. “Don’t be. It won’t change anything.”
“No, I’m sorry he died before you made up with him. He did what
he did for you, you know.” Jonna said, insisting. She was looking at
Peter now. He seemed just like the spoiled kid he had been back
then…not understanding his brother’s love, how far it went and how
deep it was.
“I know,” Peter said. “I know he did what he felt like he had to do.
But that doesn’t make it right.”
“What he protected you from wasn’t right, Peter. You must know
that.” Jonna said. She sighed. This wasn’t why they were supposed
to meet. They hadn’t spoken in almost half a century. It wasn’t a time
to be arguing about the past.
“What he did was wrong. He made many bad choices that I can’t
forgive,” Peter said.
“Let’s not argue,” Jonna said. “We’re the only two left.”
“I know. Erling died in that fire.” Peter shook his head. “He was a
good mayor for many years.”
“Do you think there’s a connection?” Jonna asked.
Peter sucked in air through his teeth. “I’d be lying if I said I
haven’t thought about it.”
“Me too. But who? Who would know?” she asked.
Peter shrugged. “I have no idea. But it is strange.”
They both went very quiet. The silence was tough on both of
them, since they knew what the other was thinking.
Could I be next?
“So, what should we do?” Jonna asked. “Do you have any
suggestions?”
“I’m getting out of here,” Peter said. “Taking the ferry first thing in
the morning. Should have done it many years ago. This island has
too many bad memories.”
“Where will you go?” Jonna asked.
He shrugged again. “Anywhere and everywhere. Ride my
motorcycle into the unknown. Ride till I can’t anymore. I’ve always
dreamt of touring around Europe. Just keep going till I run out of
cash.”
Jonna looked out at the ocean. The waves were crashing the
shore. The ocean looked almost black. She could have sworn it
hissed at her and reminded her of what she had done.
She nodded calmly. There was no way she could do the same.
She was strong and agile, but she could never leave this island. No
matter how bad things got, she simply had to live with it. She had to
manage. And if someone came for her, then well…she’d simply have
to defend herself, even if it meant she’d lose. Besides, there was
something else she wanted to do before she left this earth,
something she had always dreamt of. And that involved staying on
the island.
She thought about shaking his hand, but knew he hated her as
much as he had hated his brother for their actions back then.
“Well, God’s speed then. Travel safe,” she said, and took one last
glance at his beautiful face, remembering those joyful times back
then with his brother.
“Thanks.”
29
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
TMaya looked like it was something
?”
I had decided, like it was all
my fault. She had just come home from school and thrown her bag in
the hallway when I told her.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I couldn’t help it. It was the Police Intelligence
Force. Do you have any idea how serious that is?”
Maya scoffed. “But…but…couldn’t you just have said no?”
“You don’t say no to these people, believe me,” I said, trying to
sound like it was no big deal. “You’ll get it back as soon as they’re
done with it.”
“But…” Maya’s cheeks had turned red. I could tell she wanted to
yell at me.
“It’s not my fault,” I said.
“But they took it because of what you’ve done, right?” she asked.
“Because they think you’ve been hacking. Don’t you think I know
that? Don’t you think everyone is talking about you in school? It is so
embarrassing, Mom!”
“I’m sorry, Maya, but there isn’t much I can do about it.” I looked
at the kitchen table. I had set it all up for when the kids got home.
Being without a computer gave me a lot of extra time. I had even
cleaned all the bathrooms upstairs.
“I made hot chocolate. Come and sit. I even baked a cake. Carrot
cake. Your favorite.”
“That’s not my favorite,” she snarled.
 “Is it Victor’s then? I can’t remember. But I’m sure you’ll like it.
Come, have a piece. Everything will look much brighter after a piece
of cake and hot chocolate. Victor should be home in a few seconds
as well.”
Maya looked like she was about to explode. “I need that
computer!”
“And I would gladly buy you a new one if I was allowed to. But I
can’t go anywhere near a computer until they’re done with the
investigation.”
Maya stomped her feet on the kitchen floor, then ran up the stairs
and slammed her door. I heard music thumping seconds later.
I felt agitated and upset, so I sat down and had just cut myself a
piece of the cake when Victor came in.
“Hi, buddy. Just in time. I made your favorite cake,” I said.
“Where’s Brutus?” he said. Ever since we got that dog, it was all
he ever talked about or even looked at. I was air to him.
“Probably sitting in the living room, as usual,” I said, and took a
bite of my cake.
“I need to take him for a walk.”
I shrugged while giving up being able to eat together as a family.
“Knock yourself out,” I said. “Cake will still be here when you return.”
Victor left to take care of Brutus, while Kenneth was gnawing on
one of the legs of my chair. He was growling as he tore the wood into
pieces. I didn’t even bother trying to stop him. I sighed and drank my
coffee, feeling a little lost. Without being able to write, I was bored, to
put it mildly. I loved my job. I loved snooping around on the Internet.
Heck, I loved going on Facebook and reading all the crap people
posted.
They didn’t say anything about my iPad, did they?
I ate another piece of my cake while shaking my head. No, they
had only said computer. They had only taken our computers, not our
phones or my iPad. Well, I didn’t actually tell them I had one. They
hadn’t asked either. So, did that mean I was allowed to access the
Internet on them? I decided it did. I walked to the living room,
grabbed my iPad from the drawer and went back to the kitchen, just
as Sophia stormed in. I knew something was wrong just by the look
on her face.
 “Have you seen it?”
I shrugged. “I guess not. I mean I’ve seen a lot lately, but try me,”
I said and sat down.
“Where’s your computer?” she asked and looked at where my
laptop used to be.
“Taken, burned, whichever you prefer.”
She shook her head, looking baffled. “What?”
“Long story. PE was here. The computer caught on fire. Not in
that order, but to get to the point, it’s gone. The computer is gone.
PE took Maya’s as well.”
Sophia looked at the iPad in my hands. “But you still have your
iPad; that’s good. Log onto Facebook. I need to show you
something.”
I tapped on the iPad, when I heard a noise by the door. It opened
and Morten stepped in. I looked at the clock on the wall.
“What are you doing here this early? Has something happened?”
Sophia looked shocked. “I was too late,” she said.
Morten hung his head. Then he nodded.
I looked from one to the other. “Would anyone mind letting me
know what the hell is going on here?”
30
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
TMorten
hey suspended me from the force.”
sat down at the table; Sophia had poured him a cup of
coffee that he didn’t touch. I hadn’t seen him in this much distress
before. It scared me like crazy.
“But why?” I asked. “What happened?”
“I…I…” Morten looked at me. His voice was breaking. “I’m not
sure I even understand it myself.”
“It was that page again, Emma,” Sophia said. “That Facebook
page. I was trying to tell you. I came over as soon as I read it.”
I felt the blood boiling inside of me. “They wrote something that
hurt Morten and got him suspended?” I asked.
“Yes.” Sophia turned the iPad and showed me. A picture of
Morten was on the wall, the text underneath saying:
EMMA FROST’S BOYFRIEND A SICK PERVERT?
I looked at Sophia. “Do I even want to read this?”
Morten shook his head. “Don’t. I don’t want you to read it.”
“Just tell me what it says,” I said and sipped my coffee.
“We need something stronger for this,” Sophia said and got to her
feet. She pulled out the old whiskey that we only drank when she
was around. She put some in all of our coffees. I sipped mine again
and felt the alcohol burn my throat. Morten drank all of his and asked
for more.
“Okay. Break it to me gently,” I said. “What have the bastards
written about you? All lies, I suppose.”
 Morten tilted his head. “Well…not exactly.”
“What?”
“I opened an email,” he said. “It contained a link. I thought it was
harmless, but there were animals in it. They were being…well they
were…”
“Raped by humans,” Sophia said. “It was porn. At least according
to the article on Facebook.”
I almost choked on the coffee. “What? Why would you be looking
at that kind of stuff?”
“I had no idea what it was. But apparently, the video was
downloaded to my work computer and I didn’t know. It’s illegal to
download that kind of movie, so now I might be charged with
possession of illegal porn. And I was suspended until they can look
into the matter.”
I leaned back in the chair. “I…I don’t know what to say to this. I’m
completely baffled. It’s so surreal that all of this is happening to us.
Someone is out to ruin us, to destroy us. And he’s succeeding, isn’t
he?”
“It looks like it,” Sophia said. “People are writing some ugly stuff
about you online. I won’t go into the details, but it’s not very nice.”
“And it’s hurting my book sales. My publisher called earlier and
told me several of the bookstores have sent my books back, since
they can’t sell them anymore or won’t because of the ethical stuff,
the way they were created. Can you believe this?” I asked looking at
them both. “Who the hell is behind this?”
“I don’t know,” Sophia said. “It’s so easy to be anonymous these
days. Online, you can say anything you like without having to answer
to anyone. It’s really ugly.”
I looked at Morten, who looked so incredibly ashamed. “And you.
Why on earth would you open a link like that? Why would you click
on it?”
“I…the email came from you,” he said. “It said in the email that it
was something cute I had to see, so I clicked on it.”
“I never send emails like that, and I’d certainly never send that
one.”
“It came from EmmaFrost12@hotmail.com, so I assumed you
had stumbled onto something that you wanted me to see.”
 “First of all, I’ve had no computer all day…”
“It was this morning. The email was sent last night,” Morten
argued.
“Okay. But that’s not my email address. I use Gmail. You know
that.”
Morten shrugged. “Well, I do now. To be honest, I didn’t notice it
was a Hotmail address till afterwards. I just saw your name.”
“And by then, it was too late,” I said.
31
 APRIL 1964

DI amSsorry that
,
it has been so long since my last letter. Things
have been busy here at the farm. You wouldn’t believe how big the
boys are now. Ulrik is turning eighteen this fall, Peter just turned
sixteen, and Per is five years old now. Oh, how time flies. You
wouldn’t believe it.
Ulrik is working full time on the farm with Claes now, and has
been since he finished ninth grade two years ago. He wanted to go
to high school like the other children, he said, but Claes wouldn’t
hear of it. The boy is going to be a farmer and doesn’t need to read
books, he said. I guess he’s right. It is just difficult when you know
your son really likes to read books and actually enjoys school. I
thought about talking to Claes about letting Ulrik go to high school
and let Peter take over the farm instead, since Peter loves working
with his hands and can’t wait to get out of school. But that’s not the
way Claes wants it to be. The oldest takes over the farm, just like he
himself took over from his father. He is very firm on that, and I can’t
argue with him.
But it is difficult as a mother to see your son look at his brother
with longing jealous eyes as he takes his bike and rides it to school
every morning. Per will start school next year as well, and then Ulrik
will be the only kid left at the farm all day. It’s going to be tough on
him. He doesn’t seem to enjoy this work much, nor does he seem to
look forward to his future here on the farm. I worry about him a lot,
but you probably know how that is, having a son of your own.
Since Ulrik is working full time here now, there isn’t much work for
Peter to do once he gets out of school, so our neighbor, old Hansen,
is paying him to work on his farm every weekend. I do think Peter will
be the one using his hands for a living. He is very skilled in almost all
areas of handiwork, especially when it comes to carpentry. That is
where his real skills lie. He has built an entire new barn for Old Mr.
Hansen and helped put a new roof on his house. Peter certainly will
do well in this life, I am sure.
Our youngest, Per, is still the one bringing me the most joy. He is
such a happy child. Oh, sister, I wish you could come and visit again
soon and see how big he is now and experience how wonderful a
boy he has turned out to be. Everyone loves being in his company
and he always makes me laugh. He has a way with animals. You
should see him with the dogs. He plays with them and trains them to
do all kinds of tricks. He likes the outdoor life and spends most of his
time with the animals. He rides our horses and they seem to obey
his every command. It’s truly amazing. He even adores the pigs and
has named all of them, even though I’ve told him that he really
shouldn’t, since they’re meant to be slaughtered eventually. He
doesn’t seem to care. I’m curious how he will take it once he has to
start school in the fall. He’ll be devastated to not be able to spend
time with the animals all day. Well, it’s the way it must go, I guess.
He’ll grow up and be a blessing to this world. I’m sure of it. He’s such
a beautiful boy. Such a delight to be around. Never gets himself in
trouble. Nothing like his older brothers. I still consider him my baby,
but I guess it will always be like that with your youngest.
How are things in the city? Is Bengt still doing well in school? I
will try and see if I can come for a visit in the fall if Claes permits it.
He seems to think we have more important things to do than go to
the city. I try and tell him I would like to see something different for
once. I’m tired of cornfields and pigsties. We will harvest the wheat in
August…that’s the busiest time of the year for us. Maybe I will find
the time to come for a visit in September or October. I can’t believe it
has been almost three years since we last saw each other. Where
does the time go?
With love,
Helle
32
 NOVEMBER 2014

IiPad
put the letter back in the envelope and into the box. I stared at the
on the table. Morten was walking around upstairs. He hadn’t
been able to rest all afternoon. Neither had I, and I thought reading
one of my grandmother’s letters would make me forget my troubles. I
had succeeded for a little while, but now it was all back again. I felt a
knot in my stomach, and it wasn’t because of the carrot cake that I
had finished all by myself; it was because of the uncertainty, the
anxiety for the both of us. What was this going to mean for us?
I had called my lawyer, Helene Quist, and she promised to look
into the matter. She asked me to send her an email with all the
information. I couldn’t help laughing.
“I’m not allowed near a computer,” I said, still chuckling.
“Oh. I forgot. Well then, I’ll call PE and tell them they’ll have to go
through me from now on, and have them send over the charges
against you. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t you worry.”
But I did. I worried like crazy, wondering if I would have to go to
jail. Wondering if I would ever be able to sell a book again.
I grabbed the iPad and went online. I checked the Facebook
page. Almost a thousand followers now, and lots of nasty comments
on the story about me, and even more on the one about Morten. I
closed the app and went online to check the newspapers. Morten’s
story wasn’t front-page news, but they all mentioned his suspension.
Only because he was my boyfriend; otherwise, they wouldn’t have
bothered. It annoyed me. Everything about this affair annoyed me
immensely. Especially the fact that I felt paralyzed. This guy could
post all these things about me and my loved ones, and I couldn’t do
a damn thing about it. How was that even possible? It was spreading
like a fire around the web and people were getting in line to scold
me. Why were people so nasty online?
So, what was I supposed to do now? Just sit here and take a
beating? What else would this person come up with?
I’m not gonna just sit here and take it. The hell I am.
I got to my feet and walked to the closet in the hallway. I found a
hooded sweater and a big fluffy jacket that I hardly ever used. I also
found a dark-haired wig that I had bought for Fastelavn, but never
used. I put it all on and pulled the hood over my head. I looked in the
mirror, then pulled out a drawer in the dresser. I found a pair of my
dad’s glasses that he had forgotten when visiting one day and put
them on as well. There. No one would recognize me now.
Kenneth barked at me like I was an intruder, but he always did
that. I gave him an old shoe to gnaw. That should keep him busy for
a little while. I yelled to Morten and Maya that I was going out for a
little, then left. I walked through town in the drizzle, sensing how my
steps became angrier and more powerful the more I walked. Why
was this strange person behind the Facebook page so keen on
hurting me? On hurting Morten? What did he get out of it? I didn’t
understand how anyone could act like this. It was a fair amount of
work he had put into finding these accusations against us. It took a
lot of work and planning to create the email and send it to Morten,
not to mention all the work it took to find out in which passages in my
books I had provided details that weren’t known to the public. This
guy was really out to get me, and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to
stop anytime soon.
I entered the public library, found a computer, and sat down,
making sure no one spotted me. I opened Facebook and found the
page that had the articles about Morten and me, then I opened
Morten’s Hotmail account that I knew the password for. I scrolled
down and found the email allegedly sent from me.
“Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble here,” I mumbled. “Creating a
false account in my name and everything.”
 I looked around to make sure no one was watching me, then
started a trace to find which IP address the email had been sent
from. While waiting for the result, I tapped my fingers and looked
around nervously again. The librarian, Mrs. Houman, was deeply
buried in the newspaper behind the counter. She paid no attention to
me. Still, I constantly felt like I was being watched. But I had felt that
a lot lately.
The result came up and, to my surprise, the IP address was the
library, the same address that I was stationed at. In other words,
whoever was behind this had used the computers at the library to
send the email to Morten. He wasn’t sitting behind a computer
somewhere far away ruining my life. He was here on the island
somewhere.
33
 NOVEMBER 2014

L isa Rasmussen felt annoyed as she parked the car in front of

SuperBrugsen, the city’s only supermarket. She had spent the
afternoon in meetings and just got the call that one of the local police
officers had turned out to be a pervert and had been suspended for
being in possession of some outrageous porn. To top it off, he was
Emma Frost’s boyfriend, so the story was all over the online
newspapers already.
Lisa sighed aggressively and looked out through the windshield.
It was raining heavily now. It was dark already. On the streetlamp,
her poster was getting soaked. Someone had painted a mustache on
her upper lip. Lisa felt tired. Tired of this island and its people. She
couldn’t believe them. Didn’t anyone have any respect anymore?
Especially, Emma Frost annoyed her immensely. She was bad news
for the island. All those stories going on right now attracted the
wrong kind of attention to the island. And Lisa was trying to get the
tourism back. It was her cause, the one that was going to get the
islanders to love her.
Luckily, there still hadn’t been another candidate announced, and
she doubted that there was going to be, since there were less than
two weeks till the election.
“You will be mayor, Lisa, no doubt about it. There’s nothing that
can stop you now. Don’t worry. Just breathe,” she told her own
reflection in the rearview mirror. “They will come to love you. They
will learn to. Or you’ll make them.”
 Lisa closed her eyes and calmed down. All this bad publicity was
getting to her. How was she supposed to fix things? How was she
supposed to get people to return here? This island lived off the
tourists. And it was like it kept getting worse and worse. One bad
thing after the other. The news of the old man Larsen, who was killed
in his home, had spread as well. So had the story of the mayor
getting killed in the fire, even though they had told the newspapers it
was an accident. Lisa had held a meeting with her people and asked
them to figure out what to do about the island’s bad reputation. If she
was going to get people to elect her and love her as a mayor for
bringing back the tourists and the good reputation of the island, she
needed to do something extraordinary. They had to figure out what
that could be. But their suggestions hadn’t been useful so far.
Amateurs. Always surrounded by freaking amateurs.
Lisa took in a deep breath to calm herself down. She puffed her
hair with her hands to make it look good, then put on her election
smile before she exited the car. She grabbed a cart and walked
through the sliding doors, smiling at everyone and nodding, even if
they didn’t look at her.
“Hello. Don’t forget to vote,” she said to as many people as
possible. It was her campaign manager who had told her it was
important that she was seen in public doing ordinary chores, but
always with a smile and showing her best side. It was all about
appearing ordinary, showing she was one of them. According to a
questionnaire, that was the only problem the islanders had with her.
That she wasn’t local; she wasn’t one of their own. They didn’t like
that. So now, Lisa had to show them that she was just like them. Lisa
grabbed some cereal, put it in the cart, and continued down the
aisle. She nodded and smiled at a couple she passed while grabbing
a head of lettuce to go with the lasagna she was preparing for
tonight. She hurried past the meat, since she wouldn’t be needing
any of that for quite awhile. She had the entire freezer full. When she
stopped at the fruit section, a cart was blocking her way. A woman
was bent over the apples. Lisa needed oranges and had to pass the
woman to get to them, but couldn’t.
She clenched her fist, but kept smiling. There was nothing more
annoying than when people blocked the way with their cart and then
took forever to move it. Lisa cleared her throat to let the woman
know she was waiting for her. The woman didn’t react. Lisa looked at
her while her nostrils flared, but kept smiling. She cleared her throat
again, this time a little louder. The woman still didn’t react. She was
touching all the apples, feeling them one after another in her hands
to see if they were ripe. She even smelled some of them and had her
disgusting nose touch them before she put them back. That annoyed
Lisa even more. She had to address it.
“You’re not supposed to touch all of them,” she said.
The black-haired woman turned her head and looked at her. She
was Asian. Lisa bit her lip. She had never liked Asian people much.
Never trusted them. Something about their eyes just wasn’t right.
They had all kinds of diseases out there in the East, didn’t they? Lisa
had always been terrified of getting SARS or MERS, or whatever
those diseases were called. Especially, bird flu scared the crap out of
her. What those Asians did to those birds to get the disease, she
never wanted to know.
“Excuse me?” the Asian woman asked.
Lisa wrinkled her nose. “You’re touching all of them,” she said.
“It’s gross. Don’t touch those, and certainly don’t put your nose on
them if you’re not buying them. Think about others. Besides, your
cart is blocking the way so no one can pass you.”
To Lisa’s surprise, the Asian woman burst out into loud laughter.
It was very odd, Lisa thought. Everything about this woman came off
as very odd. The woman was still chuckling as she grabbed another
apple and put it in her small plastic bag. “I just need one more,” she
said. “Then I have five. Five is my lucky number, you see.”
Lisa sighed and looked at her watch. It was getting late. She had
a dinner to cook. “Please, just move your cart a little,” she said. “I’m
in a hurry.”
The Asian woman smiled from ear to ear. “I can tell,” she said.
“Your entire aura is completely messed up. You really should calm
down a little.”
Lisa snorted. “I don’t have the time to calm down a little. I’m very
busy, as you can see. Now, please, just move your cart.”
“I could clean it for you, you know?” the woman said. “I could
clean your aura. I’m guessing your life path number is all wrong for
you. I could help you find a new name and completely change your
life. You’ll be surprised when you realize how much it means.”
Lisa’s eyes glowed in anger. What the heck was this? Who was
this insane woman? Never had she heard anything this ridiculous.
“Listen. I have a family to get home to, that doesn’t see me much,
and I have a very important election coming up. I really just want to
get to the oranges over there, so I can be done and go home. Do
you have any idea who I am?”
“No.”
Lisa stared paralyzed at the woman in front of her. She still hadn’t
moved her cart. She picked up her purse and Lisa noticed that there
was something inside of it. A small face peered out. Lisa gasped and
pointed.
“A…a rat!”
The Asian woman kissed the disgusting rat on the mouth. It
returned the kiss by licking her nose before she put it back in her
purse with a smile. Lisa could have thrown up right on the spot. She
could hardly speak; the anger was boiling in her throat.
“You…you…brought a RAT to the supermarket? You have it near
the food? You kiss it on the mouth and let it lick your nose? The
same filthy nose that you use for sniffing the fruit?”
The Asian woman shrugged. “Yeah. So?”
Lisa had no more words. She was so shocked she couldn’t stand
being in the supermarket anymore. She grabbed the handle of her
cart, then smashed it into the woman’s cart several times until the
cart moved sideways enough for her to get through. With a loud
whimper of distress and anger, Lisa stormed past her towards the
cashier, while thinking to herself:
No wonder they get all these diseases out there! Well, I’m not
having it here. Not on our peaceful island. I’m not. I’m simply not
tolerating it!
As she threw her groceries on the counter for the cashier to ring
them up, she stared at the moving objects, still in shock, while
mumbling, “I’m such a fool. We just had lasagna last week. I’ll serve
sausages instead.”
34
 NOVEMBER 2014

W hen I came home from the library, Morten was sitting in the
kitchen. He looked upset.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“I told you I went out for a little bit.”
“You’ve been gone for two hours,” he snarled.
“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had to hurry back,” I said, and put
my jacket on a hanger and put it in the closet in the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” Morten said. “I’m just so frustrated. The chief of police
just called and asked me to be in his office tomorrow morning. With
the cutbacks we’re facing, I’m pretty sure he’s not going to promote
me.”
I grabbed a chair and sat down. “Oh, you’re afraid he’s going to
fire you?”
“I’m not exactly popular on the force right now. Allan won’t even
return my calls. They all think I’m some pervert.”
“I’m sure they don’t think that,” I said and got to my feet. “Let me
make us some coffee. I think I have some butter cookies in the
cabinet.”
I grabbed the pot and poured water into it. Morten looked at me.
“Is that your answer to everything? Food? Coffee?”
“Ouch. That hurt,” I said.
Morten exhaled. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“I’m sorry. I’m not myself. I’m just so…so angry with myself. Why did
I open that stupid link? Why did I click it?”
 I put the pot on the coffeemaker and turned it on. Then I sat down
again. I desperately wanted to indulge myself in a box of cookies to
forget everything, but I restrained myself. Morten was right. Food
was my answer to everything. It was becoming an awful habit.
“Anyone could have made that mistake,” I said. “Don’t be so hard
on yourself.”
“But I should have known it didn’t come from you. How could I
have been that stupid?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sweetie. But looking back won’t change a thing. We
need to figure out who sent that email in the first place. We need to
stop this harassment before it goes any further. I have no idea who is
out to get us, but I am determined to find out and make it stop.”
Morten looked up at me. “How?”
“I went to the library,” I said. “I found something out. Whoever
sent the email, sent it from the library’s computer. It was the same IP
address. That tells me he’s somewhere here on the island. We can
find him.”
Morten looked like he couldn’t believe me. “You went on a
computer at the library?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t worry. I wore a disguise. No one recognized me.
Besides, I was the only one there. I was very careful.”
Morten looked like he might explode. “Are you INSANE?” he
yelled.
“Sh. Keep your voice down. Dr. Sonnichsen is working with Maya
upstairs. I saw her car in the driveway.”
“Have you completely lost it?” Morten asked very loudly. He was
angry now. He was furious.
“You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere near a computer.
If they find out, they’ll lock you up. Are you just trying to ruin
everything?”
I froze. What did he just say?
“What do you mean ‘ruin everything’? You think this is entirely my
fault, don’t you? You think I’m to blame for all this.”
Morten didn’t answer.
“Answer me, goddammit!” I said.
He shrugged. “Well…Yes.”
I couldn’t believe him. “What?”
 “Well, if you hadn’t hacked into the police files so often, it would
have never been discovered, would it? I bet that’s how they found
the link on my computer. Because they were searching for material
on you, to use in their case against you. So, they stumbled onto that
stupid video, and now I’m going down with you.”
I scoffed. “I can’t believe what you’re saying here. You opened
that email. Even though you knew it wasn’t from me. I mean, how
stupid can you be to open a link like that? You brought this upon
yourself. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, now you’re finally telling the truth, huh? What happened to it
could have happened to anyone, don’t be so hard on yourself? Huh?
Was that just another of your acts?”
I looked at him feeling tears piling up. What was happening to
us? “Morten…” I said, and reached out my hand to touch his arm,
but he pulled it away. “Morten, do you want…”
He interrupted me as he got to his feet. “No, I don’t want anymore
STUPID cake or candy or coffee or buns or whatever you want to fill
me up with to make me shut up, to make us forget everything else. It
might work for you, Emma, but it doesn’t work on me. I’m losing my
job here. I might never get to work again. And it’s all your fault!”
Stating the final words in a harsh tone, he stormed out and slammed
the front door as he left.
35
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
O h, happy day! Oh what fun we had today, didn’t we, little Missy?
Yes, we did! We had so much fun!”
The numerologist walked—almost danced—into her apartment
and let the rat out of her purse as she walked into the kitchen and
started unpacking all of her groceries. The milk was placed in the
fridge first to make sure wouldn’t go bad, then the eggs and the
cheese. As she pulled out the apples, she couldn’t stop laughing,
thinking about that woman in the supermarket and watching her
upset face. What a bonus it had been to be able to tick her off like
that. The numerologist knew perfectly well who she was, of course
she did. It was that lady from the posters, the one running for mayor,
who no longer had an opponent because the mayor had been killed.
But it had been a lot of fun pretending she didn’t know. Just seeing
the look on the woman’s face was priceless.
“Yes, she was the crazy one, wasn’t she Missy?” the
numerologist said, as the rat came into the kitchen and crawled onto
the counter. The numerologist unpacked her bags and handed the
rat an apple. She sat in front of the computer while eating one
herself. Juices from the apple ran down her hand. The numerologist
went online to check out the newspapers. To her enjoyment, they
were all over the story of the officer and boyfriend of Emma Frost
who had been suspended because of some porn movie on his
computer. No one asked how the police were tipped off about the
movie. How did they even know to look for it?
 That was between the numerologist and the chief of police in
Esbjerg.
The numerologist took another big bite of her apple and slurped
the juices from it, licking its sides. She stared at the articles on the
screen and printed a couple of them out for her scrapbook. They
were worth keeping. She was so immensely proud of herself and
what she had accomplished.
While she was with Maya this afternoon at Emma Frost’s house,
she had felt the extreme tension. Even Maya had been frustrated
and angry and had talked to the numerologist about it.
“It’s just so typical that I have to be punished for my mom doing
illegal stuff,” she had said. “I can’t believe her. I can’t believe she
would do those things. Why can’t she just be an ordinary boring
mom like everyone else? I always get dragged into her stupid
problems. It’s so embarrassing. Everybody in school is talking about
her. Everybody knows about her. And now they’ll be talking about
her boyfriend too? I can’t take anymore!”
The numerologist had spoken for a long time with Maya about
how almost all teenagers are ashamed of their parents, but that she
also believed she was entitled to be angry with both of them.
“It’s very irresponsible of them to drag all of you into this,” she
said, while smiling widely on the inside. She couldn’t believe how
well her plan was working. It was even better than she had imagined.
While sitting with Maya in her room, she had felt such joy listening to
Emma and Morten arguing loudly downstairs. They were getting on
each other’s nerves. The frustration was thick…almost to boiling.
She even heard Morten slam the door in anger as he left the house.
It was pure music to her ears.
Missy was done with the apple and climbed on the table. The
numerologist observed her with joy. There was nothing like Missy to
make her happy. Pets were the best, weren’t they?
The numerologist chuckled with delight as she thought of her
next move. A shiver went down her spine. Oh, how amazing it was
going to be. She could hardly wait. It was cruel. It was evil.
It was perfect.
36
 NOVEMBER 2014

H e had always been a quiet and easy-going kid. That was what his
grandparents had always said.
“Tommy is such a good kid. Tommy always has a smile on his
face. Tommy always stays out of trouble.”
To most people, Tommy Malthesen was an average sixteen-year-
old kid who was being raised by two loving grandparents. Tommy’s
dad had died in a car accident when he was five, and his mother
hadn’t been able to take care of him properly. So, she had given him
to her parents and he had lived with them the last ten years. It had
been ten good years for all of them. Especially for Tommy, who had
enjoyed having a stable life, even though it meant he only saw his
mother once or twice a year. He missed her and, in the beginning, it
had been difficult for him to understand why she couldn’t keep him,
but like in all other aspects of life, Tommy had never said anything,
nor had he complained. Tommy was a good boy, a straight A student
at the local high school, even if he wasn’t the type that anyone took
any notice of. For him, life was all about staying out of sight. Making
himself invisible.
That was until he saw Maya. The day he had spotted her in the
school’s hallway for the first time was the day his life had begun.
That was when everything changed. For the first time, he no longer
desired to stay invisible to the world. For the first time, he wanted to
be seen. He wanted her to see him.
 But she never had. He had tried to approach her on several
occasions. He tried to talk to her in the cafeteria line or at the library,
but she still had no idea who he was. She remained
unapproachable. And, worst of all, Tommy remained invisible to her.
Now he was sitting at home in his room at his grandparents’ house.
He was staring at the picture of Maya he had printed out from her
Instagram account so that he could put it up on his wall. He touched
it gently while waiting.
“It’s all for you, my beautiful. I’m doing it for your sake.”
There was one time she had noticed him. He had been standing
in the hallway staring at her like he always did when she and her
friends had walked past him. Her friend Annika had laughed and told
the others that Tommy had a crush on Maya…that he was constantly
eyeballing her, then she had called him vanilla with a loud laugh.
Tommy knew what that meant. It meant he was boring and
conventional. Tommy had never thought of himself as boring, but it
had hurt his feelings, and he had later decided to prove them wrong,
to prove to Maya that her friend wasn’t right.
Tommy looked at the computer screen. He had logged in to
Minecraft and entered the house in the server where he used to
meet him. He was the one that had taught Tommy that he didn’t have
to remain invisible for the rest of his life, that he was worth
something, that he was an important person and that he deserved to
be seen. And he had known exactly how to do it. How to make him
the talk of the town.
“Soon you’ll see me, my dear Maya. Soon, you’ll see my face
everywhere,” he mumbled, while waiting for Slender Man to appear.
It didn’t take many seconds before he did. The faceless figure
walked towards him, wearing his suit and tie.
Tommy smiled and wrote:
>Hello<
A few seconds passed. Then the man replied.
>Hello, my friend<
Tommy loved that he called him his friend. Tommy had no other
friends, but had always wanted one. He knew it was just a character
someone had created in the game, but the person behind it was his
friend. He was his best friend, and best friends would go far to help
each other out.
>I’ve got everything you told me to get< Tommy wrote.
>Excellent. Do you have any questions?<
Tommy thought for a few seconds. He had a million questions,
but wasn’t sure he wanted to ask them. He just wanted to make
Slender Man happy; he wanted so badly to make him proud and
become one of his proxies. Almost as much as he wanted to be seen
by Maya. He wanted her to know his name. Know that he had done
something extraordinary. And that he had done it for her sake.
Because he would do anything for her. He was going to make sure
she knew. He wasn’t just vanilla. There was so much more to him
and they would soon learn.
>No. I’m ready. Let’s do it. YOLO, right? You Only Live Once<
37
 NOVEMBER 2014

Iwas
was upset. No, it was more than that. I was furious. I was sad. I
frustrated. All at once. I felt like whoever was doing this to us
was winning. That was the plan, wasn’t it? To drive us nuts? To make
us turn on each other and fight. And he was succeeding. I got a
strange feeling that this was all brilliantly planned, that we were
merely puppets in a show, not having any influence over what
happened to us.
Why were we so stupid to fall for it? Why were we so helpless?
Why were we letting this happen?
I took the dogs for their evening walk and decided to make the
walk a little longer than usual. We walked through the yard and onto
the beach at the end of my property. I walked for half an hour before
turning around and walking back. Kenneth constantly barked at
everything. He pulled on the leash, while Brutus walked steadily and
quietly next to me. I was beginning to like the dog. It was nice that he
was so quiet. He wasn’t at all like the shelter had said. He hardly
ever growled at me anymore. Only if I touched him, which I never
did…well, only to put on the leash, but I could do that with hardly
touching his fur. I got a feeling he liked it at our house, and especially
liked being with Victor. Those two understood each other in a way I
would never comprehend.
“You’re not so bad, are you Brutus?” I asked into the darkness,
while Kenneth pulled the leash so hard he started wheezing.
 Brutus didn’t even react. He kept walking next to me, completely
soundless. I had no idea how such a big dog could be this quiet. He
kept sneaking up on me, appearing in my room at times when I least
expected it, and without the door even being open, it seemed. It
freaked me out constantly. But he never hurt a fly. Not even Kenneth,
even though everyone else in the house—except for Maya, naturally
—wanted to hurt him, or at least make him shut up for just one
second.
I felt strange as I walked with the two dogs along the beach. It
was pitch dark and I couldn’t see a thing; still, I felt like someone was
watching me. I had felt that a lot lately, but now the feeling was very
strong. My heart rate went up and I started to walk faster.
You’re being paranoid, Emma. It’s nothing. Besides you have the
dogs with you. No one will ever dare to hurt you when you have
Brutus by your side.
Kenneth stopped to pee, and I looked around in the darkness to
see if I could spot anything or anyone. I had a flashlight that I used.
Kenneth did a number two and I bent over to pick it up with the bag. I
heard a sound behind me and turned to look. I shone the flashlight,
but there was nothing there.
“Who’s there?” I asked. My voice was shivering slightly.
Nothing but darkness surrounded me.
“Hello?” I asked.
It’s all in your head. This entire affair is making you sick. You
need to relax, or you’ll lose it.
I had taken in a couple of deep breaths of sea air, then started
walking again, when I was certain I heard steps right behind me. I
turned fast this time and shone the flashlight, but still…no one. It was
all very strange. I walked a few steps more, then turned to look
again. Still nothing but sand and ocean. On the land side, several of
the houses had trees leading all the way to the beach like my
property had. I wondered why they hadn’t cut them down to get
better views from their houses. I was keeping mine for Victor’s sake,
but if I didn’t have him, I would have removed them immediately.
Maybe people just liked their privacy. It was silly, I thought. But
everyone was different. Right now, the big pine trees were making
the scene extra creepy, and I walked even faster once I returned to
my track. When I turned to look behind me one more time, the
flashlight accidentally hit the sand where I had been walking. Then, I
stopped. In the wet sand behind me, there was an extra set of
footprints next to mine, like I had been walking with someone. They
stopped right where I was. My heart was racing in my chest as I
frantically shone the flashlight around me.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I know you’re there. Show yourself to
me, you coward! Do you want to fight, huh? Is that what you want?
Let’s just settle this here and now! Stop watching me, stop harassing
my family and me. Leave me alone!!”
As I yelled the last words, I panted in agitation and waited for the
answer. But it never came. There wasn’t even a sound. Kenneth
barked again and started pulling the leash. Still panting in furor, I
walked home.
38
 NOVEMBER 2014

P eter Larsen was worried. While packing his bag, he found a

picture of him and his brother from back when they were just
teenagers. He touched it gently and felt a sadness come over him.
So many years had passed. So many years wasted.
He hadn’t had time to grieve the loss of his brother much, and
there was no time now. Peter knew he had to get off this island as
soon as possible. He had originally planned to leave tomorrow, but
after his talk with Jonna, he knew he had to leave now. Take the last
boat right after midnight. He had seen the concern in her eyes and
felt it deep within his heart. The fact that both Ulrik and Erling were
killed within a few days of each other was no coincidence. It couldn’t
be.
It was the past finally catching up to them.
Peter put the picture inside the backpack, then closed it tightly.
He wasn’t taking much. Just some clothes and a few personal
possessions. If he needed anything else, he could buy it.
His plan was to take his bike through Germany and France, make
a few stops on the way, and then end up in Bibione in Italy. It was his
favorite place in the world, and he had spent many summers there
with his biker-friends, bringing nothing but their bikes and a tent. It
was the simple life. He needed that.
Peter hadn’t had a particularly happy or quiet life. Things had
been complicated. He had been complicated. At least that was what
many women had told him over the years when he refused to let
them in. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He had met several women
over the years that he would have liked to tell everything to, that he
would have loved to share his life and secrets with, but he couldn’t.
He simply couldn’t. He had no idea how to be close to another
human being. He had no idea how to be in a relationship. He didn’t
want to spend the night at their places; he didn’t want to leave a
toothbrush. Some stayed with him for up till three years before they
finally grew tired of his lack of commitment. He couldn’t blame them
for leaving.
Peter grabbed his leather jacket from the closet and put it on. The
emblem on his back said Hells Angels Denmark. Yes, he knew they
were troublemakers, but they were also his friends and had been for
many years. They were the family he didn’t have any longer. They
took care of each other, even in jail where Peter had spent a few
years. He knew he could count on his buddies anywhere at any time.
They just couldn’t help him with this.
Peter knew he was old, and thought that he might be too old for
riding a bike across Europe. But he didn’t feel old. At the age of
sixty-six, he felt strong, and his doctor had told him he was going to
live for a long time. He had excellent vision and no diseases. He had
made a lot of money over the years, along with his buddies, doing
their business that he never told anyone about, laundering the
money through Peter’s carpentry company. Yes, Peter knew he had
done many things he wasn’t very proud of, but he had never hurt
anyone by doing it, he kept telling himself.
Peter ran a hand across his silver hair and made a ponytail. He
had showered one last time before he started packing. He took one
last glance at the hallway mirror in his apartment, then lifted up the
backpack and swung it over his shoulder.
His doctor had told him he had many good years left to live; he
wasn’t going to waste them here. He wasn’t going to let it all end on
this forsaken island that had been his destiny and brought him so
much sorrow.
Peter grabbed the door handle and swung the door open. Then
he froze. On the other side, in the hallway, stood a tall, faceless
figure dressed in a black suit and tie.
 Peter gasped and stepped backwards, remembering the stories
from his childhood they used to tell each other while playing in the
woods at night. Stories about a tall man who lured little children to
come to him before he killed them.
The tall, slender man stepped forward and, with a smooth
movement, slit Peter’s throat. In his dying moments, while bleeding
to death on the tiles in his own apartment, Peter Larsen thought of
his brothers. For the first time in many years, he dared to think of
both of them.
39
 JULY 1965

U lrik Larsen hated working on his father’s farm, but as time passed
he was coming to terms with the fact that it was his destiny…it was
his fate…his inheritance. Ulrik knew it was expected of him to take
over from his father and, if anything, Ulrik was very good at living up
to people’s expectations. He figured out how to live with it. The work
took up most of his waking hours, but every now and then he would
take his bike and drive it the many kilometers to Nordby and visit the
library. It could only happen on his monthly day off, but for Ulrik, it
was worth the wait. He lived for those days. He lived and breathed
for the last Saturday of every month.
He had even met a girl. At the library in downtown Nordby, he
had met Jonna. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid
eyes upon. And best of all, she liked to read as well. She helped out
at the library and would always find five or six books for him that she
thought he should read. They would spend the entire Saturday
together, reading and laughing, and sometimes even going out for an
ice cream on the harbor. Ulrik loved these Saturdays, when he was
able to forget all about pigs and manure and the corn in the field.
He dreamt of marrying Jonna one day and having her come and
live on the farm with him. Being a city-girl, he knew it would require
some adjustment for her, and he knew he would need to break it to
her gently. She knew he lived and worked on a farm, and one
Saturday he finally managed to invite her to come visit the farm and
see where he lived and worked. He was terrified that she wasn’t
going to like it there, so before she arrived, he ran around cleaning
up, even telling his mother and younger brother Per to dress nicely
and be polite when speaking to her.
His mother giggled and put on a nice dress for his sake, while his
youngest brother, Per, jumped the mud piles along with his friend
Erling, who lived next door and always came over to play on the
weekends.
Ulrik wasn’t too pleased with them being around and asked his
mother to keep them away from Jonna when she came. His mother
didn’t look too pleased when he mentioned it.
“It’s Per’s home too,” she said. “He’s having a friend over just like
you, and they’re entitled to be here just as much as you.”
Ulrik growled and straightened his water-combed hair for the
hundredth time, to make sure it stayed in place. He loved his mother,
but she spoiled that kid way too much. Per could get away with
anything, while Ulrik and Peter always had to earn their parent’s
praise by hard work. Ulrik envied both of his younger brothers so
badly it hurt…to think they could both live the life they wanted. Ulrik
would give anything to just be able to take off and go live in the city
with Jonna and discuss books every day.
His mother held his head between her hands. She looked him in
the eyes like she used to when he was younger.
“It’ll be fine, Ulrik. Just wait and see. She’ll love it here. If she
loves you, she will. That’s how I felt with your father.”
Ulrik smiled wearily. He wasn’t so sure she was right, but she still
had a way of comforting him like no one else. Per and his friend
Erling were screaming with joy outside the main house when Ulrik
spotted Jonna on her bike riding across the gravel. Ulrik’s heart
stopped. Jonna’s blond hair was lifted by the wind, her skirt fluttering
beneath her. Ulrik smiled and watched her till she drove into the
courtyard. Then he rushed out. He stood at the top of the stairs and
waved as she parked her bike. Per and Erling whined with joy as one
of the dogs joined their party in the mud pile. The sky was blue with
a few clouds above them. It had been raining all morning, but finally
seemed to be clearing up. It was perfect for the tour. The farm
always looked best in sunshine.
“Hi, Ulrik,” she yelled and waved back.
 Her smile made his heart drop. Everything about her was just
so…so perfect.
“Hi, Jonna,” he said shyly, while Per and Erling made mocking
sounds from their mud pile. Ulrik decided to ignore them. Jonna
looked at him as he approached her, his head slightly bowed, his
hand constantly making sure his hair stayed in place.
“So, this is where you live,” she said with an enchanted light
laughter. “It’s beautiful, Ulrik. I love it. Look at those boys. Look at all
the fun they have. And you have animals too?”
Ulrik dared to stand taller. He nodded. “Yes. Dogs, cats, and
horses.” He deliberately left out the pigs, since he thought they
would be of no interest to a beautiful young girl like her. But he had
misjudged her.
“Do you have any pigs?” she asked. “I simply adore pigs.”
Ulrik smiled with a shy nod, and when Jonna grabbed his hand,
he knew this was the best day of his life.
40
 NOVEMBER 2014

Ithrough
t was hard for me to sleep that night. A thousand thoughts flickered
my mind. Mostly about this Facebook page. I couldn’t stop
wondering who would want to hurt me and Morten so badly. Who
would go to this kind of extreme to hurt us?
I couldn’t think of anyone. I tried to let it go and think about
something else. Instead, I wondered about the killing of Ulrik Larsen
and the mayor. I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling they had to be
connected somehow and the faceless man, Slender Man, was the
key. I had nothing to base my assumptions on, nothing but a gut
feeling.
I grabbed my phone and looked at the clock. It was three o’clock.
I had to get some sleep. I put my arm around a pillow and imagined
it was Morten. I missed him like crazy and felt angry that we’d fought
earlier. It was stupid. He was right to be frustrated, but to blame it all
on me? That was taking it a little too far, I believed. On the other
hand, maybe I should just let it go. He was desperate and needed
someone to blame, and until we figured out who was behind this, I
guess I was the best choice. Maybe I should just cut him some slack.
I closed my eyes and pictured Morten and me lying on a beach
somewhere in Italy, holding hands. No kids, no dogs, just the two of
us enjoying some time to ourselves. I liked the idea, and just before I
finally dozed off, I decided to arrange a trip for the two of us. Maybe
it should be Spain this time? Yes, I had a friend who lived in Malaga.
We could go there and visit her. She had tried to get me to visit for
ages. That was a wonderful idea. Maybe we could go just before
Christmas? My parents could take care of Victor and Maya while we
were away. We both needed some time off. I was going to talk to
Morten about it in the morning. As long as I had no computer, I
couldn’t order the tickets myself anyway.
Boy, life was hard without the Internet. I didn’t understand how
people used to get by before we had it.
I fell asleep dreaming about sunshine and drinks in the sand, but
woke up with a start. There was someone in my room. I gasped and
turned my head. I stared into the face of Brutus. Then I screamed.
“Viiiictooor!!!”
Victor came in, looking at me indifferently. “What?” he asked.
“Your dog is staring at me in my sleep again. It freaks me out! Get
him out of here!”
Victor shrugged, then grabbed Brutus’ collar, but the dog didn’t
move. He kept staring at me with those white shining eyes that
reflected the moonlight outside my window.
“Get him out of here, Victor. I can’t sleep with him staring at me
like that. It’s creepy.”
Victor pulled the collar again, but the dog still wouldn’t move. It
surprised me, since he usually obeyed Victor so well. But something
was different. It was in his eyes. It was like he wanted to tell me
something.
“Just get him out, Victor,” I said again.
“He doesn’t want to come,” Victor said. “I guess he wants to
sleep in here with you.” Victor was about to leave, when I called him
back.
“Don’t leave that dog in here with me. You get him out of here,
now, Victor. I’m not going to say it again. He drives me crazy with
that staring.”
Victor pulled the collar again. This time Brutus did react. He
growled. He turned his head and growled at Victor. Victor pulled
away, startled.
“That’s it!” I said. “He’s going back tomorrow! I’ve had it with that
dog. I’m taking him back to the shelter tomorrow. Do you hear me,
Brutus?”
 He didn’t look like he did. Instead, he opened his mouth and let
out a loud and very deep bark. I gasped. The sound was very
intimidating. Victor looked at me.
“I think he’s trying to tell us something. We’d better listen.”
41
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
W hat do you mean we better listen?” I asked. I looked at the
clock on my phone again. It was getting really late. Actually, it was
early in the morning now. I just really wanted to get some sleep.
The dog barked loudly again. There was something very
profound about his bark. It sounded urgent, like he was insisting. It
was strange, but I got the feeling that Victor was right. Brutus had
something he wanted to tell us.
I looked at my son. “Then, you talk to him. Ask him what he
wants.”
Victor kneeled in front of Brutus. He bent his head and leaned in
towards the dog till his forehead touched its snout. They sat like that
for a little while before Victor finally rose to his feet. The dog then
turned and walked out of the room.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“He wants us to follow him.”
“Do I have to?” I asked. The floor was so cold, and I really
wanted to stay under the covers and catch up on my sleep before I
had to get up.
“Come,” Victor said.
I growled, found my slippers and a bathrobe, and followed Victor
out of my room. As soon as I was in the hallway, the dog walked to
the top of the stairs where it stopped.
“What is it? Is there someone down there?” I asked. The dog
looked insistently at me.
 My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest. What had the dog
sensed? Had someone broken into our home? “Is there someone
down there?” I asked again, like I was waiting for the dog to reply.
Carefully, I walked down the stairs, my heart racing in my chest.
All day long, I had felt like I was being watched. Especially on my
evening walk with the dogs, I had sensed there had been someone
there with me in the darkness. Had this person followed me home?
Had this person intruded into my house?
The dog and Victor stayed a few steps behind me. Brutus looked
at the kitchen door in front of us.
“Is it in there? You want me to look in the kitchen?”
The dog kept staring. I grabbed the broom that stood next to the
door to be able to defend myself if necessary, and then swung the
door open. On the other side, I was met by a sight so horrifying I
immediately threw up on the floor. I couldn’t believe it. It was like a
scene from some horror movie.
Oh, my God. Oh, dear God, no! Don’t let this be true!
On the stove, in one of my grandmother’s old pots, was Kenneth.
The stove was on, and the water was boiling with poor Kenneth
sitting lifelessly in it, his throat slit. My stomach turned again, as I
tried to grasp the reality of the situation. I swayed briefly before I
managed to pull myself together.
Who the hell could do such a cruel thing?
Thinking of my children, I wiped my mouth and shut the door, so
Victor wouldn’t see anything.
“Go upstairs and bring me my phone, will you?” I said, my voice
shivering in desperation.
Luckily, Victor didn’t notice anything. He simply shrugged with an
“Okay” and stormed up the stairs.
I looked at Brutus.
“Thanks for the warning.”
I walked back into the kitchen and turned off the stove. Holding
back the urgent desire to throw up again, I took the pot to the sink
and poured the contents out. I cried as I watched poor Kenneth fall
into the sink with a thud. Sobbing, I picked up his lifeless body and
put him in a small plastic bag. I found an empty shoebox in the closet
and put Kenneth’s tiny body inside of it and closed the lid. Seconds
later, Maya came into the kitchen. She almost stepped in my vomit
on the floor.
“What’s going on here?”
Victor showed up behind her with my phone.
I looked at them both. I grabbed the phone while Maya waited for
an answer.
“Sweetie,” I said. “Sit down.”
“What’s going on?” Maya asked, with a slightly harsher voice.
“You’re scaring me, Mom.”
“Sweetie. There has been…an accident. Kenneth…well, Kenneth
is no longer with us.”
“What do you mean he’s no longer with us?” Maya looked
startled.
I felt like crying myself, but held it back for Maya’s sake. I put my
hand on top of hers. “He’s dead, sweetie. I just found him…he…he
died.”
Maya stared at me like she thought I was lying. I wasn’t. Just
withholding parts of the truth.
“We’ll get you another dog, Maya, I promi…” But Maya didn’t
want to listen to me anymore. She rose to her feet with a moan. I
could tell she was about to crack. I knew that face. So proud. Too
proud to cry in front of her mother.
“Maya. Please…” I said. “We’ll go to the shelter tomorrow. We’ll
find one that is just as cute.”
Tears were welling up in her eyes. She tried to speak, but
couldn’t. She shook her head and bit her lip. “I loved that dog, Mom.”
“I know you did. But these things happen. Dogs die. When you
get a dog, you also get the sorrow that can come with it…”
Maya lifted her hands to signal she didn’t want to hear anymore.
“Why my dog? Why couldn’t it have been Victor’s ugly dog over
there? Why mine?”
I had no answer. I had no words of comfort. I was still in shock
myself.
42
 NOVEMBER 2014

W e stayed up all night eating my box of assorted chocolates that I

had saved for a special occasion, and talking about Kenneth. When
the sun came up, we walked into the yard and I dug a hole beneath
one of the big pine trees. Maya put the shoebox in the hole and said
a few nice words before we covered it all up.
I told her she could stay home from school if she wanted to, but
she didn’t. “I’ll just miss him too much. The house is all empty
without him, Mom.”
I hadn’t realized how much she had come to love him in just the
short time we had the dog.
“Kenneth was special, Mom,” she explained. “He was the only
one around who didn’t know me before I lost my memory. He
understood me, Mom. We had something. He never demanded
anything from me. He never looked at me angrily just because there
was something I didn’t remember. With him, I could be myself.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” I said, and grabbed her hand in mine. “Go
get ready for school. I promise I’ll take you to the shelter this
afternoon.”
Maya sobbed, then did as I told her.
“You mean to tell me someone went all Fatal Attraction on you
and boiled your dog?” Sophia asked with wide eyes when she came
over for coffee later. I had finally allowed myself to cry, since the kids
had both left for school.
 “Why Kenneth?” I asked sobbing. “Yes, he was annoying. Yes, he
barked and ate my furniture, not to mention all of my shoes. Yes, I
had sometimes thought about killing him myself, but come on? He
was just a small dog. He never harmed anyone.”
Sophia chuckled, but stopped herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s
horrible. It really is, but…I’ll shut up now.”
I found a Kleenex and wiped my eyes. “I can’t believe anyone
would do such a horrible thing,” I said. “Who on earth could hate me
this much?”
“You think it’s the same person as the one who made the
Facebook page?” Sophia asked.
“I’m positive. This person is out to ruin my life. First, the
Facebook page, which now has almost two thousand followers, by
the way; I checked this morning on my iPad. Then, Morten’s
suspension…and, finally, this? Someone is out to really hurt my
family. Who’s next? Victor?”
Sophia looked at Brutus, who had somehow come into the
kitchen without my knowledge, and apparently without opening any
doors, as usual, since the door was still closed. How he did it
remained a mystery to me. But everything about him was a mystery.
“You think anyone would want to hurt him?” Sophia asked, and
nodded towards Brutus.
I shrugged. “He’s not that easy to get close to, so I guess not.” I
exhaled heavily. “I’m just so freaking tired of sitting here waiting for
the next disaster to hit.”
“Then, don’t,” Sophia said and finished her coffee.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at you. You’re a mess. It’s so unlike you to just sit here and
do nothing. Do something. Figure out who’s behind this. There has
to be some way.”
“You’re right. I have to find this person and make him pay. I’m so
angry right now. I really want him to pay.”
Sophia put her cup in the sink and grabbed her jacket from
behind the chair. “Well, there you go. There isn’t much else you can
do now anyway, since you can’t work on your book. Get busy getting
back at this bastard.” She looked at her watch. “I gotta go. I have a
class in forty-five minutes.”
 “See you later. Do you and the kids want to come over for dinner
tonight? My parents are coming too. Bring Jack as well. I really need
to be surrounded by the people I love right now.”
Sophia smiled. “Sure. That would be great.”
She walked past Brutus, who stared at her with his white eyes as
she passed him. Sophia shook her head. “Now, why didn’t you bark
when your little friend was cooked, huh?”
I looked up. “Oh, my gosh. You’re right.”
“Right about what?”
“Why didn’t the damn dog bark when someone invaded our
house and killed Kenneth? Why didn’t it protect the house? I’ll tell
you why. Because it’s someone we know. The dogs both knew this
person.”
43
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he revelation was both terrifying and intriguing. It was quite

shocking because I had let this person inside of my home somehow.
It was horrifying because I had let this person get close to my family
and me, but at least I was now getting somewhere. At least it gave
me something to work with. Now I knew that, not only was this
person located here on the island, he also frequently visited my
house, especially in the last week since we’d gotten the dogs. There
weren’t that many people who came into this house on a regular
basis.
I started making a list.
I didn’t get many names down before my phone rang. It was
Morten. We hadn’t spoken since our fight yesterday, and I was still a
little angry with him.
“Hey. It’s me,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was
way off. Can you forgive me?”
I sniffled for my answer. I felt tears well up in my eyes. I tried to
speak, but my voice cracked.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you crying? It wasn’t that bad of
a fight, was it? Emma?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just…there’s a lot going on right now.” I
debated within myself whether I should tell him or not.
“What happened, Emma? I can tell something is wrong. Did
something happen to one of the children?”
 “No, no. They’re both fine. But something did happen. Something
awful.”
“What, Emma? You’re killing me here. Are you all alright?”
I decided to tell him. Even though I knew talking about it would
only make me cry harder.
“It’s Kenneth. He’s dead.” I cried as I spoke. “Someone broke into
our house and killed him. They…they put him in a pot and…”
“Emma, this is serious,” Morten said. “This is harassment.
Breaking and entering. You need to talk to the police.”
“I really don’t want to,” I said. “I’m not exactly popular with the
police right now. I talked to my lawyer earlier this morning, and
they’re pressing charges against me for hacking. It could be serious,
she says.”
“I understand,” Morten said. “But this can’t go on. Someone is
seriously harassing you, and it needs to stop.”
I sniffled and picked up a Kleenex from the table. I wiped my
tears away. “I’m just being silly,” I said. “I mean, I wasn’t even that
fond of the dog. But Maya was, and I feel so bad for her.”
“Plus, it’s a lot to cope with…the fact that someone has been into
your house. I really don’t like this, Emma. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone. Brutus is here.”
“That’s good, but still. I worry about you. I’m on my way to
Esbjerg now to talk to the chief of police, but I’ll be back later and I’ll
come stay at your house.”
“I invited my parents and Sophia and Jack over for dinner
tonight,” I said. I felt so thrilled Morten would be there as well. I was
going to be with all the people I loved. It was just what the doctor
ordered.
“Okay. Well, I’m at the police station in Esbjerg now. I’ll call you
later. Will you be okay?” Morten asked.
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be fine. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
We hung up and I wiped my nose on the Kleenex while looking at
my list. So far, none of these people came off as anyone wanting to
harm me, but I had thought that before, and it turned out that my own
mailman was the one pulling the strings. I had to be careful with
each and every person I let into my home, and wondered about the
construction workers who had been here to finish the house. They
had been in and out over the past several days, finishing some
woodwork and painting the façade. It could easily be one of them.
I walked to the window and spotted them in the yard. The
painters were on the ladder, chatting with the carpenters on the
ground. They all seemed very happy. A radio played music.
I stared at them, as if I expected any one them to have blood on
their hands or have the words dog-killer written on their faces, but
was interrupted once again by my phone. This time it was an
unknown number. I took it.
“Emma Frost.”
“It’s Michael.”
I froze. “Michael?”
“I’m just calling to give you a heads up. I want to let you know
that I’m taking Victor now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Well, you’re about to go to jail, and your boyfriend is a sex
offender. Unfortunately, Maya isn’t mine, so I can’t take her, but I’m
taking Victor. I’m not letting him grow up with a criminal and a sex
offender, that’s for sure. My lawyer says it’ll be easy as one, two,
three.”
44
 NOVEMBER 2014

L isa Rasmussen gurgled water to clear her throat. Then, she

hummed a few notes and sang a scale to warm up her vocal chords.
On the other side of the curtain waited the public in the main square
of Nordby.
“This is it,” her campaign manager Merethe said.
She annoyed Lisa slightly. Her jacket wasn’t straight, and she
had bad breath. The least she could do was to brush her teeth,
considering all the money Lisa paid her.
“This is your big speech. This is when you get them to like you.
Are you ready?” Merethe asked.
Her breath smelled like cheese. Lisa wrinkled her nose. On the
table behind her stood the remains of her kale and cucumber
smoothie. She wasn’t going to finish it. Not right before speaking, in
case any of the green stuff got stuck in her teeth. Lisa drank some
more water and flushed her mouth.
“You’ve got this,” Merethe said.
Was one of her teeth turning yellow?
“You can do it!”
Lisa had a tick in one of her eyes that wouldn’t stop. Probably just
nervousness. It had been a bad morning. She had woken up to the
news that someone had decided to run against her in the election.
An old woman named Jonna Frederiksen had decided she, all of a
sudden, wanted to be mayor. She was so old that Lisa didn’t
understand why she was bothering, but to the local newspaper she
had stated that it was on her bucket list; it was something she
wanted to do before she died. Plus, she also believed she had many
more years to live, and she could do wonderful things for the island.
Especially since she had grown up there and knew every corner and
every person. The last part annoyed Lisa immensely. That was the
part she didn’t have. This Jonna person was one of the locals. Lisa
would never be, and she knew that people preferred their mayor to
be one. It was one of their highest priorities, studies showed.
This speech was supposed to be her last speech, her solo
appearance, since she was the only candidate, but now it was going
to be a duel instead.
“I can do it,” Lisa replied and repeated it while jumping up and
down to warm up her muscles. “I can do this. I can do this.”
The old lady suddenly turned up next to her backstage. Lisa
recognized her from her picture in the paper. Jonna Frederiksen
smiled. Lisa ignored her and kept repeating her mantra while
jumping up and down.
“Good luck,” Jonna said.
Lisa squinted her eyes, then looked at Merethe. “What does she
mean by that?” she asked.
Merethe shrugged. “Focus on yourself and your own speech.
You’re going to win this, Lisa. You are the next mayor of Fanoe
Island.”
The words were comforting, even though Merethe’s breath stunk
like dead fish and seaweed. Lisa shook her head.
Focus. Focus. You’re going to win this.
Lisa heard the announcer talking. He spoke of how important it
was to remember to vote and repeated the date a few times before
he finally said the words:
“Give it up for our two candidates. Jonna Frederiksen and Lisa
Rasmussen!”
Lisa froze. Why had he said her name last? She looked at
Merethe. Her ponytail wasn’t straight. Lisa wanted to correct it.
“Go!” Merethe said.
Applause broke out, and Lisa realized she had missed the big
entrance for which she had prepared so much. The old lady had
already walked on stage, and now they were applauding her.
 Crap!
Lisa rushed after her and onto the stage, putting on her famous
election smile and waving at the maybe twenty people standing in
front of the stage. They clapped unenthusiastically. Lisa kept smiling
and waving while her opponent took her stand. Lisa found her place
and adjusted the microphone. She cleared her throat and took in a
deep breath.
“Let’s give the first word to Jonna Frederiksen, who just
announced her candidacy last night.”
The audience applauded. Lisa growled as Jonna pulled the
microphone closer and it made a howling noise. Lisa chuckled as
she watched the audience cover their ears and make grimaces.
Amateur. Let her try if she likes. Let her have her dying wish. But
mayor she will never become. That seat is mine. You hear me, old
lady? It’s mine!
45
 NOVEMBER 2014

A Is put
if things weren’t bad enough.
the phone down with a bad feeling in my stomach. I could
hardly believe everything that was happening to me at once. It was
simply surreal. It was like a really bad dream that I just couldn’t slip
out of.
I’m coming to get Victor.
The words kept lingering in my mind and I repeated them over
and over again in my head. Michael had threatened this before, but
for the first time, I was really afraid that he was going to succeed.
Once he heard about the breaking and entering, and the dead
dog in my kitchen, on top of everything else, there was no way I
would ever see my son again. I felt heartbroken and began looking
for some candy I had hidden in the back of my cabinet when the
phone rang again. My heart jumped, and at first I didn’t want to pick
it up in case it was him again, or just more bad news. I couldn’t take
anymore right now.
Still, I checked the display and saw Maya’s name. I picked it up
with a strongly beating heart. She wasn’t allowed to turn her phone
on during school. Something had to be wrong.
“What’s up, honey? Aren’t you in school?”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m in the restroom. I had to call you.”
“What’s going on?”
“I was in the computer lab this morning, checking my emails,
since I can’t do it at home anymore.”
 “Yeah, and so?” I looked out the window and kept an eye on the
workers. They were on their coffee break, sitting under the big tree
talking and drinking coffee out of their thermoses. It didn’t really look
like they were conspiring against me. But, then again, it only had to
be one of them.
“I received this strange email. I got really scared, Mom.”
I returned my focus to the conversation. “What kind of email?”
“This guy I know from school sent me an email telling me he just
killed some guy, and that he did it because he loved me. Mom, it’s
really creepy.”
“Are you sure it’s not just some joke?” I asked.
“I…I don’t know. But it’s a very cruel joke, then. He talks about
how this Slender Man has taught him everything and…and that he is
one of his proxies, but he’s doing it all for me, he says. I don’t
understand it, Mom. What is this?”
“I don’t know, Maya. Does it say anything about who it is he
claims to have killed?” I asked.
“Yes. It says I can go to this address and find the body, in case I
don’t believe him. It’s like he thinks I think it’s cool or something. But
I don’t, Mom. I really don’t. I think it’s so creepy.”
“Of course you do, sweetie. Listen. Send me the address and I’ll
go check it out. It’s probably nothing. Probably just some guy trying
to be smart and get your attention. Send me the email. I’ll read it on
my phone and take a look at it. Don’t worry about it anymore.”
Maya sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. Now get back to class before you get yourself in
trouble.”
I hung up and waited for the email to come through. It did almost
immediately. I read the text and felt a shiver run down my spine.
Maya had been right. This was truly creepy. This boy clearly wasn’t
well. The question was whether he had really done what he claimed
to. I had to find out. I was going grocery shopping anyway for
tonight’s dinner, so I might as well swing by this address and make
sure everything was all right.
I filled Brutus’ bowl with fresh water and food for a couple of
hours, then rushed out to my car and drove off, forgetting the grocery
list on the counter.
46
 JULY 1965

T hey spent an enchanted day together at Ulrik’s parents’ farm.

Jonna loved everything about the place and, little by little, Ulrik’s
many concerns for his future evaporated. Looking into her beautiful
blue sparkling eyes and seeing all the excitement in them made him
believe in his future for the first time in his life. Maybe it wasn’t so
bad, after all, that he had to take care of pigs for the rest of his life.
Not if she would be by his side. Jonna put it all in a new perspective
for him.
“Look at how happy the kids are here. All kids should grow up on
a farm, if you ask me,” she said, and pointed at Per and Erling, who
were playing with the dogs, their clothes smeared in dried up mud.
“Look!” she said again, and then let out a light laugh.
But Ulrik had only eyes for her. They had sat down at the table
outside on the patio, where his mother was about to serve afternoon
tea and buns. All day, she had been laughing like this and seeing
things in a way Ulrik had never been able to. She had turned it all
around and, suddenly, Ulrik was seeing it too. The pigs were
adorable, cute even; the kids weren’t noisy and annoying, they were
happy and joyful; the mud was fun, the dogs for playing with, and the
big trees surrounding the property were stunning. Oh, how Jonna
had loved the trees. Perfect for lying beneath and reading a good
book.
“And all this is going to be yours one day?” she had said, almost
singing when he showed her the cornfields in the back.
 For once, Ulrik had proudly answered, “Yes.”
Ulrik’s mother served them tea, and they sat in silence and drank
and ate while the kids continued their playing. Ulrik saw how his
mother looked at Jonna, and knew that she liked her. She had even
brought out the nice China. The dishes she had inherited from Ulrik’s
great-grandmother.
“It’s such a wonderful place you have here, Mrs. Larsen,” she
said. “You must all be very happy.”
Ulrik’s mother smiled and poured Jonna another cup of tea.
Jonna put sugar in it and stirred.
“We are very happy here,” Ulrik’s mother said, just as Ulrik’s dad
joined them.
He grunted angrily as he sat down and his wife poured him tea.
He slurped and ate the bun that his wife had buttered for him. His
hands were dirty, and he smelled like pig. Ulrik looked at Jonna,
fearing that she would be scared off. But she didn’t seem to be. She
smiled at Ulrik’s dad.
“I was just telling your wife what a beautiful farm you have, Mr.
Larsen,” she said joyfully. “It must be such a joy to be able to work
outside like this every day.”
Ulrik’s dad stopped chewing, then nodded. “Sure is,” he said.
“Tell that to this kid here. He seems to think the only thing in the
world worth doing is burying his nose in a book.” Ulrik’s dad finished
his sentence with a grunt, then continued to chew his bun. “Let me
have another one,” he said to his wife.
She buttered one for him. “Could I get you to take down Peter’s
dinner to old Hansen’s after you’re done eating?” his mother then
asked. “He’s staying till it gets dark tonight.”
Ulrik sighed. “But that’s gonna take the rest of the afternoon.
Jonna and I were planning on going to the library downtown before I
escort her home.”
Ulrik’s dad grunted again. “You do as your mother tells you, son.
Take the two bandits with you as well. Your mother can’t keep an eye
on them and cook dinner at the same time.”
“But…”
“Do as your mother tells you,” his dad repeated, and gave him a
look telling him there would be no arguing. Ulrik knew to stop. It was
no use arguing with his father, even if he tried. Ulrik looked at Jonna,
who put her hand on top of his. “We’d be glad to be of help,” she
said. “It’s no problem.”
47
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he address led me to an apartment in downtown Nordby. It was

located on the main street, looking out at the square. A very nice
location, I thought. The street was closed to cars, so I parked further
down the road and walked the rest of the way. I had to cross the
square to get to the apartment. Something was going on in the
center of it. A stage had been set up, and people had gathered to
listen. It was the candidate’s last debate. I had read about it in the
newspaper that had been my main source of information ever since I
had lost my computer. Well, that and Sophia.
Apparently, there was a last minute candidate for the election,
challenging Lisa Rasmussen. To be frank, I really wanted to hear
what she had to say; I really wanted her to be better than Lisa, whom
I thought was very odd. But that wasn’t why I was there. I could read
all about it in the morning paper, so I hurried past and found the right
building. I looked at my phone and checked that I had the right
address. I did. I buzzed a couple of buttons, and told some old lady
that I was the paperboy. Strangely enough, she bought it.
I walked up the stairs till I reached the third floor. There were two
apartments there, but according to the email, it was the one to the
right. I looked at the door, and the name on the outside.
PETER LARSEN
The name made me wonder. It was, after all, less than a few
days ago that another Larsen had been brutally murdered in his
home. It was, of course, a fairly common name in this country, but
still? Helle Larsen’s second son had been a Peter.
My heart beat fast as I rang the doorbell. There was no answer. I
knocked, still nothing. I opened the letterbox in the door.
“Hello? Peter Larsen? Are you home?”
There was no answer, but something else was there. Flies. A ton
of them. They swarmed around my face. I spat and pulled my head
back. Then I grabbed the handle and pulled it. The door was open.
This wasn’t a good sign. People didn’t leave their homes unlocked.
At least not anymore. I had been told that there used to be a time
when people on this island would never lock a door.
I saw him as soon as I opened the door. Well I saw someone
sitting in a chair with his back turned at me. A long track of blood
across the carpet in the hallway told me something bad had
happened here. There was also a smell.
“Hello?”
I walked closer to the figure in the chair in the living room with the
long silver ponytail. I felt anxious. Should I call Morten and ask him
to come before I proceeded? Should I have just sent the email to the
police, instead of coming here all on my own? Would they believe
me with everything else that was going on?
I swiped away the many flies surrounding me and walked
cautiously towards him. His head was bent forward. He was tied to
the chair with a thick rope.
“Hello? Peter Larsen?”
I approached the man with an eerie feeling inside.
He’s not moving. He’s not answering. Something is wrong here.
Something is very wrong. Please, let him be asleep. Please, let him
just be asleep.
I walked around the man in the chair, expecting the worst, but
nothing I could have imagined could ever have prepared me for this.
Oh, the horror. I didn’t even know this was possible?
The man’s throat had been cut horizontally with a sharp object,
and his tongue was pulled out through the open wound, making it
look like a necktie.
I gagged, then turned around and threw up for the second time
this day.
48
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
L et me start off by telling you all a little story,” Jonna Frederiksen
began.
Lisa rolled her eyes with a smirk.
Now isn’t that sweet? The old lady wants to tell stories. Well, go
ahead, granny. Bore them to death.
“The other day I was on my way home from SuperBrugsen. I had
just bought some milk and a few other things.”
Come on! Please! Who cares what you bought in the
supermarket. This is an election, for crying out loud.
But, much to her surprise, the audience seemed to be interested
in her story. Lisa looked at their faces and realized most of them
were also old. They could relate to what she was saying, couldn’t
they?
Damn!
In the crowd, Lisa spotted a reporter form the local paper. She
knew how important it was to get him to write about her key issues.
Merethe had told her how important he was, and now he was looking
all interested at the old lady.
“When I had put my purse in the basket on my bike, a car drove
up next to me and a person approached me. She said she needed
directions, but I had never heard of the place before, and soon I
realized that it was a scam.”
Lisa widened her eyes. What was this? Did she have something
interesting to say? Did she have a cause?
 “As it turns out, the guy in the car tried to steal my purse from my
basket, but I grabbed him by the ear and made him give it back.
Then, I sent them both off and told them to never show their faces
here on the island again. I can tell you, they were suddenly in a
hurry,” she said, and laughed.
Lisa was paralyzed. The crowd laughed too, and now they were
applauding her. The journalist was writing on his pad and taking
pictures of her. What was this? He was supposed to take pictures of
Lisa. She was the winner here!
“But, jokes aside,” Jonna Frederiksen continued. “To me, this was
a turning point. I grew up on this island. I remember a time when we
didn’t have to lock our doors. A time when there was no crime here,
and everyone could walk safely at night. The last two years, we’ve
had people being brutally killed, we’ve had people disappearing and
never being found, and our own mayor for numerous years was
killed in what is believed to be an arson-fire. We’re losing the
tourists. Stories about them possibly getting their valuables and
wallets stolen by criminal Eastern European gangs are spreading
widely and scaring them away. Criminals are coming here to exploit
the fact that we are not used to crime; we are not properly protected.
I say we take back charge of things. I say we bring back security.”
Oh, no she didn’t! She pulled the local-card! It’s not fair. I can
never be a local. I can never tell stories about how it used to be. Did
she mention the Eastern Europeans? That was my key-issue. That
was supposed to be my cause, the one I got elected on! What the
hell is this bitch trying to do?
Desperately, Lisa looked at Merethe, who was standing behind
the curtain. She shrugged when Lisa signaled her what was going
on? More people had started to gather, attracted by the story, and
faces were listening to the old woman with great interest. Some were
nodding in recognition of the problems she pointed out, others were
looking at the person next to them and agreeing.
You need to do something, Lisa. She’s got them! They like her!
They love her, for crying out loud! You have to do something!
“So, that is why if you elect me, dear fellow islanders, I will fight
for the local police to be strengthened, and not cut back as they are
trying to now. I will fight to get the criminals off this island. We’ve
never had crime like this here before, and we never will again.”
Do something now! You need to say something, something that
tops whatever she said.
Lisa leaned forward, grabbed the microphone and yelled. “I
couldn’t agree more. Hey, my name is Lisa Rasmussen, but most of
you already know that, since you’ve probably seen my picture on
posters, but I completely agree with Jonna Frederiksen here. The
Eastern Europeans pose bigger and bigger problem for our tourists.
We have all seen how it’s going down; we have all felt it in our
businesses. But they are not the only problem we’re facing here on
the island. That’s why, if you elect me, I’ll make sure to fight so that
not only will the Eastern Europeans be unable to come here and do
their crime, but also the Asians. Yes, you heard me right. Asians
pose huge problems today. Just the other day, I had a very
unpleasant encounter with one. They come here with their
unsanitary ways and bring all these diseases with them. They bring
them to our food in the supermarket; they sneeze in public places.
They have SARS, MERS, and the flu. Yes, that’s what they bring
here…rats and bird flu. And they bring it all to the supermarket!”
Lisa looked at the many estranged faces in the crowd, and
realized she might have lost them a little. Yet, she continued.
“And Ebola,” she said, trying desperately to find a common
ground, something they could all agree on. “We need to fight Ebola.”
The faces didn’t look any less alienated. Lucky for her, the entire
debate was interrupted when someone burst out of one of the
buildings facing the square, yelling and screaming in terror.
49
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
HI was!”screaming as I ran out of the building. The terror of what I
had seen had overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t stop yelling.
“Call the police. There’s been a murder!”
Someone ran to me and grabbed my arm. It was the reporter
from Fanoe Times, Hans Lejbach. He had his camera around his
neck and a notepad in his other hand.
“Emma Frost?” he said, startled. “What’s going on?”
“A man…in a chair…dead. Call the police!” I stuttered.
“Where?”
“In that building,” I said, panting desperately, suppressing my
desire to scream again. The images of the man still flickered before
my eyes; my heart raced in my chest. I pointed. “Third floor to the
right.”
Hans Lejbach reached into his pocket and found his phone. He
walked away while talking to the police. Others came running, and
soon I was surrounded. I felt dizzy and fell to my knees.
“What happened?” I heard someone say.
“It’s Emma Frost,” another whispered.
“Oh,” someone else replied.
Turmoil broke out. People were whispering and murmuring about
me. I tried to block them out, while catching my breath. At first, I
wanted to explain. I wanted to tell them why I had hacked, that I had
never used it for bad things, that it had helped solve murder cases
and that my boyfriend was innocent, that he certainly wasn’t a
pervert, but then I realized I didn’t owe them any explanations. It
didn’t matter what they thought. Besides, they wouldn’t believe me
anyway. It was no use.
I was still bent over on my knees, trying to calm down, when a
hand reached out to me. I lifted my head and spotted Jonna
Frederiksen, the new candidate. She smiled. I put my hand in hers,
and she helped me up.
“Emma Frost?” she said.
I nodded.
“I’ve read all of your books and loved each and every one of
them.”
I looked at the old lady with the warm hands. “Thanks,” I said,
quite surprised by this sudden gesture. The people surrounding us
went quiet. I got the feeling they had great respect for the old lady.
“No problem. Us islanders must help one another,” she said.
The police came, and I gave my testimony to Allan. I told him
what had happened, how I had known from the email, how I had
gone out there to see if it was true, and found him. Allan nodded and
wrote everything down on his pad. When he was done, he looked up
at me.
“Thanks, Emma. By the way, I’m sorry for all the trouble lately.
How’s Morten holding up? We miss him at the station.”
“He’s at a meeting with the chief in Esbjerg right now. But he’s not
good. He’s frustrated. It was a set-up.”
Allan nodded. “I know. None of us believe he would ever do such
a thing. I just hope he comes back soon.”
“So, what do you think about this?” I asked, and looked up at the
building.
Allan scratched his head. “It’s ugly. The way he was killed, I
mean. It’s what they call a Columbian Necktie. I’ve read about it, but
never actually seen it. Quite nasty.”
“Was he related to Ulrik Larsen, who died the other day?” I
asked.
“Brother. Ulrik was the oldest,” Allan said.
“So, I guess it’s fair to say that the two killings were related,
huh?”
 “Probably not a bad assumption.”
“And the mayor?”
“What’s that?” Allan asked.
“The murder of the mayor. Could that be related?” I asked.
“We’re investigating them separately. I can’t see any link between
them. Plus, the mayor and Ulrik didn’t know each other, according to
the mayor’s wife. Well, I’d better…” Allan signaled that he had to get
back to work. I grabbed his arm and held him back.
“So, are you arresting this kid, this Tommy Malthesen, who sent
the email to my daughter?” I asked.
“We’ll take him in right after we’re done here. Now, say hi to
Morten from me, will you? And stay out of trouble.”
50
 JULY 1965

T hey rode their bikes to old Hansen’s farm. Erling and Per stayed a
few meters behind them on the road, so Ulrik and Jonna could talk.
They discussed the murder of Malcolm X, and Jonna told him that
she heard there was a book coming up this fall, an autobiography
that they both agreed they simply had to read.
Ulrik sighed and looked at Jonna.
“What?” she said shyly.
“I’ve never met anyone who wanted to discuss Malcolm X before.
I’ve never met anyone as interesting to talk to as you are. I thought I
was the only one with a passion for books.”
Jonna blushed. It didn’t make her any less beautiful. On the
contrary. Even blushing looked good on her. Ulrik watched her and
reached out his hand to grab hers while they biked down the road
and turned into the gravel that marked the beginning of old Hansen’s
property.
“So, what does your brother do for this man?” Jonna asked.
“Handiwork, I guess. The old man is all alone, and has no sons.
So, he pays Peter to fix stuff around the farm. Peter’s been saving
his money. He wants to travel when he’s done with high school. I
guess I envy him a little. I would love to see the world. It’s silly, but I
once had a dream of visiting libraries all over the world.”
“That’s not silly,” Jonna said. “I kind of like that idea.”
Ulrik chuckled. “Yeah it would be nice. But having to take care of
my father’s farm takes all of my time. I’m not sure there will be much
time for traveling in my future.”
Jonna shrugged. “You never know how life will turn out.”
“I guess not.”
Ulrik liked that. Jonna was so right. You really never knew what
life would turn out like, did you? Up until a few months ago, he had
never thought he would meet a girl like her. He never thought he
would be able to discuss important things with anyone again, since
he stopped going to school. He thought the rest of his life would be
all about pigs and corn. But along she came, and everything was
changed. Maybe there would be traveling in his future, after all.
Maybe he was going to visit libraries and museums all over the
world. Maybe some day…
They drove their bikes into the courtyard. It was very quiet at the
farm. The dogs were sleeping by the stairs.
“Where is he?” Jonna asked.
Per and Erling threw their bikes in the grass and started fighting
and laughing. Ulrik shook his head. He wondered what was ever
going to become of his baby brother. He was so wild. So out of
control. Well, it was entirely their mother’s fault, wasn’t it? She
spoiled him so much. She thought he could never do anything
wrong.
“He might be in the barn,” Ulrik said, and pointed. He hoped he
was right. He wanted so badly to get this over with, to deliver the bag
with food, then get back and drop off the two boys, so he could once
again be alone with Jonna. He still had a bike ride to town, and
maybe they might catch an hour at the library before she had to be
home. If he hurried up, they could just make it.
“Don’t go anywhere, boys,” he said to Per and Erling. “Stay close.
We’re leaving as soon as I deliver this to Peter.” He grabbed the
sack his mom had packed with rye bread sandwiches, and started
walking towards the barn. Jonna walked next to him and grabbed his
hand in hers.
“Peter?” Ulrik called. “Peter?”
Ulrik had spotted his bike over by the main building, so his
younger brother was still there. It was all about finding out where he
could be, and preferably in a hurry.
 “Let’s try the barn first,” he said, still looking around to see if he
might spot him somewhere else.
Ulrik grabbed the handle on the big gate to the barn and pulled it
aside. But the barn was empty except for an old tractor and a lot of
bales of straw.
“Peter?”
“Maybe he’s somewhere else,” Jonna said. “Maybe we should go
to the main house and ask Mr. Hansen?”
Ulrik had hoped to be able to make the delivery without having to
face the old man. He had never liked him much. He gave him the
creeps.
“Sure,” he said, thinking it was by far the smartest move, since
old Hansen would know what he had asked Peter to do for him.
“Come on, boys. We’ll knock on the door to the main house. Follow
me.”
Ulrik walked up the stairs and stopped in front of the door. Two
dogs were sleeping heavily outside. One of them opened his eyes
and took one glance at Ulrik, then went back to sleep. Ulrik knocked.
There was no answer. He knocked again. “Mr. Hansen? It’s Ulrik
Larsen!”
Ulrik growled in irritation. “Hansen is old,” he said. “Probably can’t
hear us.”
The door was ajar and opened when he tried to knock again.
Ulrik stepped inside. Jonna paused.
“You think it’s okay to just go in?” Jonna asked.
“Sure. I’ve been here a million times. The old man probably can’t
hear us, or maybe he’s fallen asleep. I can give him the sack, and
then he can give it to Peter. He might be working all the way down
on the other end of the paddocks. He might be repairing the fence or
something. We could end up spending the rest of the afternoon
looking for him. This way is much easier.”
“Alright,” Jonna said, and they all followed Ulrik inside the house.
It smelled like old wet dog inside. Ulrik looked at Jonna, who held her
nose.
“Mr. Hansen?” he yelled. “It’s Ulrik Larsen. I brought dinner for
Peter.”
 “Maybe we should just put it in the kitchen, if he’s not here” Jonna
whispered.
Ulrik thought it was an excellent idea. Hopefully, they would find
it. If they didn’t, then his brother would survive. Ulrik loved his
brother, but he wasn’t spending all day on this. Not when he could
spend time with Jonna.
“I thought I heard something,” Jonna said, all of a sudden.
Ulrik heard it too. “Must be the old man.”
“It sounds like it came from down the hallway.”
Ulrik looked at Jonna. “I’ll just leave the food in the kitchen,” he
said.
Jonna gave him a look. “You can’t do that. If no one knows it’s
there, then he’ll never get it. Your brother will starve. You have to at
least tell the old man, so he can tell Peter. It’s the least you can do.”
Ulrik sighed. He knew she was right. But he really didn’t want to
have to walk into one of the rooms and talk to the old man. Jonna
pushed him gently. “Go on. The sounds are coming from behind that
door over there.”
“Okay,” he said, and started walking. Jonna and the boys were
right behind him. Per and Erling were very quiet for once. Probably
scared to death of the old house, Ulrik thought to himself. The
sounds became louder and louder as they approached the door, and
Ulrik wondered for just a second what was going on behind that
door. Still, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door wide open, so
wide that all of them saw what was on the other side of it. On the
bed, tied down with a leather belt, lay his brother. His beautiful
innocent brother strapped down, naked, and on top of him was the
old man…forcing himself on him.
Ulrik gasped. Jonna let out a small shriek.
“What the hell is going on here?” Ulrik yelled. As he did, his eyes
met Peter’s, and he realized Peter was crying.
“Help me,” he wheezed, barely able to breathe underneath the
heavy weight of the old man.
In that second, Ulrik blacked out. Later on, when trying to recall
what happened, he would remember yelling something, then turning
around and grabbing old Hansen’s rifle that was leaned against the
wall behind the door. He would remember yelling for the old pervert
to get the hell off his brother, while pointing the rifle at him. He would
remember the old wrinkled body moving, the loose skin dangling,
and the face pleading and telling him he couldn’t help himself, telling
him to have mercy on an old man. He would remember all that,
including the look in the old man’s eyes as he fell to his knees and
Ulrik yelled and screamed at him till everything exploded inside of
him. He would remember that. But he wouldn’t remember firing the
rifle. He wouldn’t remember Jonna screaming. He wouldn’t
remember the blood spurting or the brain mass sprayed on the wall
behind the old man as his face exploded. No, Ulrik wouldn’t
remember the details of this event for many years afterwards, but his
brothers and friends would. And they would never ever forget.
51
 NOVEMBER 2014

Iofwas quite shaken, still, when I returned to my house. The images

the old man sitting in his chair with his tongue pulled out through
his neck, wouldn’t leave me. I poured myself a whiskey and sat down
in the living room. Brutus was staring at me from the corner. I sighed
and looked at him.
“Is that all you do, huh?”
I drank from my glass, then grabbed my iPad from the coffee
table and googled Columbian Necktie. Apparently, it was first used
during the outbreak of La Violencia, the Colombian civil war from
1948 till 1958. It was intended as a method of psychological warfare,
meant to scare and terrorize. Today, it was used by drug kingpins to
intimidate others.
I took another sip of my whiskey, wondering how this could have
anything to do with what was going on here on our little island.
I never finished the thought before Morten walked in the door. I
had left a message on his voicemail about what had happened. I
was pretty out of it at the time, so I had probably scared the crap out
of him.
“Emma?” he yelled.
“In the living room!” I yelled back.
He stormed inside. “Are you alright?”
I tilted my head from side to side, then lifted my glass. “This helps
a little.”
 He relaxed a little when he saw my smile. He took off his jacket
and put it on a chair, then sat down next to me on the couch. “That
sounded like a bad scare. Did you say his tongue was pulled out of
the wound?”
“A true Columbian Necktie, yes.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “That sounds nasty.”
“It was.” I finished my drink and could feel the effect. Helped calm
me down. “A kid, some teenager admitted to having done it in a letter
to Maya. It’s all a mess.”
“You want me to get you another one?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. The kids are coming home in a little while,
and I’ve invited almost everyone we know over for dinner, so I have
to cook all afternoon. I can’t be drunk. I don’t have the time.”
Morten chuckled. I put my head on his shoulder. “So, how was
your meeting?”
Morten exhaled.
“That bad, huh?” I said. “Maybe I should pour you a drink?”
“Nah. I’ll get some red wine later tonight. That should be enough.”
I lit up. “You’re staying the night?”
“Oh, yeah. Jytte is at a friend’s house anyway.”
“A party?”
Morten shrugged. “I hope not.”
“At that age, you never know,” I said, thinking of how much I used
to party when I was in high school. I thought of Maya and wondered
when it would start for her. Usually, Danish kids started drinking at
the age of thirteen or fourteen, but I didn’t think she had started yet. I
was happy she hadn’t, since I thought it was way too early, but I
hoped that she still had a good social life, and that she wasn’t
missing out. Nah, it would come eventually. I wasn’t really looking
forward to having to pick her up at someone’s house all wasted, so I
was in no hurry.
“So what did the chief of police say?” I asked.
“There was an entire committee there. I told them my story. Told
them how we’re being harassed. I’m still suspended, but they told
me they had heard my story and they’d wait for the investigation to
be done before they made their final decision. I did what I could, now
it’s no longer in my hands. They’re not going to find any more bad
things on my computer, so now it’s up to them whether they’ll give
me the benefit of the doubt.”
I put my arm around his neck and hugged him from behind. “I’m
sure you’ll get your job back soon.”
“I hope so. I miss it.”
I was trying to think of something truly comforting to say, when
the kids suddenly came home. I served them afternoon tea with
toasted bread and jam.
“When can we go look for a new dog?” Maya asked.
“Done,” Victor exclaimed, then jumped out of his chair and
sprang for the yard. “Don’t forget your jacket!” I yelled after him.
“So, when can I?” Maya repeated.
I exhaled and sipped my tea. I really wasn’t in the mood to have
to go down to that shelter once again and pick out a dog. “Dr.
Sonnichsen will be here any moment,” I said. “So, it’ll have to wait.”
“So, maybe after we’re done?” Maya said.
“I…” Maya’s eyes were pleading. I felt so bad for her. She had
really loved Kenneth. “I’ve invited Sophia and the kids and grandma
and grandpa over for dinner. I have a ton of work…”
Maya jumped out of her chair and stomped her feet. “I knew it! I
knew you wouldn’t keep your promise. It’s so UNFAIR!” she yelled
and stormed out the door. I heard her angry steps on the stairs and
then her door slam hard. Music was soon thumping.
Morten chuckled. “Glad to see that she’s getting better,” he said.
I grabbed another piece of toast and put jam on it. The doorbell
rang, and I went to open it. It was Dr. Sonnichsen. She was holding
an umbrella over her head. The rain was pouring heavily outside.
“Good afternoon,” she chirped, as she closed the umbrella.
“Maya’s upstairs,” I said. “She’s a little upset. We…well, Kenneth
died last night. She’ll tell you the rest.”
“Naturally,” Dr. Sonnichsen said. She seemed to be completely
unmoved by the fact that the dog had died.
“I’ll talk to her,” she simply said.
“Thanks. You really are a lifesaver. I wouldn’t know what to do
without you.” I closed the door behind her and let her walk inside.
Brutus was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, blocking her way.
“Hi, Brutus,” Dr. Sonnichsen said, and approached him.
 The dog stared at her with its white piercing eyes. Then he did
something I had never seen him do. He got up, raised the hair on his
back, and growled at the doctor.
“Brutus!” I said. I looked at the doctor. She seemed perplexed.
“I’m sorry. He doesn’t usually do this. Brutus, move away from the
stairs!”
Brutus didn’t move an inch. The doctor whimpered and pulled
back.
“I’m sorry. He usually never growls,” I said.
“Well, he is a pit bull, isn’t he? They’re known to be the nicest of
dogs, then suddenly one day, turn on their owner for no apparent
reason.”
I looked at the doctor, who tried to squeeze by the dog. I had
never heard that before. I grabbed Brutus’ collar and pulled him
back. He turned and snarled at me.
“Brutus!” I said, while Dr. Sonnichsen disappeared up the stairs. I
couldn’t believe he had growled at me. To be honest, he was scaring
me more than ever. Especially after what the doctor had said. I
wondered if it was safe to have him in the house, this close to my
children.
Victor came in through the patio door. “Brutus!”
The dog immediately reacted. It wagged its tail and walked
towards him like a completely different dog.
“Brutus. Where did you go? We were in the middle of a game.
Come.”
I watched as the dog walked off with my son. Morten put his arm
around me.
“Can you believe that?” I asked. “I tell you, that dog freaks me
out. I can’t have him growling at people coming to my house. I’m
afraid he might attack someone some day.”
Morten chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, what were you
planning on making for dinner?”
“Dinner! I completely forgot. I’m having company in just three
hours, and I have no idea what to make yet.”
52
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
HThe
i, Maya, how are you today?”
numerologist walked in the door to Maya’s room and found
her on the bed. She was crying. Music was pounding from the
speakers on the floor. The numerologist turned the music down.
“Oh my, Maya. Are you alright?” She sat on the bed and looked
at the girl. Maya hid her head in her pillow. “It’s okay, sweetheart.
You can tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell anyone.”
Maya said something into the pillow, but nothing but muffled
sounds came out.
“I heard something bad happened to Kenneth?” the numerologist
said. “I’m so sorry to hear that he was killed. I can’t believe anyone
could do such a cruel thing to your poor dog.”
Maya moved the pillow. “Killed?”
The numerologist smiled. “Yes.”
Maya looked like she didn’t believe her. The numerologist
wondered if she had said too much. Apparently, the girl didn’t know.
“Well, let’s not talk about that anymore,” the numerologist said. “I
understand you being upset. It is hard to lose your dog.”
Maya sat up. “What do you mean he was killed?”
The numerologist reached into her bag and pulled out a book.
“Let’s not talk anymore. Today, I thought we should look into…”
“You mean to tell me someone killed my dog?” Maya continued.
She was not letting this go.
“Well yes, or…I don’t know, Maya.”
 “Was that why she didn’t want me to see him before we buried
him? What happened to him?”
“I don’t know, Maya. Maybe you should ask your mother about
that. I don’t even know if he was killed or maybe he died of natural
causes. Maybe he ate something.”
Maya shook her head. “No. No. You said you couldn’t believe
anyone would do something that cruel. That’s what you just said.
You know what happened, don’t you? Spit it out. I want to know.”
The numerologist felt sweat break out on her forehead. She
closed her book and looked at Maya. “Now, Maya. I’m not going to
say this more than once…”
The numerologist stopped when the doorbell rang downstairs and
voices suddenly filled the house. They weren’t ordinary voices. They
were angry voices, people yelling downstairs.
“What on earth is going on?” the numerologist asked.
“Maya walked to the door and opened it. “I don’t know. But one of
the voices sounds like it belongs to my dad.”
She walked into the hallway and the numerologist followed. They
stood on top of the stairs and listened to the angry yelling. Maya’s
dad was the one yelling the loudest.
“I am taking him with me now. He’s not going to spend one more
day in the company of that sex offender, that…that pervert. I can’t
believe you’d expose my son to that. I can’t believe you, Emma!
Where is he?”
Maya’s father stepped forward in a threatening motion.
“You’re not taking him, Michael,” Emma yelled back. “Nothing has
been settled yet. As far as I know, we still have joint custody over
him. And he’s staying here until you have a court’s order that states
otherwise. He’s my son, Michael.”
“Goddammit, Emma. He’s my son too.”
The numerologist stared at the scene with a huge smile she
couldn’t restrain. This was excellent. By far, better than anything she
had hoped for.
“I’m going to get him now, Emma. You can’t stop me. You can’t
keep me from him. I’m his father, for crying out loud. I want him. And
I’m taking him now.”
 Michael stepped forward, when Emma’s boyfriend Morten
stepped out in front of him. “You’re not going anywhere. This is
private property, and you’re trespassing right now. You’re not
welcome here.”
Michael looked at Morten, then lifted his clenched fist in the air
and smacked him. Morten fell backwards. Emma Frost screamed.
“You bastard!”
The numerologist felt like clapping and dancing. This was so
much FUN!
Morten was back on his feet now and took a swing at Michael. He
hit him on the jaw and Michael fell backwards. Michael then stormed
forward and tumbled Morten to the ground. Morten kicked and
managed to get Michael off him. Michael grabbed him by the collar
and lifted him up, then swung his fist and hit him twice in the face.
Emma screamed. The numerologist laughed. Emma grabbed a lamp
from the small table, swung it, and smashed it on Michael’s head. He
fell backwards to the ground with a loud yell. Emma stood bent over
him, still with the remains of the lamp in her hand. She looked like
she would hit him with it again, but instead, she yelled.
“Get the hell out of here, you bastard.”
Michael got up to his feet. Humping and whining, he got out of
the front door. Morten ran after him.
“If I ever see you again, I swear, I’m gonna kill you!” he yelled.
The numerologist stayed on the stairs with a big smile on her
face.
Oh, will you now?
53
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
I ’mMerethe
not going to lie to you. It doesn’t look good.”
looked at Lisa over her glasses. She was still standing in
the doorway of Lisa’s house. It was early morning. Lisa hadn’t gotten
the kids out of the house yet, and Christian was upstairs in the
shower. Usually, Lisa wouldn’t have let anyone come over this early,
but Merethe had insisted on the phone that it was important. She
had a crumb on her chin. Had she gained weight since yesterday?
Lisa believed she had. She looked chubby; her leggings were tight
on her. People that chubby shouldn’t be wearing leggings at all, in
Lisa’s opinion.
“May I come in?”
Lisa moved out of her way, and Merethe walked in. She took off
her coat and put it on a chair. Lisa scoffed, then found a hanger and
put the coat in the closet where it belonged. Merethe walked into the
living room, still wearing her shoes. It made Lisa’s skin crawl. She
hated when people didn’t take off their shoes in her home. Her white
carpets stained so easily.
“Mom, where is my backpack?” Amalie came out from the kitchen
and looked at her mother. It was amazing how helpless children
could be, even at the age of fifteen, Lisa thought, and pointed at the
backpack leaned neatly up against the wall in the hallway, all packed
and ready for her daughter to simply pick it up and run out the door.
Just like it always was. How hard was it to know after all these
years?
 “Thanks,” Amalie said, then sprang for the door.
Not even a proper goodbye.
“Let’s do this in the kitchen,” Lisa said, looking at Merethe’s dirty
shoes that were already planted solidly on her white carpet. Lisa
took in a deep breath, trying hard to calm herself down. In the
kitchen, Merethe took out an iPad and tapped on it. Lisa wondered if
Christian would be able to drop off Jacob in time for his classes to
start. Margrethe was running around the kitchen with a doll in her
arms. She approached Merethe with a small shriek, and gave her leg
a hug. Lisa picked her up and put her on her lap.
“These are today’s articles,” Merethe said, and handed Lisa the
iPad so she could see. She read the headline of the local paper.
IS LISA RASMUSSEN A RACIST?
“It’s basically all the same,” she said. “Even the local bloggers are
writing about it. They all think your remarks about Asians were very
racist. It’s not good. Your numbers are down. If they continue like
this, you’ll end up losing the election on Tuesday.”
Lisa scrolled the article frantically, while Margrethe tried to reach
out for it. Lisa felt like her blood was boiling. What was this? How
could they be this stupid? Hadn’t she just said what everyone else
was thinking?
“I…I don’t understand,” she said.
“Lisa. You can’t make racist remarks against a certain group of
people,” Merethe explained. “Remarks like those you made
yesterday will make people turn their backs on you. It can break a
political career in an instant. You have to be more careful. Now, the
way I see it, we still have many good things to work on, but we need
serious damage control. We need to turn the people’s mood. We
need to get the voters back somehow. What we need is something
big. Something that brings people’s sympathy back towards you.”
Lisa stared at the article. Christian came into the kitchen.
Margrethe saw her father and reached out for him. He grabbed her
in his arms.
“Well, we’re off,” he said. “You girls have a good time.”
Lisa hardly noticed him. She waved, distracted, while still looking
at the article. “Hmmm, bye, sweetie.”
 The door slammed and Lisa finally looked up at Merethe. “So,
how do we do that?” she asked. “How do we bring the sympathy
back?”
Merethe shrugged. “I have no idea. I thought you might be able to
come up with something good?”
Lisa stared at her campaign manager.
Is that dirt underneath her nails?
Who did she thinks she was anyway? She was the one Lisa was
paying a lot of money to make sure she won this election. She was
supposed to come up with the ideas here.
Yes, it’s definitely dirt. Doesn’t she ever wash her hands? Think
of all the diseases and germs that could be under her nails. She
brings that into my house?
“Well, I guess we’ll have to put our heads together and come up
with something, won’t we?” Merethe said, and finally removed the
crumb with her dirty nails when she scratched herself on the chin.
The crumb fell onto the kitchen table, and Lisa stared at it,
wondering if Merethe would pick the germ filled dirty crumb up
herself, or if she expected Lisa to do it.
54
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
DMorten leaned over and kissed.”me gently. I smiled and held his
face between my hands.
“Yes it was,” I said. “It was so nice just to hang out with
everybody that I love.”
“Even though Sophia’s kids were quite noisy at the table,” Morten
said.
“Well, she’s got a lot on her plate, having six children. You need
to cut her some slack. I don’t know how I would survive.”
Morten kissed me again and put his head on my chest
afterwards. It was nice having a quiet morning in his arms. The kids
were already awake. I could hear them in the bathroom. I closed my
eyes and enjoyed the few seconds I had left.
“I’m glad that part is all over,” Morten said. “Having young kids
and all. I’m glad I’m not having any more of them.”
“Me too,” I said, holding him close to me.
I heard the kids in the hallway and pushed Morten off me. “I’ve
got to get up,” I said. “I need to prepare breakfast for the kids.”
“Not now,” Morten growled. “Can’t we stay like this for a little
longer…say, like forever?”
I got up from the bed and threw a sock at him. “No. Get up!”
Morten laughed and jumped out of bed. I put on some sweats,
thinking I’d take a shower later, once the kids were off.
 In the kitchen, Victor was already sitting on his chair, staring at
the table. Brutus was sitting behind him like he was guarding his
back.
“Good morning, buddy,” I said, while putting bread in the toaster.
“Technically, you don’t know if it is going to be a good morning or
not until it’s over,” he answered.
“Wow, someone’s in a good mood,” I said.
“As a matter of fact, you’re right. I am in a good mood.”
I poured him some juice, and served it to him. Victor never got
irony. “That’s great, buddy. I’m glad you’re in a good mood.”
The toasted bread was done, and I buttered it for him and put
some jelly on top and served it. Maya stormed in and threw herself
on a chair. Morten followed.
“Any coffee yet?” he asked.
I looked at the coffeemaker. Water had started to run through.
“Not yet. But soon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Kenneth was killed?” Maya asked.
My heart dropped. I turned to look at her. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me someone killed him?” she repeated.
“I…I…Where…Who told you he was killed?” I asked.
“Dr. Sonnichsen. She said yesterday that she couldn’t believe
anyone would do such a cruel thing to a poor little dog. She also said
he was killed.”
I stared at my daughter, baffled. Then I looked at Morten, who put
his hands up, resigned. “Don’t look at me. I haven’t told anyone.”
“So, it is true?” Maya said. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who killed
him? I want to know, Mom!”
The coffeepot finished and made a sound to let me know. I didn’t
react. I stared at my daughter, not knowing what to say or do.
Something was fishy here. How did Dr. Sonnichsen know about this?
“I wanted to protect you,” I said. “I didn’t think there was any
reason for you to know.”
Maya scoffed. “That’s so typical of you. Why can’t you ever make
a right decision in your life? I bet he was killed because of those
things you’ve done, those things that everyone is talking about. Why
is it that my life has to be so miserable just because of you?
Everything bad in my life has something to do with you. It’s not fair.
I’m not the one who should be punished.”
“I’m sorry, Maya. But we’ve all been victims here of this person
harassing us. Morten has been suspended, I am facing some real
serious charges, and you lost your dog.”
“Why do I have to be dragged into all of this?” Maya said, tearing
up. “Why did Kenneth? He never hurt anyone. Why does everybody
around you have to suffer?”
Her remarks hit me right in solar plexus, and I felt tears welling
up. I bit my lip to keep them back.
“I’m sorry, Maya. I really am.”
Maya got up and pushed her chair backwards. “No, you’re not.
You don’t care about anyone but yourself!” she said, grabbed her
backpack, and stormed out.
I exhaled and leaned back. Morten poured me some coffee and
put a hand on my shoulder. Victor had, as usual, not reacted to any
of this. He was in his own little world while finishing his toast.
“So, this Dr. Sonnichsen, huh?” Morten said. “How well do we
know her?”
55
 JULY 1965

“
Y ou killed him! You killed him! Oh, God. Oh, dear God. You killed
him! You really killed him!”
Jonna was still screaming when Ulrik finally came back to being
himself. He looked at her terrified face, then at the lifeless faceless
body on the carpet in front of him.
“Oh, my God,” Peter said. He was sitting up on the bed. His body
and face were badly bruised. “What are we going to do?”
Behind Ulrik, Per and Erling were whimpering and crying loudly,
holding onto each other. Ulrik let the rifle fall to the ground, while
feeling the urgency of the situation overwhelm him. If anyone found
out he had killed the man, they would all be sent away. Ulrik, Peter,
and Jonna were all old enough to be prosecuted. They would go to
juvenile prison. Their lives would be ruined. They all knew, and now
their eyes met as they understood the gravity of the situation.
“We need to get rid of him,” Peter said.
Jonna nodded. “Peter’s right.”
Ulrik looked at both of them, then turned to look at the two young
ones. “You two. You can help too,” he said. “Get buckets of soap and
water and help Jonna clean off the blood. Peter and I will get rid of
the body.”
He looked at his younger brother. Peter was shivering. When he
moved, he was in pain. Still, he managed to get dressed and help
Ulrik carry the remains of old Hansen out of the bedroom and down
the hallway. They avoided each other’s eyes as they carried him out
into the yard. They put him on the grass. One of the dogs came
running over and sniffed the body, but Peter shooed it away.
Ulrik found shovels, and they started to dig. It was getting darker
out and the twilight soon covered them. They dug without sharing a
word of even a look. Ulrik focused solely on the task of removing the
traces of their deed, of his deed, and even though he wanted to, he
never asked Peter a single question about how this had happened,
or if this was something that had been reoccurring. He did, however,
wonder for how long his brother had been a victim of this abuse from
the old man. He wondered about the bruises he had seen on his
brother’s arms and back earlier this year that he had claimed had
happened while working. But he never asked. The embarrassment
on Peter’s face told him he shouldn’t.
When the hole was deep enough, they threw the body in,
covered it in gasoline, and lit it on fire. They threw branches on top of
it and let the fire burn out. It smelled awful. Once the fire died out,
and the body was nothing but charcoal and bones, they covered it all
with dirt. Ulrik’s hands were shaking heavily as he put the final
shovel full of dirt on top.
Lastly, they moved an old huge oil barrel from further down the
yard, rolled it across the grass, and placed it on top of the grave. It
seemed to cover the fresh dirt nicely.
They walked back inside and found Jonna and the boys finishing
up. They had scrubbed the walls and floors down and managed to
get rid of every trace. It looked so good, Ulrik almost felt like they
were going to get away with this.
They had to. They simply had to.
Ulrik gathered everyone in a circle and looked into theirs eyes,
one at a time. “This will be the last time any one of us ever speaks of
this, do you hear me? It is never to be mentioned again. Not to
anyone, not even each other!”
There was a short pause before everyone nodded. Ulrik stared
particularly at Erling and Per to make sure they understood what he
had said. He wasn’t worried about Erling, since he was a
troublemaker and used to keeping secrets from his parents to not get
in trouble. But Per, he wasn’t so sure of. Per shared everything with
his mother. Ulrik had never known him to tell a lie in his life. Would
he be able to keep this secret? Would he keep that big mouth of his
shut?
The five of them rode their bikes back to the farm in silence, and
when Ulrik asked Jonna if he should escort her home, she turned
him down. She drove off, while his mother scolded him in the
background for coming back so late with Per and Erling, whose
parents were worried sick. He kept staring after Jonna, even long
after she was gone, wondering if he would ever see her again.
56
 NOVEMBER 2014

IDr.called Dr. Faaborg immediately. He was the one who had referred
Sonnichsen to me to help out Maya.
“Well, hello, Emma, dearest. How are things?” he said cheerfully,
as usual. “You’ve certainly put yourself in the eye of the storm this
time, huh? Well, I, for one don’t care if you hacked anyone. I don’t
even care if you hacked the Queen. I love your books anyway. Any
new ones on their way?”
“Yes, if I could just get my computer back,” I said. “It’s almost
done, but I can’t finish it, since the police confiscated my laptop.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that. I had hoped to get a
signed copy.”
I chuckled. Dr. Faaborg was my biggest fan. It warmed me. “You
will. But that’s not why I’m calling. I wanted to know a little more
about this Dr. Sonnichsen you sent to me to work with Maya…”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. A doctor? I didn’t refer any
doctor, as far as I recall,” he said.
Uh-oh.
“Dr. Sonnichsen,” I continued, with a strange feeling inside of me.
“You sent her to me to work on Maya getting her memory back?”
The doctor went quiet for a little while before he answered. “I’ve
never heard that name before. This is very strange. You say he’s a
doctor?”
“She. She is an occupational therapist. She specializes in
children with amnesia.”
 “Never heard of her. Sorry. You say I referred her to you?” Dr.
Faaborg said, sounding very puzzled.
“That’s what she told me,” I said, getting more and more angry.
This woman had been in my house every day for months now. I let
her close to my daughter. I let her into my life. I couldn’t believe this.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No. I’m the one who’s sorry,” I said. “Sorry for being so incredibly
naïve.”
We hung up and I looked at Morten.
“Never heard of her, huh?” he said.
“Nope.”
“Then who the hell is she?” he asked.
I shrugged and sipped my coffee. “Your guess is as good as
mine. But now it all makes sense. If she’s been spying on us in order
to hurt us, that’s why she was outside my house in the middle of the
night on the night of the fire. I always thought I owed her for catching
that crazy woman, but now I’m rethinking it. I always wondered what
she was doing there at that time of night. It was strange.”
“What about the hacking? Had you told her about that?”
“I never tell anyone. Except for you, of course. But she might
have seen it on my computer or something.”
“So, you think she sent me that email as well?” Morten asked.
“The one with the link in it?”
“She must have. To frame you. And she killed Kenneth. Oh, I
hate her for doing that. But that explains why none of the dogs
reacted to her being here in the house. I bet she went in from the
patio. She knows where I keep the spare key. I told her once, in case
she arrived and we weren’t home yet or something. I said she could
always just walk in from the back and wait for us.”
Morten exhaled. “How many times have I told you it’s stupid to
leave that key out there?”
“I know,” I said. “It’s just such a great help when Maya loses her
keys, which she does constantly, or for Victor in case I get stuck in
town and don’t make it home in time. It’s convenient for all of us.”
“And for burglars and people like Dr. Sonnichsen who want to
hurt you as well,” Morten said sarcastically.
 I drew in a deep breath. He was right. I shouldn’t leave the key
out there. Maybe if I put it in a different place?
I tried to gather my thoughts and wrap my mind around this
discovery. If Dr. Sonnichsen didn’t exist, if she hadn’t been sent by
Dr. Faaborg, then who was she? And why on earth did she want to
hurt me so badly?
It was time I found out. I was done being a victim.
57
 NOVEMBER 2014

L isa’s head was spinning with numbers and headlines from today’s
paper. She couldn’t believe they could be so degrading towards her.
How could they not agree with her on this important subject? She
didn’t understand it.
She grabbed a cart and stormed into SuperBrugsen. She had a
few minutes to pick up some things for tonight’s dinner before she
had to be back at the office for another meeting. She hated grocery
shopping on her lunch break, but it was the only chance she had in
today’s busy schedule. She was planning on making Goulash
tonight.
She was going to make it the real Hungarian way with potatoes,
so she hurried to the vegetables, found a bag of potatoes, carrots,
bell peppers, and onions, and threw it in the cart before she hurried
to the aisle with spices. She didn’t have time to read the labels, but
simply pulled down all the paprika she could find, then rushed to the
next aisle to get some cereal for tomorrow morning, along with some
milk and cheese. All that was left on the list now was canned
tomatoes.
“Aisle six, by the canned vegetables,” she mumbled to herself
and looked at her watch. It was quarter past one. She had fifteen
minutes to finish up here, drive all the way home with the groceries,
and back to city hall to make it to her meeting. She had to hurry. It
was the most important meeting of the month. This was the City
Council’s budget meeting. This was when they discussed how to
spend the money. She had to be there. Especially now that there
was no mayor. She would be able to get some of her most pressing
matters pushed through. This was the time for her to show them she
was capable of being in charge. Show them how it was going to be.
Being late for a meeting like that showed a lack of character. It
showed weakness. She couldn’t do that. They hardly respected her
as it was at city hall. But they were going to. Oh, yes, they were.
As soon as she won.
Lisa speculated like a crazy person, while pushing the cart
through the aisles. She had to figure out a way to change people’s
opinion about her. She had to regain their sympathy, their trust. But
how? She had only a few days left before the election. How was she
going to turn it all around in that short of a time?
Well, she’d have to think about that later. Now, it was time to
focus on making it to that stupid meeting. Oh, how she wished she
didn’t have to deal with all these amateurs in city council. They could
drag out any matter for what seemed like eternity. All the paperwork
just because she wanted to put up more trash cans in the city. She
would have to change that in the future.
Lisa found aisle six and turned the corner, then she stopped.
There she was again. In the middle of the aisle stood that Asian
woman, her cart blocking the aisle. She was looking at some can,
reading the label very thoroughly. Lisa sighed. Her canned tomatoes
were on the other side. She had to get past this woman in order to
get to them.
Maybe she’ll move the cart once you get closer.
Lisa felt disgust as she walked with determined steps towards the
Asian and her cart. The woman didn’t react; she kept reading like it
was the most important matter in the world. Lisa came closer, then
stopped when she couldn’t get past her. She cleared her throat. The
woman still didn’t react. She had that rat sitting on her shoulder. Lisa
could have sworn it was mocking her, the way it looked at her. How
was she even allowed to bring that thing in the store with her?
“Excuse me,” Lisa said. “I’m kind of in a hurry here.”
“Just a second,” the Asian woman said. She turned her head and
looked at Lisa with a huge smile. “Gotta read those labels. You never
know what they put in those cans, do you? Gotta be careful these
days. Can’t have that gluten, and especially not wheat, now can
we?”
Lisa sighed. She looked at her watch. “Well, no we can’t,” she
said, trying to be polite. “I’m all into eating right and organic too, but I
really can’t be late either. So, could you please?”
“Now, eating organic isn’t everything,” the woman said. “You have
to be careful with that as well. Read the labels, I always say.”
“That’s great, but could you maybe move your CART so I can get
to my meeting?” Lisa said.
The Asian woman smiled again. “Always in a rush, are we?” she
asked and finally moved her cart out of the way so Lisa could get
past her. She growled and ran for the canned tomatoes. “Stupid
Asians,” she mumbled and pulled two cans down.
“Today’s number is five; you do realize that, don’t you?” The
Asian woman yelled after her. “Gotta be careful on days that are five.
Five can mean death or bad accidents.”
Lisa froze with the can in her hand, and turned to look at the
Asian woman. Then she smiled widely. Not her forced election smile,
no, but a smile coming from deep within; a genuine smile, indicating
that she was very very pleased at this moment. Pleased with the
idea that had just popped into her mind, inspired by what the Asian
woman had said.
A smile stating that she now knew exactly what to do to win this
election.
58
 NOVEMBER 2014

W e knocked on the door to Dr. Sonnichsen’s apartment, and rang

the doorbell several times, but no one answered. I felt so furious, I
could have exploded. Morten looked at me.
“She’s not home. Do you want to wait for her to get back? Or
should we come back later?”
I shook my head. “Neither. I want inside of her apartment. I want
to invade her privacy the way she has invaded mine.” I pulled out a
screwdriver I had brought, just in case we ended up in this exact
situation.
“No, Emma. Don’t,” Morten said when he saw it.
I didn’t listen. I worked the lock and opened it with one smooth
movement.
“Wow. Where did you learn to do that?” Morten asked.
“Same place I learned all the other criminal stuff,” I said. “It
comes in handy when you forget your key every now and then.”
“Your ex-boyfriend? He sounds more and more sympathetic,”
Morten said, lifting his eyebrows.
“I know. He was bad company, but the sex was great,” I said with
a smile. Morten went pale.
“No, just kidding,” I said. “He was awful, as a matter of fact. I was
young. I liked the bad guys back then, but I knew I had to get out of
there if I didn’t want to live a life where I would only see my husband
on Wednesdays during visiting hours, if you know what I mean.”
 Morten chuckled. I pushed the door open. He grabbed my
shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this? It is a serious offense.
Breaking and entering. You know that. I can’t protect you if you get
caught. I’ll go down with you. If anyone finds out, I’ll never work as a
policeman again. It’s really bad.”
“I know. But it’s something I have to do. I have to find out who this
woman really is, and I have a feeling she’s not going to tell me
willingly.”
Morten closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s probably right, but…”
“I’m already being charged with serious offenses. It can hardly
get any worse, the way I see it,” I said.
“But it can, Emma. It can get much worse.”
“You stay here then. I’m going in,” I said, and walked inside the
apartment. Morten waited outside the door for a little while before he
finally decided to follow me in. We walked into the living room and
stopped.
“Wow,” Morten said.
“I know.”
The walls were plastered with articles and pictures of me. Some
of the pictures had a red circle around my face and the words DIE
written above it. It was really creepy. The number five was written
everywhere, painted in big letters on the wall with red paint.
“Well, at least we’re not wrong about this woman, huh?” I said,
and walked over to the computer. I opened the lid and turned it on.
“I know I’m not allowed to be anywhere near a computer, but I
crossed the line into being a criminal when entering this apartment
anyway, so…” The screen opened and a picture of a big rat
appeared as the background. I gasped and cupped my mouth. I had
seen that rat before.
“I know this rat,” I said with a small shriek. “I’m not sure, but…”
“Look what I found,” Morten said, and picked something up from
the top drawer of the dresser.
“A passport?” I said.
“Two, actually,” Morten said, and showed me the name and the
picture of the first. It was clearly Dr. Sonnichsen’s. “Check the
second one out,” he said, and opened it. The picture staring back at
me made my stomach turn.
“Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar!!”
59
 OCTOBER 1965

T hree months had passed since the incident, and none of them
had spoken of it since. Ulrik hadn’t seen Jonna. He had looked for
her at the library on the last Saturday of the month, but not found her
there. He had tried to drive by her house a few times, but never tried
to knock on the door. He had a feeling she didn’t want to see him
again.
Ulrik was getting anxious. The body of old Hansen hadn’t showed
up, but people had started wondering where the old man could be.
Especially Ulrik’s father, who had asked Peter to go down there on
several occasions to check on the old man. Peter had done so
without saying anything, but come back with the same message…
that the old man wasn’t there.
“That’s strange,” Ulrik’s dad would say. “The old man never
leaves his home. Not since his wife died.”
When they had come home after burying old Hansen in his own
yard, Peter had told their father that the old man didn’t need his help
anymore, and their father had taken it that Peter had misbehaved
and been fired, since he had ended up with all those bruises. Their
father had assumed it was Peter’s own fault for not doing proper
work or being rude to Mr. Hansen. Peter hadn’t disagreed, but Per
had wanted to defend his older brother. And every time it came up,
how Peter had not behaved right at old Hansen’s farm, Per had
opened his mouth, and it was only because of Ulrik’s look or
because he interrupted at the right time that he hadn’t said anything
yet.
It worried Ulrik immensely. He wasn’t sleeping at night and he
constantly watched over Per to make sure he didn’t accidentally spill
the beans on them and ruin their lives. It had turned Ulrik into a
nervous wreck. He had tried to talk to Per about it; he had tried to
explain to him again and again that he had to keep that big mouth of
his shut about what happened, or else…well, he had never figured
out the proper threat yet, but something bad would end up
happening if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. That was sure.
But keeping the secret was hard on Per. Being only six years of
age, Per was used to telling his mother everything. The two of them
were extremely close. And the more time that passed, the more Ulrik
worried that this would be the day when his big secret was revealed.
One day, they were sitting at the dinner table. Once again, their
father brought up old Hansen and how odd it was that no one had
seen him in months. Ulrik and Peter’s eyes met across the table. It
was rare that the two of them looked at each other, since they had
avoided contact ever since that day, but whenever old Hansen came
up, they did. Ulrik felt his hands shaking under the table. Peter bit his
lip and blushed.
“Why are you boys hardly eating?” their mother asked. “Ulrik,
you’re getting too skinny. You’re working yourself to death. You have
to eat something.”
“The boy is fine,” their father said. “He’s not the one I worry
about. I worry about the other one over there,” he said, and nodded
in Peter’s direction. “If he can’t even keep a job…if he’s rude and
gets himself in trouble like he did at Mr. Hansen’s, then what are we
supposed to do with him? He’s no good if he can’t work. Is he going
to live here forever? What worries me the most is the fact that he
refuses to even tell me what it was he did that was so bad that
Hansen had to give him a proper spanking before firing him. I simply
don’t understand why he won’t tell me. Tell me, goddammit,” their
father yelled and hit his fist on the table.
They all jumped at the sound. Ulrik looked at Per, while breaking
into a sweat. His hands were clammy, and it was hard to hold onto
the silverware. He kept staring at his baby brother. He could tell how
it tore the little boy up to not say anything.
“You’re just no good, are you?” their father asked Peter.
Per opened his mouth to say something. Ulrik felt his heart stop.
“He didn’t do anything bad, Daddy,” Per yelled. “The old man is
bad. The old man is very very bad…he deserved what…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Per was interrupted by a
loud yell coming from Ulrik. Ulrik jumped to his feet and ran over to
grab his baby brother and toss him to the ground. He held him down
while Per yelled and screamed. Their mother started screaming as
well.
“Get off your brother, Ulrik! You’re hurting him!”
Ulrik let go of Per, whose face had almost turned blue, and that
was when Ulrik realized he had been choking him. Ulrik stared into
the eyes of his younger brother as he tried to catch his breath, and
sensed something had broken between them. Something vital. Per
no longer trusted his older brother, and Ulrik no longer trusted him.
60
 NOVEMBER 2014

Istrange.
couldn’t believe what we had discovered. This was all very very
Could Dr. Sonnichsen and Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar
be working together? Were they both living here in this small
apartment? Or, what was going on here?
My hands were shivering in anger as I examined the computer.
Morten rummaged around the living room, opening drawers.
“I can’t believe this!” I exclaimed. “She’s been watching me. Look
what I found. Morten appeared behind me, and I showed him what I
had discovered. I showed him the videos, the many hours of
recordings from my house. “She’s been monitoring our every move.”
Now I saw the anger in Morten’s eyes as well. “What the hell is
this? Did she put cameras up in your house or something?”
“Sure looks like it. That’s how she knew I’d been hacking; that’s
the proof she claimed to have in the article on Facebook. I can’t
believe this. I feel so violated, so invaded.”
“Tell me about it. I mean, she has footage of the two of us…?”
Morten said, shocked.
“I know. It’s really intimidating.”
“It makes me so angry.” Morten made a growling sound. “I can’t
believe this.”
“The question is, what to do about it?” I said. “We need to figure
out if she is any relation to Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar, because
she’s a criminal and there’s a warrant out for her arrest, am I right?”
 “Yes, you’re damn right. That’s my case, but the woman left the
country, according to our investigation. Traveled to Korea and never
came back. How is she even in this country without our knowledge?
She can’t have come back by plane. I have her picture up in every
airport in the country. Even Interpol is looking for her.”
I leaned back in the chair, while looking at the two passports on
the table. “Korea, huh?”
“Yes, we got her route from the travel agent who sold her the
tickets. There was a return ticket, but she wasn’t on board that flight.”
“Hm,” I said.
“What?” Morten asked.
“Could we check who else was on that flight? “
“You think Dr. Sonnichsen could have been on board instead?
You can’t just give someone your plane ticket, you know.”
“Nah you’re right. Plus Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar’s
passport is here, so that means she must be too, right?”
Morten grabbed a chair and sat down next to me. “Yeah. I guess
so.”
I clicked on the doctor’s mailbox and opened it. “But Korea.
There’s something that rings a bell for me about that place.
Something I read recently. An article about how far they are in South
Korea in the technology of transplantations and plastic surgery. Lots
of Asian women travel to South Korea to get to look more like us
here in the West. You know, the cheekbones, the bigger eyes, the
rounder butt, the skin. They want to look like us. And they’re so good
at it down there that people have trouble entering their homelands
afterwards, because they don’t look like the picture on their
passport.”
“What are you getting at?” Morten asked. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“What if someone came to them and asked them to do the
opposite?” I asked.
“You mean, turn someone Asian?” Morten looked puzzled. “Is
that really possible?”
“Why not?” I searched the emails, and quickly found several
coming from a Korean address. “See here,” I said. “This is a
correspondence she’s had with a Korean doctor. He’s helping her
get a new passport as well. See what he’s written here. A name and
an address. Plus, he asks her if she has experienced any pain since
the operation. Look, she wrote back that she is very satisfied with the
results, except the nose…she’s a little concerned whether it looks
real enough. It’s still very swollen. It all makes sense, Morten. I
always thought she looked at little off, that her skin was a little light
and her face looked a little strange. But I figured she was only half
Asian, that either her mother or father was Danish. I often wanted to
ask, but never did.”
“That’s true. Now that you say it, I can totally see it. You really
think she had her face changed?”
“And now she’s here getting her revenge. It makes sense,
Morten. We ruined her career by discovering what she was up to.
Now she wants to get back at us. Oh, my gosh, I feel awful. I’ve had
her this close to Maya this whole time! Maya, whom she held
captive, whom she experimented on with drugs. What kind of a
mother am I?”
Morten put his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be alright. But now I
believe we must hurry out of here before she gets back. We have no
idea what she might do if she finds us here.”
“You’re right. Just let me do one last thing.” I pulled out a USB-
drive and put it in her computer. Then I copied everything, all the
videos, the emails, everything on the computer to the drive, and
pulled it out. “There. If she tries to destroy the evidence, then I have
a backup.”
“I’ve always heard back-up is very important. Now, I finally
understand,” Morten said.
He had barely finished his sentence when my phone rang. It was
my lawyer. “Michael has been beat up. It’s bad,” she said.
“How bad?” I asked anxiously.
“He’ll live, but he’s in the hospital. He says you and Morten did
this to him. He says Morten threatened to kill him when he was at
your house. Is this true? This is not good, Emma. He’ll use it against
you. Morten might be charged with attempted murder. His lawyer
says the two men who beat him up told him they were sent by
Morten. When the police in Copenhagen spoke to them, they told
them they had been paid by Morten as well. It doesn’t look good,
Emma.”
 “But, Morten would never…I would never?”
“I hope not. But the evidence is pretty strong against you, Emma.
It’s getting harder and harder to defend you.”
61
 NOVEMBER 2014

S he saw them leave the apartment building as she drove onto the
street. She parked the car and shut the engine off to avoid attracting
their attention. They looked angry. Both Emma and Morten walked
with very firm and angry steps. It didn’t take the numerologist many
seconds to figure out that they had been to her apartment.
Her cover had been blown. They knew who she was. They
weren’t dumb people. They were annoying and irritating, and she
hated their guts, but they weren’t stupid. They knew who she was. If
only she had gotten back a little earlier. If only she hadn’t spent all
that time talking to that stupid politician in the supermarket, then she
would have gotten back earlier, maybe just in time to kill them both in
her apartment. It wasn’t how she had planned to take them down,
but it would do.
Now, she had to come up with something completely different.
The numerologist sighed and looked at Misty, sticking out her
little face from the purse on the passenger seat.
“I think you’re right. We can’t go home. It’s too dangerous.”
She watched as Morten and Emma drove off, and then started
the engine. She had to get out of there. She decided to follow Emma
and Morten, to see if she could somehow come up with a great way
to get rid of them, but as she watched them drive off to the police
station, she stopped and turned the car around. This was worse than
she thought. She had to think of something fast.
 She drove back to Emma’s house and parked the car far enough
away for them not to see it when they came back. She walked into
the backyard and found the spare key, where Emma always left it.
She hadn’t moved it yet, even after what happened to Kenneth. She
really wasn’t being very careful.
The numerologist let herself in and walked into the kitchen. She
went through the drawers to find a knife or something else she could
use as a weapon. Frantically, she pulled things out, but none of them
were spectacular enough. She wanted Emma to be in pain when she
stabbed her. She didn’t want her to die immediately. She wanted her
to look in her eyes and plead for the numerologist to kill her. She
opened another drawer, when suddenly, she heard a sound coming
from behind her. She gasped and turned to look straight into the
eyes of the big dog.
“Brutus. You scared me,” she said. “You gotta stop sneaking up
on people like this.”
But, as the numerologist looked into the eyes of the dog, she
suddenly pulled back. There was something in the way he was
looking at her with his white shining eyes that made her feel
uncomfortable all of a sudden.
The dog let out a low deep growl, then raised the hairs on its
back and showed its teeth.
“Brutus. It’s me, Dr. Sonnichsen. Don’t you remember me?”
The dog growled and soon cornered her. The numerologist’s
heart started to race.
“Come on, Brutus. You know me, don’t you? You can’t be mad at
me for what happened to your friend, can you?”
The dog came closer and started barking. A deep intense bark
that frightened the numerologist so much, she jumped up on the
kitchen table with a small shriek. She sat on her knees while the dog
growled and stared at her from the floor.
“Shush. Go away,” she said, her voice shivering in fear.
But the dog didn’t listen. It kept growling, and they stayed like that
for a long time. Every time the numerologist tried to move, the dog
got to its feet, growled and showed its teeth. So, the numerologist
stayed still.
 “You’ll have to sleep at some point,” she whispered. “All dogs
sleep during the day. As soon as you close those big ugly white eyes
of yours, I’ll be down from here. And that kitchen knife over there will
be the last thing you ever see. Just you wait.”
62
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
W e’re telling the truth here, Allan. You’ve got to believe us. She’s
trying to ruin everything for us. She even had some guys beat up
Michael, Emma’s ex-husband, and made it look like I paid them to do
it. But I didn’t. I would never do such a thing. You’ve got to believe
me.”
Morten was pleading with his colleague. We had just finished
telling him everything about Dr. Sonnichsen, and how she had
framed us. I had even showed him what we had found on the
computer and put on the USB-drive.
“First of all, shame on you, Emma. You know you’re not allowed
anywhere near a computer,” Allan said. “Second of all, I do believe
you. I’ve believed in your innocence all along, Morten. I haven’t
known you long, Emma, but Morten, I know. I’ve known you for more
than ten years. I know you don’t watch illegal porn on your computer.
But I’m not the one you have to convince.”
I looked at Morten sitting next to me in Allan’s office. I could tell
how much he missed being at the station.
“We know. But we’re asking for your help,” I said, and put my
hand on top of Morten’s. “We don’t know where else to turn.”
Allan drummed with his fingers on the desk. “I can understand
that. It’s a difficult situation, I have to admit. But I’m swamped with
this case and…”
“The case of the two brothers?” I asked.
 “The Larsen brothers, yes,” Allan said. “I can’t seem to crack this
case open. I mean, we’ve arrested this kid, this Tommy Malthesen,
who claims to have killed the man in his letter to your daughter, but
he refuses to speak. All he does is sing this annoying tune when we
try to interrogate him.”
“What tune?” I asked.
“I don’t know all of it, or where it’s from, but it ends like this:

He has no face
He hides with the trees
He loves little children when they beg and scream…
Please!

“Have you googled it?” I asked.

Allan looked puzzled. “No. Can’t say I thought it was important.”
“Well, try.” I nodded towards his computer.
Allan shrugged. “Can’t hurt, I guess.” He tapped on the computer,
and pressed enter. “I just put in the last lines, let’s see what it comes
up with. Ah, I see. It’s a lullaby. Slendy’s lullaby?”
“Slender Man,” I said, and looked at Morten. “I had a feeling. So,
you think Tommy Malthesen killed Ulrik Larsen as well?”
Allan shrugged. “I guess.”
“But another knife was used to kill Ulrik Larsen,” I said. “That one
belonged to Jens Krohn. Whatever happened to him?”
“We had to release him,” Allan said.
“What about Rasmus, his son?” I asked. “Did you ever question
him about the murder?”
“I…we had him in here, yes. We asked him about the knife and
whether he could have taken the knife. I didn’t really think he could
have done it.”
“Hm,” I said, and looked at Morten.
“I know that look,” Morten said. “What are you thinking?”
“Mayor Bang’s wife said there was a guy in her house on the
night of the fire, right? He was dressed in a suit and tie and had no
face, just like Slender Man. Two teenage boys connected to two
other killings. Actually, it’s three if you count in William Korsvig,
whose bike was found near the mayor’s house. There’s something
that doesn’t add up here. What’s the connection between the mayor
and the two brothers?”
Allan shrugged. “I don’t believe there is any connection. The two
brothers have a clear connection, of course, but the mayor?”
“Wasn’t there a third brother?” I asked.
“What?” Allan said.
“Yes, there was. I’ve been reading Helle Larsen’s letters to my
grandmother. Helle Larsen was her sister. She was also Peter and
Ulrik Larsen’s mother. She had three sons, not two.”
63
 NOVEMBER 1965

“
WUlrik looked at Peter. His hands
.”
were shivering when he bit his
nails. He had been a wreck the last couple of months. They all had.
Ulrik couldn’t eat anything, nor could he sleep. He was constantly
afraid of what Per might say. So, he had asked Peter, Erling, and
Jonna to meet him for a walk on the beach. He hadn’t seen Jonna
since the day of the incident. It hurt to see her again, especially
seeing how she looked at him now. So differently. Like she was
disgusted by both him and Peter.
“Per will tell if we don’t do something,” Ulrik continued.
It was drizzling, and Jonna’s hair was getting soaked. She was
still beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen, but she had gotten
older, he thought. It seemed like years had been added to her face
since the last time they saw each other.
“I heard him last night with our mother,” Ulrik said. “He asked if
God knew everything. He asked if God could forgive murder. I don’t
think he can keep his mouth shut. That’s why I have asked all of you
to come here.”
Ulrik looked at Erling. He was the same age as Per, but seemed
so much older, so much more mature. Ulrik never worried about him
telling anything. He was as scared as any of them. Plus, he was
used to keeping secrets.
“So, what do you suggest we do?” Erling said.
 “I think we need to scare him a little. Just enough to keep his
mouth shut. Let him know we mean business. I mean, if he tells
anyone about this, then it’s all over. It’s not just my life that get’s
ruined. It’s all of our lives. Forget all your dreams for the future.
Forget everything.”
Erling and Jonna both looked serious.
“Do you really mean to tell me you want to hurt your own brother
to shut him up?” Jonna asked. “You really have changed, Ulrik. Or
maybe I just never really knew you.”
“Shut up!” Ulrik yelled. “Do you think I enjoy this, huh? You think
I’m happy about how everything has turned out? I did it for my
brother, for crying out loud. The man was hurting him. I tried to
protect him. I tried to protect any children he might come across in
the future. The world is a better place without him.”
“But he’s our brother,” Peter said. “Per is our brother.”
“So what?” Ulrik said. “I’m not talking anything bad. Just a little
scare, that’s all. Make sure he doesn’t speak about it ever again. I
tried talking to him. I’ve tried everything, but he doesn’t want to listen
to me anymore. I’m afraid of what he might do. I’m so scared he’ll
get angry at me and rat me out. I don’t think he fully understands
how serious this is, how serious it will be if he tells.”
Jonna and Peter looked at each other. Erling looked at Ulrik. “I’m
with Ulrik on this,” he said. “I can’t have my life destroyed. I have big
plans for my future. My dad was just elected to Folketinget. He’s a
very important politician. I want to follow in his footsteps when I grow
up. I want to go into politics. I can’t have a criminal record. My dad
tells me every day. Keep your path clean, he says. Even just a minor
misconduct, and they’ll be able to dig it out. That’s what he tells me.”
Ulrik listened to the young kid talk about his future, and wondered
how he could be the same age as his younger brother. To be this
clear about his future plans was truly amazing.
“Who else is with me on this?” Ulrik asked, looking at his brother
and Jonna. “All of our futures depend on it. Remember that when
you make your decision.”
Jonna bit her lip. “Can you promise me he won’t get hurt?”
“No one is getting hurt,” Ulrik said. “Just scared a little.”
 She nodded. He could tell she was still debating within. Finally,
she looked into his eyes. “I’m not happy about it, but okay. I’m in.”
Ulrik turned to face his brother. His poor pale brother who had
gotten really skinny lately. “Peter?”
“I don’t like this, Ulrik. I really don’t.”
“We’re all in the same boat here, brother. I just can’t stay awake
one more night wondering if Per is going to tell soon, wondering if
I’m going to jail the next day. You know what I mean. I’ve heard you
up at night as well. We need to have assurance here. We need to be
able to move on with our lives.”
Peter nodded. “Alright then. Count me in.”
64
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
Y ou’re telling me there’s a third brother?” Allan said. “I haven’t
heard anything about a third brother. Where is he now?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t read all the letters yet. But I’m
sure you can find him somewhere in the system.”
Allan tapped in the computer. I felt so jealous. I missed my
computer so badly.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “I’ll have to go and talk to him right
away. Looks like he’s in a home somewhere here on the island. He
needs to know about his brothers. I’ll go right away.”
“And what about Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar?” I asked.
“Could you take her in for questioning?”
Allan sighed. “I don’t know. You say she’s not Dr. Sonnichsen?
That she had her face changed. I…I need to think about it a little.
She’s Asian now, you say?”
“I know it’s a little much to take in, but yes. As I told you, and as
you can see by the emails, she had her face changed in Korea. I
don’t know if they’d tell you if you called down there and asked,
but…”
“You know what? You’ve been so nice and helped me out a little
here, so I’ll do you that favor and look into it, okay? But now I really
should go and talk to this Per Larsen and tell him what happened to
his brothers.”
We left the police station feeling down. Here, we had all this
knowledge, and still we couldn’t really get anyone to believe us.
What were we supposed to do? What was this woman’s plan
anyway? To destroy us?
“Let’s just go home,” I said, as soon as we were back in the car. “I
need to feed Brutus anyway. He’s been home alone all day without a
bite to eat. I completely forgot to give him food this morning. Poor
creature.”
Morten started the car. “He’s probably found something else to
gnaw on, like a chair or something.”
“Well, that’s not really his style,” I said.
We drove back in silence. It wasn’t until we drove onto my street
that I broke it. “So, what do you make of this case, huh? I can’t seem
to figure out how it is all linked. But I feel like I’m so close.”
“Well, maybe Allan will get something useful from the third
brother,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe.”
As he parked the car, I immediately heard barking. I got out and
slammed the door.
“Is that Brutus?” Morten asked.
“It sounds like him, but he never barks. Something has to be
wrong.” I started running towards the house, and went through the
front door. In my kitchen, I found Dr. Sonnichsen sitting on the
kitchen table, yelling at the dog, who seemed to have her cornered.
When she saw me, she gasped.
“Well, well,” I said. “If it isn’t Dr. Sonnichsen, or should I say Dr.
R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar?”
“So, you know. What else is new? You can’t prove anything
anyway. Get the stupid dog to let me go.”
“No, no,” I said. “First, you tell me everything you did. Every little
detail. I would like to know how you did it.”
Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar smiled. Suddenly, I recognized
the old doctor behind the new face. It was creepy. I couldn’t believe I
hadn’t seen it before. Her eyes gave her away.
“You mean how I changed my face? You mean how I planned to
destroy you? How I made the Facebook page, how I sent the email
with the dirty link to your little boyfriend, how I killed that little ugly
dog of yours that wouldn’t stop barking, how I paid two men to beat
up your ex-husband and make them say were sent by Morten? Oh, it
was so easy, Emma. You made it so easy for me.”
Brutus growled like he had understood what she said. I wanted to
yell at her as well. I felt so angry, but not as angry as Brutus, who
looked like he would attack her at any moment. Morten picked up the
phone and called Allan.
“Yes, she’s here now. Okay.” He hung up. “Allan is on his way
back from the home. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Dr. Sonnichsen tried to move, but Brutus growled again. A few
minutes later, Allan stood in the doorway. I pulled Brutus back, and
Allan approached her. “So, this is the lady you’ve been talking
about?”
Dr. Sonnichsen looked at Allan. “Thank you, dear Officer, for
coming. These two have held me captive for several hours now. The
dog there is crazy, and they’re even crazier. Thank you for coming
and saving me.”
“Tell Officer Allan what you told us,” I said.
“Tell him what? That your dog attacked me? That you rambled on
about how I was out to get you, to frame you. I have to say, Officer,
these two have lost their minds. As a doctor, I know these things. I
should have seen it coming.”
“They claim you’re really Dr. R.V. Devulapallianbbhasskar, who is
wanted by the police. Is that true?” Allan asked.
“Dr. what? That’s a strange name. Never heard of anyone by that
name. No, you have it all mistaken, Officer. My name is Dr.
Sonnichsen. No one would have such a crazy name. Everybody
knows you never put an R before a V.”
“Come on!” I yelled. “You just admitted everything to us. Now
you’re lying?”
Allan pulled me aside. “Emma. I can’t really arrest her. I don’t
have anything plausible here. You have to give me something.”
I was about to scream. The woman had just admitted everything,
and now this? I couldn’t believe it! She was really playing with us all,
wasn’t she?
“But the things from her computer?” I said, but I never finished
the thought before Dr. Sonnichsen exploited the few seconds of us
not paying proper attention. She jumped down from the kitchen
table, reached over for a kitchen knife, and grabbed Brutus by the
neck, holding the knife to his throat. Brutus growled, but she held
him tight.
“One step closer, and the dog dies,” she said, pressing the knife
against his throat.
Knowing how much my son loved the dog, I felt my heart stop.
Morten made a move.
“Don’t,” I said. “She’s killed one dog before in this house. She will
kill it. She’s not kidding.”
Allan pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. “Step away from the
dog,” he said. But Dr. Sonnichsen had another plan. She lifted the
knife and threw it towards Allan. He pulled to the side to not get hit,
and while he had the gun turned away, the doctor let go of the dog
and ran. I screamed and yelled for someone to stop her, then ran
after her, but she was faster than me. When I reached the back
porch, she was long gone.
“Crap,” I said.
Allan and Morten were right behind me. “It’s okay,” Allan said.
“She won’t get far. It’s an island, remember?”
“So, you finally believe us?” Morten asked.
“I believe she’s worth taking in for questioning,” Allan said. “But
I’m gonna need more proof eventually to keep her there. Do you
think you can get that?”
“I think I might know how we can get that,” I said.
“You do?” Morten looked at me, puzzled.
“Yes. I do. The cameras. Remember, she planted cameras in my
house? Well, my bet is they also recorded her confession just before
Allan arrived.”
“Oh, my God, I hope you’re right,” Morten said.
65
 DECEMBER 1965

A ll he wanted was to get his kitten. It was getting dark on this day
in December not long before Christmas, and Per was worried about
his kittens. His favorite cat on the farm, old Martha had given birth to
five of them just a week ago, and they gave the boy so much joy. He
played with them every afternoon when he returned from school.
They crawled on his body, and when he tried to walk away, they
would hang on to his legs with their little tiny claws and make the
cutest sounds. He simply adored them.
But Per had always been that way with animals. He liked them a
whole lot better than he liked people. Especially lately. Especially
after that day at old Hansen’s farm. That was when Per had realized
he really didn’t like people a whole lot. Not even his own two
brothers. He understood why Ulrik had been so angry. He
understood why he felt like killing the old man, but he didn’t
understand why he insisted on keeping it all a secret. Why didn’t
anyone tell their father that it wasn’t Peter’s fault that he had lost the
job? Per didn’t like the way their father talked to Peter and told him
he was good for nothing and that he would never amount to
anything. That’s why he wanted so badly to tell his parents the truth.
To clear Peter, to make their father like Peter again. That, and to
finally tell someone what had happened. Per couldn’t bear to have to
keep this secret. It was so hard, and it tore at him every day. It was
almost painful. His mother had begun to suspect that something was
going on. She could see it in his baby boy’s eyes. She asked him
often if everything was okay between him and his brothers.
Especially after that night when Ulrik had attacked Per during dinner.
That was when Per had stopped trusting his oldest brother. And he
had a feeling that Ulrik didn’t trust him either. Per was afraid of what
he might end up doing to all of them.
So, he had finally decided to tell his mother. He would do it
tonight when she had him come inside. He would tell her everything.
Just get it off his chest. He didn’t like keeping secrets. It gave him a
bad feeling in his stomach and made him not want to laugh and play.
All this was on Per’s mind when he saw the smallest of the five
kittens had run off towards the big road. It looked like it was going for
the forest on the other side. Per got to his feet and walked after it.
But the small kitten was faster than he had expected, and he had to
run a little to get it. It managed to run way into the road before he
finally grabbed it. He checked for cars before he ran out there and
grabbed it in his hands. He held it for a second and petted it on the
back.
“Don’t do that again,” he whispered. “It’s dangerous out here.”
That was when the car hit him. It came from his right side. That
was all he could tell. It hit him with a huge force and threw him into
the air before he landed on his head on the asphalt. He didn’t lose
consciousness, but no one could tell. He heard the tires screech on
the car that had hit him, then he heard it back up before he heard car
doors opening and steps approaching. He saw their faces, but they
didn’t know he could see them.
“Is he dead?” Jonna asked, terrified.
A cold finger was placed on his throat. His brother Peter’s face
was close to his. “No,” he said, relieved. “There’s a pulse.”
Then, his brother waved a hand in front of his face. “He’s not
blinking,” he said.
“He looks dead,” Erling said.
“Oh, my God, we killed him,” Jonna cried.
Ulrik slapped her across the face. “He’s not dead,” he yelled at
her. “Didn’t you hear that he had a pulse?”
Jonna cried. So did Erling. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to
go,” Erling whined.
Ulrik slapped him as well. “Pull yourself together!”
 “You said he wouldn’t get hurt!” Peter yelled at Ulrik.
“How was I supposed to know that he would run onto the road?”
Ulrik yelled back, his voice cracking. “How? The plan was to get him
in the car and take him to the forest, then beat him up and leave him
there, remember? This wasn’t part of the plan. It was an accident,
goddammit.”
“Well, you finally silenced him,” Peter said, with tears in his eyes.
His voice was trembling in anger and frustration. “Are you happy
now? Are you?”
66
 NOVEMBER 2014

M aya and Victor both came home shortly after officer Allan had
left. He promised they would catch Dr. Sonnichsen some way or
another.
“There aren’t that many places she can hide on the island. We’ll
get her,” he said to assure them, right before he drove off.
I wasn’t all that convinced that he was right. She had managed to
vanish before, and had tricked the police more than once.
“I’m going to my room. Dr. Sonnichsen will be here any minute,”
Maya said, as she came into the kitchen and threw her backpack on
the floor.
“About that…” I looked at her backpack on the ground, and Maya
saw it. She picked it up with a sigh.
“Dr. Sonnichsen won’t be coming anymore,” I continued, as the
backpack was picked up.
“What? Why?” Maya said annoyed. “What did you do?”
“Why do you always assume that I am the one destroying
everything?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Because you usually are. It’s always your fault.
You’re ruining my life!” Her voice was breaking as she spoke. I could
tell everything had been a little much for her lately, and decided she
didn’t need to know the truth about Dr. Sonnichsen, the only person
she had trusted the last several months. It would simply break her
heart to know that Dr. Sonnichsen had been the one to kill her dog.
She didn’t need that right now.
 “So, why isn’t she coming anymore?” Maya asked with a frown.
I looked at my beautiful almost-grown daughter, tilting my head to
the side. “I guess she felt you’re done. You’ve regained most of your
memory, and she told me you needed to get on with your life.”
Maya looked appalled. “And she didn’t even say goodbye?”
“She was in a hurry.”
That wasn’t a lie, I thought to myself.
Maya stomped her feet on the floor with a loud groan. “Arrrgh.
Why are grown-ups always so lame?”
Then she stormed upstairs and slammed the door to her room. I
shrugged and looked at Morten, who had hid his face behind the
newspaper. He had a smirk on his face. “That went about as well as
when I speak with my teenage daughter. You’re sure you don’t want
her to know the truth?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just can’t bear to see her
heartbroken again. She just regained trust in grown-ups by spending
time with the doctor. You can say what you want about her and why
she was really here, but she certainly helped Maya get better. I am
thankful for that, despite everything else.”
Morten looked at the clock. “I should get home and spend some
time with Jytte too. I think I’ll take her out to dinner tonight.”
I kissed his forehead. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.
You’re always welcome to bring her here, if you like. I would like to
bring our families together at some point.”
Morten nodded, then kissed my lips. “I’ll talk to her about it. But
tonight I think we’ll make it a father-daughter thing. But maybe
tomorrow night?”
I chuckled and kissed him back. That was always his answer. I
knew it wasn’t his fault. Jytte just didn’t want to accept the fact that
he was seeing someone, and she certainly didn’t want to meet my
family. I had to accept that. At least for now.
“See you later, gorgeous,” Morten said and left.
Victor was playing with Brutus in the yard and I watched them for
a little while, still amazed at the connection between the two of them
that seemed to be out of this world.
I sat on the couch in the living room, missing my computer. I
grabbed my iPad and scrolled through today’s newspapers that all
declared Lisa Rasmussen to be a racist after her blunder on stage. I
couldn’t stop laughing. She was truly something, that Lisa, but part of
me was happy she had a worthy opponent now, and I was definitely
going to vote for Jonna Frederiksen after this. I threw a glare around
the room, and my eyes stopped on the box of letters on the dresser. I
hadn’t had time to read them all. I wondered about the third brother. I
had asked Allan about his visit earlier today, and he had told me Per
Larsen was sitting in a wheelchair, and that he was severely autistic.
He was lost to the world, the staff had told him, and he was unable to
understand anything. Officer Allan had told him about his brothers
anyway, since he had to, but the man sat in his wheelchair, drooling
on himself, and didn’t react at all. He had been living in the home his
entire life. The nurse had also told Allan that the family hadn’t visited
him for as long as she had worked there, and she heard stories that
they never did. Only the mother came once for Per’s tenth birthday,
many years ago, but she never returned.
“It was pretty sad,” Allan said.
I picked up the box of letters, wondering how that young boy I
had heard about in previous letters as this boy filled with life and
happiness, how he had ended up like that. Carefully, I opened the
last letter in the pile and started reading.
67
 JANUARY 1966

DI amSafraid , I have some terrible news. A terrible tragedy has

struck our family. I can hardly believe it. My hands are shaking as I
write this to you, so you must excuse my bad handwriting. Three
weeks ago, Per was hit by a car, and was admitted to the hospital in
Esbjerg. We haven’t been able to visit him much there, since it is
very expensive and a long trip to the mainland for us. But we went
yesterday, and they told us Per’s brain was damaged when the car
hit him, and he will never be the same. Oh, sister. I am heartbroken. I
couldn’t believe this was the same little boy that brought me such joy
over the years. He was lying in the bed at the hospital, all lifeless.
They say he can hear what I say, but not understand it. They say he
is retarded. The blow to his brain made him retarded and unable to
take care of himself. I am crying as I write this, because this tragedy
has hit our family very hard. Not only have I lost my beloved Per,
who will now have to live in a home, they say, but I am losing my two
other sons as well. Ulrik was driving the car that hit Per, and Peter
was in it with him. So were Jonna Frederiksen and Erling Bang. The
boys haven’t been the same ever since. Peter left the day after the
accident. He packed his suitcase and told me he was going to live in
the city. He has dropped out of school and is working as a carpenter
at the local lumber company in Nordby. Ulrik is going away too, he
says. He can’t stand it here anymore, he told me this morning. Claes
is furious, but I sense it is no use to try and talk sense into him. Ulrik
has made his decision. He’s leaving the farm, and with both of the
other brothers gone, there is no one to take over the farm when
Claes wants to retire. He’s heartbroken. We all are. Seeing Per in
that hospital bed, unable to speak to me, was heartbreaking. At first,
they thought he would get better, but they no longer believe he will.
They told me to forget the boy I once knew…to pretend he has died.
“You’ve lost your son,” Mrs. Larsen, the doctor said. “Forget
about him. Try to have another child. That will make you forget about
him.”
But how can I forget about the most precious creature I have ever
known? How am I supposed to forget him when I still love him?
When I sense deep in my soul that he is still in there somehow? I
swear, I thought he understood what I told him yesterday. I spoke to
him for hours and told him everything that was going on at the farm,
and I am certain he understood it. I could see it in his beautiful eyes.
The doctors believe I’m just imagining it because I am mourning his
loss, but the way he looked at me, I think he’s still in there. He’s still
my little boy.
But now, they’ve taken him away. They’ve moved him to a home
somewhere on the island and told me to not come visit since it will
only make my mourning harder on me. It’s best for everyone that I
forget. Everyone seems to think so. Even Claes. He thinks we
should try for another son, but I don’t know if my old body can take
any more. I don’t know if I can?
Dearest sister. I am so sorry to have to bring you all this bad
news. I hope you are well in the city.
Kind regards,
Helle
68
 NOVEMBER 2014

Igrandmother.
was crying as I read the last lines of Helle Larsen’s letter to my
This was terrible. What a devastating tragedy. I put the
letter on the table and looked at Victor playing in the yard. I
wondered about him and his diagnosis of mild autism. I was
suddenly very grateful that it wasn’t worse than that. I knew he would
never have a normal life, but at least he didn’t have to spend it in a
home somewhere in a wheelchair. At least he could play outside; at
least he went to school along with other children. His life would be
harder than most people’s, yes, but I had a feeling he would be all
right somehow. There were days I worried more about him than
others, but I had a feeling deep down inside that he would figure out
how to deal with this. He would get by.
I wondered about the two brothers and them being murdered like
this. Why were they being killed? I couldn’t stop thinking about the
fact that Erling Bang had been in the car as well. There was, after all,
a connection between the three of them. They had known each other
as children.
I didn’t get to finish the thought when Sophia stormed through my
front door. She looked upset.
“Christoffer is gone!”
“What do you mean gone?” I asked.
“They called from school and told me he didn’t come to class
today, and he’s not at the house. I’ve called all of his friends, not that
he has that many, but none of them have seen him all day.”
 “When did you see him last? This morning?” I asked.
“Yes. He ate breakfast with the other kids and they rode off to
school like they always do. Josephine tells me he parked his bike
close to hers and then went inside the school, but his teacher says
he never showed up. I need your help to find him.”
“Of course,” I said. “Do you want to just drive around, or do you
have any ideas where he might have gone to. Does he have like a
special place he likes to go to?”
Sophia looked confused. “I…I have to be honest and tell you I
don’t know. He’s my oldest and therefore mostly takes care of
himself while I’m busy with the young ones, you know? Christoffer is
the one who takes care of most things himself. He’s eleven. He’s my
easy child. I never have any trouble with him. He spends most of the
day on the computer.”
I called Victor and asked him to come inside.
“Have you seen Christoffer today?” I asked, when he and Brutus
came running. Victor shook his head without looking at me.
“No.”
“Not even at school?”
He shook his head again. “He skips school sometimes to be on
the computer,” he said.
I looked at Sophia.
“Really?” she said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Only when you’re at work,” Victor said.
“Maybe we should take a look at that computer of his,” I said.
“We need to see what he’s been up to lately.”
I took Victor and Brutus with me over to Sophia’s house across
the street. All of her kids were running around the living room and
jumping on the couch; the twins were playing soccer inside. My head
was about to explode after just a few minutes inside her house.
“The computer is in his room,” she said, and showed us inside
and closed the door to shut out the noise from the screaming kids.
“Here. My mother gave it to him a year ago. She thought he needed
it to get ahead in school. He’s been on it ever since. I can’t drag him
away.”
“Minecraft?” I asked and touched the mouse so the screen turned
on.
 “Yeah. All the kids play that now, right?” Sophia said, looking at
Victor.
“Not Vic,” I said. “He likes it outdoors. Don’t you, buddy?”
Minecraft was already on. Sophia looked at me with a shrug. “I
don’t know anything about this.”
“I’m not allowed to touch a computer,” I said, thinking I didn’t want
to risk anything again. Allan had been very angry at me for touching
Dr. Sonnichsen’s computer. I could get in serious trouble for this.
“Court’s orders.”
Sophia exhaled. “I guess I’ll have to try then. Could you guide
me?”
“I guess there’s no harm in that. As long as I’m not touching the
computer,” I said.
Sophia was about to sit down by the computer, when Victor
stepped up. “Can I try?”
I looked at him, puzzled. He had never shown any interest in
computers. “No, Victor, I don’t think…”
Sophia moved away from the computer. “Let him. I’ll just break
something.”
“I really don’t think…” I didn’t get to finish the sentence before
Victor was sitting in front of the screen, his fingers dancing across
the keyboard. I dropped my jaw. I had never seen him this focused.
He tapped and clicked, then wrote something. I walked up behind
him and realized what he was doing was very advanced. So
advanced I didn’t even know what he was up to. Numbers and letters
danced across the screen. I was truly impressed.
Victor stopped. “There,” he said. “Christoffer has been talking to
the same guy inside Minecraft for the past three months. I recovered
all their chats. He adopted Christoffer in August.”
“Adopted?” Sophia asked. “What does that mean? You’re
freaking me out here. What do you mean he was adopted?”
“You can get adopted in Minecraft,” I said. “If they adopt you, you
become part of their family. Maya does it all the time.”
“This guy has adopted many others,” Victor said. “He’s very good
at protecting himself, so I couldn’t find anything on him, but I found
the profiles and IP-addresses on all of the kids he adopted, then
found their real names and addresses.”
 “How on earth did you do that so fast?” I asked, puzzled yet
slightly proud, and very impressed.
“I used a trace route tool that I just invented. You wouldn’t
understand.”
“What?”
“Here are their names and addresses. They all live around here,”
Victor said, and left the computer. I stared at the screen. “I didn’t
even know you had ever used a computer before?” I asked, looking
at my son.
“I haven’t.”

We read through the chats with great concern. Apparently,

Christoffer had been chatting with this guy about becoming one of
his so-called proxies. It had started out with the man contacting him,
asking if he wanted to be adopted; then, when he accepted, they
started talking about his family. Word for word, we read how
Christoffer felt…like no one cared about him in his family, how he felt
lonely, how there was never any time for him, and this man, this guy
who called himself Slender Man told him he could be his father if he
liked, he could give him a family. He would care for him and could be
the father he needed. He told him about the other kids he had
adopted and made part of his family. There was just one thing, one
little favor Christoffer needed to do in order to be one of them, to be
accepted into the family.
He had to kill someone.
“Are you kidding me?” Sophia said, when she reached the line
where he told Christoffer that he expected him to do it.
“How…how did I not see this?” Sophia asked, with tears in her
eyes. “I mean, my son…my poor son has been so lonely in this
house. And I didn’t know. What kind of a mother have I been? Why
haven’t I kept an eye on him on that computer? I didn’t know he
could get himself in trouble like this. I had no idea. And now this? My
son is no murderer. He can’t kill anyone. Do you think he would do
it? For what? To become one of them? I don’t understand.”
I exhaled deeply while looking at the other names on the list
Victor had found for us. I recognized all of them. Rasmus Krohn,
William Korsvig, and Tommy Malthesen. All were the teenagers that
had showed up in the investigation of the killings. So, this guy had
made them all kill by promising them a new family? Was it really that
easy? Apparently, it was. Apparently, Christoffer had been so hungry
for grown-up company, for a male-role model that he was willing to
do anything. This guy was really good. He knew how to push all the
right buttons to get to the boy. He told him exactly what he needed to
hear. It was really creepy to read how he slowly reeled him in and
persuaded him to do this, telling him to trust him and that he would
understand one day. For now, all he needed was to know his loyalty
was really with Slender Man. This was how he would show him. This
was how he became one of them. He made Christoffer plead to be
accepted. He made it something Christoffer dreamt about and
longed for, something he, in the end, lived for. Something worth
killing for.
I decided I no longer cared about getting caught using a
computer and sat at the keyboard. I went through Christoffer’s
emails and found an online order for a Slender Man costume from an
online store. This was it. That was the last proof we needed to know
what he was up to.
“We need to find him before he does anything stupid,” I said.
“But where do we look?” Sophia asked. “It might already be too
late?”
“The name of the person he’s supposed to kill is here on the
bottom. Jonna Frederiksen,” I said as I looked up at Sophia. “It
doesn’t say when or where.”
“Isn’t that the woman who is running for mayor now?” Sophia
asked.
“It is. And I have a feeling I know why this is the person supposed
to go next.”
“What do you mean?” Sophia said.
“I’ll explain later,” I said. “Right now, we need to find Christoffer
before he finds her.”
69
 NOVEMBER 2014

T hey had agreed to another debate. A late afternoon debate on the

main square of town at Lisa Rasmussen’s request. She wanted to be
able to explain herself properly to the public before the election, she
had told the editor in chief at Fanoe Times, which was the
newspaper that arranged the debates every year. At first, the editor
had completely rejected her request, but Lisa Rasmussen had taken
the man’s stapler and stapled him in the forehead until he agreed to
do it. She had given him one of her election smiles, then told him if
he ever wrote a bad word about her in the paper again, she would
make sure her daughter Amalie never talked to his daughter Maria
again. They went to the same school, and Amalie was the most
popular girl there. She was the one everyone wanted to be friends
with. Amalie had the power to make his daughter’s life a living hell,
Lisa told him.
Now, she was standing behind the heavy curtain on the scene
where, in about half an hour, the debate with Jonna Frederiksen
would once again take place. But this time, it would be different. Lisa
had a little something up her sleeve that was going to make sure she
won this time.
If only Merethe did her part, then nothing could go wrong. But
where was she? Why hadn’t she arrived with Lisa’s package yet? It
had been quite an unusual request. Lisa knew that it was a lot to ask
of her campaign manager, but she didn’t think it was too much. After
all, the dear campaign manager hadn’t exactly delivered the results
Lisa was paying her for, had she? No, Lisa didn’t think it was too
much to ask, but she had still made sure to make Merethe
understand that she meant business. She had taken a picture of
Merethe’s son standing in front of his preschool, then told her that
she would poke his eyes out with a needle if she didn’t do as Lisa
told her to.
Sometimes it was just too easy.
A few people had already gathered in front of the stage. Lisa had
a feeling a lot more would come this time around. She had asked
Merethe to stand in front of the local supermarket and hand out fliers
announcing the debate before she went to get Lisa’s package. Lisa
looked into her purse and saw the gun. She had bought it many
years ago from someone selling it out of his truck. It wasn’t
registered anywhere, and no one knew it belonged to her. She knew
it would come in handy one day. She had just never known it would
be like this.
“I’m back!” Merethe was panting. Her face was so pale, her teeth
dirty, Lisa thought, and cleaned her own with her tongue to make
sure none of this morning’s romaine lettuce and kale smoothie was
stuck between her teeth.
“Did you get what I wanted?” Lisa asked.
Merethe nodded. How did her hair manage to always get so
greasy? Lisa frowned. People were just so…so unsanitary.
“Good. And she’s out there in the crowd?” Lisa asked.
“The package is delivered, the eagle has landed,” Merethe said,
trying to sound clever. “I found her walking up from the beach. I did
as you told me and paid her five hundred kroners to come to the
debate.”
“Good. Money always talks. Now, take my purse and go out and
do your job. Don’t let me down,” Lisa said, and pulled out a needle
from her pocket and poked it in the air towards Merethe to show her
what would happen to her son if she didn’t do as she was told.
Merethe whined and grabbed the purse. Lisa burst into loud laughter
when she saw the look on Merethe’s face. It was just too funny.
Lisa cleared her throat just as her opponent Jonna Frederiksen
showed up. She looked older than last time. She was smiling widely
as she approached Lisa.
 “So you wanted a rematch, huh?” she asked.
Lisa chuckled. “Not that I need it, old lady, but yes. I have asked
to be heard once again. This time, you won’t know what hit you. This
time, I will win.”
The old lady laughed. Lisa imagined grabbing her around the
neck and just strangling her right there. She fought the urge.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Jonna Frederiksen said. “Good luck.”
“Oh, I don’t need it.”
70
 NOVEMBER 2014

“
TIhey’re having another debate downtown.”
looked at Sophia. We had been all over town looking for
Christoffer and Jonna Frederiksen when we found a small notice on
the ground telling about the debate. I looked at my watch.
“It’s about to start. We have two minutes.”
Sophia followed me as I ran up Main Street towards the square. I
was panting heavily, and realized I was in worse shape than I had
thought. I had called Morten and Allan while in the car and told them
to look for Christoffer as well. I was so afraid of what he might do. It
would simply ruin his life.
“We gotta hurry,” I said, gasping for breath.
We ran into the square just as the editor of Fanoe Times took the
stage and started talking to the many people that had arrived. I was
quite surprised at how many had shown up for this event, even
though it was a last minute thing.
Morten came running towards us, waving his arms. “They’re
starting now,” he yelled.
“I know,” I said.
All three of us hurried towards the stage and stood in the back
while the editor in chief presented the two candidates. Everybody
clapped when he said their names, and seconds later, Lisa
Rasmussen and Jonna Frederiksen stepped out. Lisa was waving
like she had already won the entire election. She was smiling like the
picture on her posters and moving her arms like she thought
everybody had come just for her.
I spotted Officer Allan joining the crowd as well, then glanced
around me to see if I could spot Christoffer anywhere, or if I could
see anyone wearing a Slender Man costume.
“Any news?” Officer Allan asked when he approached us.
On stage, Jonna Frederiksen had started her speech. A few
people in front of me shushed us.
“I can’t see him anywhere,” I said.
“You really think that little kid is capable of killing someone?”
Allan whispered.
“I didn’t until I read all the online chats. This guy is very good. He
knows how to push the right buttons on these kids.”
“So, you believe the others were killed by the teenagers? Each
one a different killer?” Allan asked.
“Yes. And all the victims knew each other. They were all in the car
that hit Per Larsen.”
Allan looked surprised. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”
“I read it in a letter from Helle Larsen to my grandmother. After
the accident, Per Larsen’s life was completely ruined.”
“Yeah, well I saw him. He’s in bad shape,” Allan said.
“He wasn’t until the car hit him,” I continued, while Jonna
Frederiksen made some excellent points on stage and people
started clapping. I looked at Lisa Rasmussen. She looked completely
unmoved. She was still smiling like she had won the whole thing.
“I see,” Allan said. “So we might be looking at a revenge-motive
here?”
“It appears so. It’s a little too coincidental that three of the four in
that car are now dead, and we know that someone has persuaded
Christoffer to kill the last.”
“I see what you mean,” Allan said. “But who the heck is telling
these kids to do these things? Who is this Slender Man?”
“That’s the big question,” I said. “It can’t be Per Larsen. Maybe
his parents? Whatever happened to his mother and father?”
“They’re both dead. Ulrik Larsen’s daughter told me they died ten
years ago. She said that only Peter Larsen was left. Apparently, she
knew nothing about Per Larsen’s existence.”
 “Could she have done it?” I asked.
Jonna Frederiksen was done with her speech and the crowd
started clapping. I spotted Dr. Sonnichsen. She was standing very
close to the stage. I pulled Allan’s arm and pointed. He nodded to let
me know he had seen her. I smiled. This time, she couldn’t get away.
“I’ll grab her as soon as the debate is over,” Officer Allan said,
just as Lisa Rasmussen took the stage.
71
 NOVEMBER 2014

S he thought she had found the best hiding place in the world. The
numerologist knew the ground was burning under her feet, and had
run along the beach thinking she could make it to the ferry before the
police got to her, but when she reached the harbor she saw the
police car parked and two officers checking all the cars that wanted
to leave the island. There was no way she could get over to the other
side right now. She had to hide somewhere on the island till it got
dark, then find a boat or something and try to get to the mainland on
her own. She had thought about many places to hide, when this
strange woman had approached her and asked her to come to the
debate and said she would even pay her five hundred kroner to do
so. It suited the numerologist perfectly, since she would be able to
hide for a little while in the crowd, and she really needed the cash.
Cash was untraceable, and with five hundred kroners, she could get
to Germany. They would never find her there. The numerologist
wondered about the numbers. They hadn’t been in her favor this
morning. She had known something would go wrong. She had never
imagined that it would go this wrong, though. It annoyed her
immensely that her plan had backfired. All because of that stupid
dog. She really wasn’t happy about having to leave the island
without having finished what she came here to do. But it was too
dangerous for her to stay. She really wanted to kill Emma Frost, but
she didn’t want to be caught doing so. She didn’t want to spend the
rest of her life in jail. It would be better to come back in a few months
and finish it. It would be more of a surprise that way. At least she had
managed to make her suffer. That would do for now.
The strange woman who had given her the money was standing
next to her and was now cheering wildly as the second candidate
took the stage. The numerologist laughed when she saw this Lisa
Rasmussen take the microphone. She was smiling so strangely and
so confidently, which was so odd, since no one seemed to like her or
clap for anything she said. But the numerologist didn’t care. All she
wanted was a cover right now, as the police were looking for her
everywhere.
The woman next to her smiled oddly at her, and the numerologist
felt a strange sensation in her body. She didn’t like the aura
surrounding this woman or Lisa Rasmussen. There was an energy
field surrounding those two that was off. Something was up with
them, and it wasn’t nice.
The woman grabbed her purse and pulled something out, then
handed it to the numerologist. The numerologist looked down at
what she had in her hand. It was covered in a napkin.
“Here,” she said, and pushed it at the numerologist. “Take it.”
“I’m not taking that,” the numerologist said, looking down at the
gun that the woman tried to push at her.
“Take it!” the woman said.
“No, I won’t!” the numerologist yelled so loudly that Lisa
Rasmussen stopped talking on the stage.
“Is something wrong down there?” she said.
It happened so fast that the numerologist had no idea how it
happened. Suddenly, the woman yelled:
“Gun, she’s got a gun!”
The woman then pressed the gun into the numerologist’s hand
and, while both their hands were on it, she fired the gun at Lisa
Rasmussen, who fell backwards with a loud scream.
“Help! It’s an assassination attempt! Help!”
Then, the woman let go of the gun and it fell to the numerologist’s
feet. She then threw herself at the numerologist as the crowd
scattered and people started screaming. Seconds later, Officer Allan
was on top of her, holding her down, while the numerologist yelled:
“I’m innocent. I didn’t do it!”
 But the many people yelling and screaming as they fled the
scene drowned her screams out.
72
 NOVEMBER 2014

Iassassinate
couldn’t believe what had happened. Dr. Sonnichsen had tried to
Lisa Rasmussen? How strange was that? I had no idea
she was after her as well. Why? As I drove back to the house with
Sophia and Morten, I wondered what she was up to, and if she had
just simply completely lost it. Lisa Rasmussen had been hit in the
shoulder and was being taken to the hospital, while an officer had
escorted Jonna Frederiksen away to keep her safe.
“We still haven’t found Christoffer,” Sophia said. “I have no idea
where he is or what he’s up to. I feel so bad for him, Emma, I really
do. He must be so lonely.”
I drove onto our street, and as I came closer to my house, I
spotted someone sitting under the big oak tree on the lawn. Victor
and Brutus were sitting next to him.
Sophia gasped. “Christoffer!”
I hardly managed to park the car before she jumped out and ran
towards him. Morten and I both followed her and watched as she
threw herself at him. Christoffer was crying and hiding his face
between his hands. Victor and Brutus just sat next to him in silence.
“My God, Christoffer, are you alright? Have you done anything?
Have you, kid? Have you done it?”
Christoffer shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“Sorry for what, kid? Did you do it? You didn’t kill her, did you?”
Sophia asked.
 Christoffer opened his backpack and pulled out the costume.
Sophia looked confused. Christoffer shook his head. “I couldn’t do it,
Mom. I thought about it all day and rode around on my bike with the
costume in my backpack, but I knew I couldn’t do anything like this.
There was no way. I’m such a failure, Mom.”
“Oh, my God, no, son. You’re not a failure. You have no idea how
smart you are. I knew you would know better. I just knew you would.”
Sophia wouldn’t let go of him. She hugged him and held him close.
Then, she slapped him gently on the hair. “But don’t ever scare me
like this again. You hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. It was just…well the other kids in the game did
it. They all bragged about how they had done it, and I was the only
one who hadn’t…I wanted so badly to be more like them. I wanted to
be one of them. They kept encouraging me to do it, and told me how
fantastic it was.”
Sophia slapped him again. It wasn’t hard. “Don’t ever strive to be
part of a group that does things you don’t want to. And no more
computers for you for a long time, young man. You hear me?”
Sophia grabbed Christoffer around the shoulder and they walked
home. I looked at Victor and Brutus, who were both staring at the
ground. They were just so alike, those two, it was almost scary. But
Brutus had certainly proved himself worthy as a member of our little
family.
“Let’s go inside,” I said.
Victor, Brutus, and Morten all followed me, and I made hot
chocolate for all of us, even though it was dangerously close to
dinnertime. “What about Jytte? I asked Morten. “Weren’t you
supposed to cook for her?”
Morten nodded. “Yeah, but she decided she would rather hang
out with her new best friend Amalie from her school. She’s
supposedly the biggest thing since sliced bread around here. So, I
guess you’re stuck with me again tonight.”
I chuckled. “I guess I can’t complain about that.”
I made a wonderful dinner, and we had a nice evening together,
even though Maya was still pretty angry with me. I didn’t care much.
I just enjoyed knowing that Dr. Sonnichsen was behind bars and was
going to stay there for a long time. It had been awhile since I had last
felt this relaxed. Only one thing still bothered me. Even though we
knew about the teenagers and what they had done, and I had told
Allan to investigate it, we still didn’t know who the mastermind
behind it all was. We still had no idea who this Slender Man really
was. Would we ever know? Or was it going to remain one of those
mysteries that was never solved?
73
 NOVEMBER 2014

W e slept in the next morning, since it was Saturday. I enjoyed

reading the morning paper that was all about the assassination
attempt on Lisa Rasmussen. Suddenly, it seemed that all the
sympathy had turned, and now everyone was talking about how
heroic Lisa Rasmussen was, and she was compared to big leaders
in the world who had also had assassination attempts against them.
It was very strange how the mood could turn like this. Furthermore,
Jonna Frederiksen had decided to pull out of the race.
“Politic is too dangerous,” she was quoted as saying. “Life is too
short.”
“I guess Lisa Rasmussen will end up being our new mayor then,”
I said to Morten, while sipping my coffee.
He was still smiling after this morning’s wonderful sex. My body
might be twenty pounds on the heavy side, but I still had it.
“I guess so,” he said.
Sophia came over a little later, carrying her son’s computer in her
arms. “Here, take this,” she said. “I don’t want it in my house
anymore.”
I looked at Morten. “I can’t have a computer in my house. Not
while the investigation is still going on,” I said.
Morten shrugged. “It’s not the best of ideas.”
I looked at the laptop. It was a very nice laptop, and I really
missed having a computer. I still had all of my stuff on the card in the
hollow chess-piece. I could work on my book and get it finished.
 “Maybe I can just keep it somewhere they won’t find it.”
“Suit yourself, Emma,” Morten said. “But I think it’s a bad idea.”
I grabbed the computer from Sophia’s hands, and she left to be
with her children. I put it on the table and turned it on.
“You’re crazy for doing this,” Morten said.
I shushed him and he rolled his eyes before he continued reading
his paper. I went to the bathroom, and when I returned, Victor was
sitting by the laptop. His fingers were dancing across the keyboard
while Brutus was watching from the floor. I watched Victor. It had
been awhile since I had last seen him this engaged in something.
Could it really be that he was so good with computers? It gave me
hope for his future. I knew when Victor was interested in something,
he would typically learn everything there was to know about it. Like
with his trees and the rocks he gathered. He could end up being
quite the computer genius if he wanted to.
A computer genius, huh? Even if he’s considered challenged in
so many other areas? Who would have known? Hm. What if…
“I wonder,” I said to Morten.
“Hm? What’s that?”
“We need to go,” I said. “I’ll tell Maya to look after Vic.”
Morten protested. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
A few minutes later, we were in the car. I was driving. I had found
Per’s home online and set the GPS.
“So, why are we going to this home again?” Morten asked tiredly.
“There’s something I need to check,” I said.
“The guy is heavily retarded. I really don’t want to spend my
Saturday looking at some guy drooling on himself.”
“Morten, that’s not a nice thing to say. You don’t have to look if
you don’t want to,” I said, and turned onto the small dirt road leading
to the home that was located on what used to be an old farm.
A tall blond nurse greeted us at the door. She gave us a friendly
smile.
“Per Larsen? Well, I’ve never. In all the years I’ve worked here,
no one has ever came to visit him, and now he’s had two visitors in
one week. I know the first was an officer, but still. Are you friends of
the family?”
 “We’re actually related. His mother was my grandmother’s sister.
I just heard of his existence recently,” I said.
“Well, come in. Per’s in his room. He likes his quiet time here
before lunch.”
74
 NOVEMBER 2014

T he tall nurse knocked carefully on the door to Per Larsen’s room,

then opened it. “You do realize he can’t talk, nor understand what
you’re telling him?” she asked before she let us in.
“Yes, we understand,” I said.
“Alright then. Per? You have visitors.”
An old man in a wheelchair looked at us from the corner of the
room. With his hands, he pushed the joystick on the electric
wheelchair to make it move forward.
“So, he doesn’t understand anything at all?” I asked.
Per Larsen stopped the chair. His head was hanging to the side,
and he had trouble looking at us. Drool was running down his chin
and had wet his clothes.
“To be honest, we don’t know how much he understands. He
seems to get some of the things we tell him, yet at other times,
there’s no connection at all. He just got the computer behind him a
few months ago, along with all the rest of the residents at the home,
and he seems to enjoy playing on it. So I guess he does understand
some things. Now I’ll leave you alone. Call me if you need anything.”
The nurse closed the door, and we were alone with Per Larsen,
who was sitting completely still in the chair, looking at us out of the
corner of his eye.
Morten exhaled. “Are you happy? You’ve seen him.”
I kneeled in front of Per Larsen and tried to look into his eyes.
“Hello Per. My name is Emma Frost. I think you can hear me. I think
you can understand and hear me perfectly, can’t you?”
Per Larsen didn’t react. A couple of moaning sounds escaped his
mouth. I glanced around his room, and my eyes fell on the computer
in the corner.
“So, you like computers, do you?” I asked.
“Come on, Emma. Let’s go home. This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Emma,” Morten said, but I didn’t listen. I walked to the computer
and pressed the keyboard. The screen turned on. Minecraft was
open.
“Like to play Minecraft, do we?” I asked and pressed login. I
heard the wheelchair move behind me. Per Larsen turned, and now I
was certain he actually looked at me.
“All this because they hit you with the car?” I asked. I entered the
game and didn’t have to go any farther. His profile was wearing a
skin he had designed himself. Maya used to do the same thing. His
character in the game looked exactly like Slender Man, with the
black suit and tie and the expressionless face.
Per Larsen approached me from behind. Morten came closer too.
“I think you need to call Allan,” I said.
“You really think he’s Slender Man?” Morten asked.
“I not only think it, I know it. And when the police get this
computer and go through it, they’ll know it as well. He used those
kids to get his revenge. They ruined his life back then.”
I kneeled in front of Per Larsen, who groaned loudly. I had a
feeling he was trying to speak. Our eyes locked for a second and I
felt his sorrow, his deep profound sadness.
Morten called Allan, who came to the home with Officer Tim and I
told them everything. They confiscated the computer as part of the
investigation. Morten and I decided to leave it all in their hands and
drove home. On our way back, I spotted someone riding her bike on
the street. I hit the brakes of the car.
“What are you doing?”
“There’s still one person who knows what really happened to Per
Larsen, and who knows why Per wanted this revenge so badly. See,
the way I figure it, everyone thought he was completely lost to the
world. It wasn’t until he got the computer and tried to use it that he
realized he suddenly had a way of communicating with the world for
the first time since he’d been hit by the car at only six years old. He
came up with the idea of using the kids he got to know through
Minecraft. He probably read about Slender Man and about the
teenagers in the States, and came up with the idea of impersonating
this myth that many kids online believe in, the myth of Slender Man.
But what makes you want revenge that badly after so many years?
Certainly not an accident.”
I got out of the car, and as soon as Jonna Frederiksen saw me,
she jumped off the bike.
“We need to talk,” I said.
 EPILOGUE

NOVEMBER 2014

“
WI pointed
hat about that one over there?”
at a golden retriever in the corner. I had always wanted
a golden retriever, since I thought they were the nicest dogs in the
world. But Maya had already set her heart on a small black curly-
haired dog that kept barking at everything and everybody and biting
his friends at the shelter.
“No, I really want this one,” she said.
I sighed. “But it looks just like Kenneth, and it seems to be just as
misbehaved. You really think that’s a good idea?”
“That’s why I like it,” Maya said.
I smiled as I watched Maya pick up the small curly-haired dog. It
was a crossbreed, they told me. Someone had found it in the street
and given it to the shelter, so they had no idea how old it really was
or where it came from. It wore no collar.
“Probably left by some German tourists who couldn’t take care of
it anymore,” the red-haired lady named Camilla said.
“I want him,” Maya said with stars in her eyes. “I’ll call him
Kenneth II.”
“You’re the one responsible for him then,” I said. “You have to
take care of him and feed him and walk him.”
“Of course.”
I looked at the red-haired woman. “We’ve made our choice.”
While Camilla finished the paperwork, and Maya held Kenneth II
in her hands looking happier than ever, I thought about how much
had happened since we had been there last. Luckily, Jonna
Frederiksen had told me everything and repeated it to Officer Allan.
She had explained how Ulrik Larsen had killed the old man on the
farm next to theirs because of what he had done to Peter, and then
about how they wanted to beat Per Larsen up to shut him up, but he
had run into the street and they had hit him with the car. I got a
feeling it felt good for her to finally be able to tell the story and get it
off her chest.
Lisa Rasmussen won the election, since she had no opponent,
and she promised on the local TV to make sure there would be no
lay-offs at the police station, since we needed every one of the
officers we had here on the island. She was very grateful for their
service, especially since they had saved her life during the
assassination attempt. I was very pleased that she would fight for my
boyfriend’s job.
Morten had gotten his job back. Since he had helped solve the
three murders, the chief of police in Esbjerg called him in and told
him the charges against him were dropped after they had seen the
footage of Dr. Sonnichsen admitting to having framed him with the
email, and later by paying someone to beat up Michael. I was also
acquitted of my charges, since they couldn’t find any evidence
against me, since my computer had been destroyed. PE wasn’t too
happy about dropping the charges, but they had no choice, my
lawyer told me. I just had to be more careful in the future, I had to
promise her.
The three teenagers were convicted of murder and sentenced to
juvenile prison, all three of them obtaining psychiatric help for their
problems. Christoffer escaped with nothing worse than the fright.
They had examined Per Larsen’s computer and found lots of
material, enough to take him to trial, even though it would be hard to
put him in a prison worse than the one he was already in. At least he
would never be let near a computer again, Morten had told me.
The charges against Dr. Sonnichsen were major, and still piling
up, as far as I knew. Morten did most of the investigating, and I knew
it was quite extensive. I was certain she was going away for a very
long time. Finally, that story was over. She was out of my life, and my
family and I could move on. Tonight, I was taking Morten folk dancing
downtown.
“All you need to do is sign right here,” Camilla said, and pointed
at the dotted line. I glanced at Maya right before I put the pen to the
paper, then signed my name.
“There you go,” Camilla said. “The dog is yours. Good luck.”

The End

Want to know what happens next? Get the next novel in the
Emma Frost Mystery series here:
http://www.amazon.com/Where the Wild Roses Grow
 AFTERWORD

D ear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing Slenderman. I hope you enjoyed it. The
idea for this story actually appeared when I heard that back in the
sixties and even seventies, many Danish parents of autistic children
were told that they should simply forget about their children while
they were put in a home. The doctors told the parents to pretend the
child had died and go have another one. Many autistic people in
Denmark have therefore grown up in homes and never known their
families or where they came from. I later read an article about a man
who became autistic after being hit by a car, and that gave me the
idea for what happened to Per.
Don’t forget to check out my other books if you haven’t already
read them. Just follow the links below. And don’t forget to leave
reviews, if you can.

Take care,
Willow
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 Copyright Willow Rose 2014
Published by Jan Sigetty Boeje
All Rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or

electronic form without permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or

dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.
Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Cover design by Jan Sigetty Boeje

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sigettys Cover Design

Special thanks to my editor Janell Parque

http://janellparque.blogspot.com

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sign up below to be on the VIP List. (I promise not to share your email with
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Connect with Willow Rose:

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willowredrose

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 BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

CLICK THE LINK TO GRAB YOUR COPY TODAY

M /H N :

What Hurts the Most (7 S C #1)

You Can Run (7 S C #2)
You Can’t Hide (7 S C #3)

Hit the Road Jack (J R #1)

Slip Out the Back Jack (J R #2)
The House that Jack Built (J R #3)
Black Jack (J R #4)

One, Two...He is Coming for You (R F #1)

Three, Four...Better Lock your Door (R F #2)
Five, Six...Grab Your Crucifix (R F #3)
Seven, Eight...Gonna Stay up Late (R F #4)
Nine, Ten…Never Sleep Again (R F #5)
Eleven, Twelve...Dig and Delve (R F #6)
Thirteen, Fourteen...Little Boy Unseen (R F #7)

Edwina

To Hell in a Hand Basket

Itsy, Bitsy Spider (E F #1)
Miss Polly had a Dolly (E F #2)
Run, Run, as Fast as You Can (E F #3)
Cross your Heart and Hope to Die (E F #4)
Peek-A-Boo I See You (E F #5)
Tweedledum and Tweedledee (E F #6)
Easy as One, Two, Three (E F #7)
There's No Place like Home (E F #8)
Slenderman (E F #9)
Where the Wild Roses Grow (E F #10)

H S S :

Eenie, Meenie
Rock-A-Bye Baby
Nibble, Nibble, Crunch
Humpty, Dumpty
Chain Letter

P R /S /F N :

Beyond (A #1)
Serenity (A #2)
Endurance (A #3)
Courageous (A #4)

Savage (D J #1)
Broken (D J #2)
Song for a Gypsy (E C B -T W C )
I am WOLF (T W C )

B S :

Jack Ryder Mystery Series Box Set: Vol 1-3

Rebekka Franck Series: Vol 1-3
Rebekka Franck Series: Vol 4-6
Rebekka Franck Series: Vol 1-5
Emma Frost Mystery Series: Vol 1-3
Emma Frost Mystery Series: Vol 4-6
Emma Frost Mystery Series: Vol 7-9
Emma Frost Mystery Series: Vol 1-5
Daughters of the Jaguar Box Set
The Afterlife Series: Books 1-3
Horror Stories from Denmark
The Wolfboy Chronicles: Vol 1-2
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The Queen of Scream novels, Willow Rose, is an

international best-selling author. She writes
Mystery/Suspense/Horror, Paranormal Romance and
Fantasy. She is inspired by authors like James
Patterson, Agatha Christie, Stephen King, Anne Rice,
and Isabel Allende. She lives on Florida's Space
Coast with her husband and two daughters. 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 a million
books.

Connect with Willow online:

@madamwillowrose
willowredrose

willow-rose.net
madamewillowrose@gmail.com
 WHAT HURTS THE MOST

EXCERPT

For a special sneak peak of Willow Rose's Bestselling Mystery Novel

What Hurts the Most (7 S C #1) turn to the next page.
 PROLOGUE

COCOA BEACH 1995

T hey’re not going to let her go. She knows they won’t. Holly is
terrified as she runs through the park. The sound of the waves is
behind her. A once so calming sound now brings utter terror to her.
She is wet. Her shirt is dripping, her shoes making a slobbering
sound as she runs across the parking lot towards the playground.
Run, run! Don’t look back. Don’t stop or they’ll get you!
She can hear their voices behind her. It’s hard to run when your
feet are tied together. They’re faster than she is, even though they
are just walking.
“Oh, Holly,” one of them yells. “Hoooollllyyy!”
Holly pants, trying to push herself forward. She wants
desperately to move faster, but the rope tied around her feet blocks
them and she falls flat on her face onto the asphalt. Holly screams
loudly as her nose scratches across the ground.
Get up! Get up and run. You can’t let them get you.
She can hear them laughing behind her.
You can make it, Holly. Just get to A1A right in front of you. Only
about a hundred feet left. There are cars on the road. They’ll see
you. Someone will see you and help you.
She tries to scream, but she has no air in her lungs. She is
exhausted from swimming with her legs tied together. Luckily, her
arms got free when she jumped in the water. They have pulled off
her pants. Cut them open with a knife and pulled them off. Before
they stabbed her in the shoulder. It hurts when she runs. Blood has
soaked her white shirt. She is naked from the stomach down, except
for her shoes and socks. Holly is in so much pain and can hardly
move. Yet, she fights to get closer to the road.
A car drives by. Then another one. She can see them in the
distance, yet her vision is getting foggier. She can’t lose
consciousness now.
You’ve got to keep fighting. You’ve got to get out of here! Don’t
give up, Holly. Whatever you do, just don’t give up.
Their footsteps are approaching from behind. Holly is groaning
and fighting to get a few more steps in.
So close now. So close.
“Hurry up,” she hears them yell. “She’s getting away!”
Holly is so close now she can smell the cars’ exhaust. All she
needs to do is get onto the road, then stop a car. That’s all she
needs to do to get out of there alive. And she is so close now.
“Stop her, goddammit,” a voice yells.
Holly fights to run. She moves her feet faster than she feels is
humanly possible. She is getting there. She is getting there. She can
hear them start to run now. They are yelling to each other.
“Shoot her, dammit.”
Holly gasps, thinking about the spear gun. She’s the one who
taught them how to shoot it. She knows they won’t hesitate to use it
to stop her. She knows how they think. She knows this is what they
do. She knows this is a kick for them, a drug.
She knows, because she is one of them.
“Stop the bitch!” someone yells, and she hears the sound of the
gun going off. She knows this sound so well, having been
spearfishing all her life and practiced using the gun on land with her
father. He taught her everything about spearfishing, starting when
she was no more than four years old. He even taught her to hold her
breath underwater for a very long time.
“Scuba diving is for tourists. Real fishers free dive,” she hears his
voice say, the second the spear whistles through the air.
It hits Holly in the leg and she tumbles to the ground. Holly falls to
the pavement next to A1A with a scream. She hears giggles and
voices behind her. But she can also hear something else. While she
drags herself across the pavement, she can hear the sound of
sirens.
“Shit!” the voices behind her say.
“We gotta get out of here.”
“RUN!”
 CHAPTER ONE

SEPTEMBER 2015

B lake Mills is enjoying his coffee at Starbucks. He enjoys it

especially today. He is sipping it while looking at his own painting
that they have just put up on display inside the shop. He has been
trying to convince the owner of the local Starbucks in Cocoa Beach
for ages to put up some of his art on display, and finally Ray agreed
to let him hang up one of his turtle paintings. Just for a short period,
to see how it goes.
It is Blake’s personal favorite painting and he hopes it will attract
some business his way. As a small artist in a small town, it is hard to
make a living, even though Blake offers paintings by order, so
anyone can get one any way they want it and can be sure it will fit
their house or condo. It isn’t exactly the way the life of an artist is
supposed to be, but it is the only way to do it if he wants to eat.
Blake decides to make it a day of celebration and buys an extra
coffee and a piece of cake to eat as well. He takes a bite and enjoys
the taste.
“Looking good,” a voice says behind him. He turns in his chair
and looks into the eyes of Olivia.
Olivia Hartman. The love of his life.
Blake smiles to himself. “You came,” he whispers and looks
around. Being married, Olivia has to be careful whom she is seen
with in this town.
“Can I sit?” she asks, holding her own coffee in her hand.
 Blake pulls out a chair for her and she sits next to him. Blake
feels a big thrill run through his body. He loves being with Olivia and
has never had the pleasure of doing so in public. They usually meet
up at his studio and have sex between his paintings on the floor or
up against the wall. He has never been to her place on Patrick Air
Force Base, where she lives with her husband, a general in the
army. Blake is terrified of him and a little of her as well, but that is
part of what makes it so wonderfully exciting. At the age of twenty-
three, Blake isn’t ready to settle down with anyone, and he isn’t sure
he is ever going to be. It isn’t his style. He likes the carefree life, and
being an artist he can’t exactly provide for a family anyway. Having
children will only force him to forget his dreams and get a real job. It
would no doubt please his father, but Blake doesn’t want a real job.
He doesn’t want the house on the water or the two to three children.
He isn’t cut out for it, and his many girlfriends in the past never
understood that. All of them thought they could change him, that they
were the one who could make him realize that he wanted it all. But
he really didn’t. And he still doesn’t.
“It looks really great,” Olivia says and sips her coffee. She is
wearing multiple finger rings and bracelets, as always. She is
delicate, yet strong. Used to be a fighter pilot in the army. Blake
thought that was so cool. Today, she no longer works, not since she
married the general.
She and Blake had met at the Officer’s Club across the street
from the base. He was there with a girl he had met at Grills in Cape
Canaveral, who worked on base doing some contracting or
something boring like that; she had invited him to a party. It was by
far the most boring affair until he met Olivia on the porch standing
with a beer in her hand overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. She was
slightly tipsy and they exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes
before she turned and looked at him with that mischievous smile of
hers. Then she asked him if he wanted to have some fun.
“Always,” he replied.
They walked to the beach and into the dunes, where they
enjoyed the best sex of Blake’s life.
Now it has become a drug to him. He needs his fix. He needs
her.
 “Congrats,” she says.
“Thanks. Now I just hope someone will grab one of the business
cards I’ve put on the counter and call me to order a painting. I could
use the money. I only had one order last month.”
“They will,” she says, laughing. “Don’t you worry about that.” She
leans over and whispers through those pouty lips of hers. “Now let’s
go back to your place and celebrate.”
“Is that an order?” he asks, laughing.
“Is that an order, ma’am,” she corrects him. “And, yes, it is.”
 CHAPTER TWO

SEPTEMBER 2015

B eing with Olivia is exhilarating. It fills him with the most wonderful
sensation in his body because Blake has never met anyone like her,
who can make him crazy for her. Not like this. But at the same time,
it is also absolutely petrifying because she is married to General
Hartman, who will have Blake killed if he ever finds out. There is no
doubt about it in Blake’s mind.
Yet, he keeps sleeping with her. Even though he keeps telling
himself it is a bad idea, that he has to stop, that it is only a matter of
time before he will get himself in some deep shit trouble. Blake
knows it is bad to be with her. He knows it will get him in trouble
eventually, but still, he can’t help himself. He has to have her. He has
to taste her again and again. No matter the cost.
Their lips meet inside Blake’s studio as soon as they walk in.
Blake closes his eyes and drinks from her. He doesn’t care that the
door behind him is left open. Nothing else matters right now.
“I thought you couldn’t get out today,” he says, panting, when her
lips leave his. “Isn’t the general on base?”
“He is,” she mumbles between more kisses.
It has been two weeks since they were together last. Two weeks
of constantly dreaming and longing for her. They communicate via
Snapchat. It is untraceable, as far as Blake knows. Blake wrote a
message to her a few days ago, telling her about the painting being
put up in Starbucks, knowing that she probably couldn’t come and
see it. He even sent a picture of the painting. It is also her favorite.
She messaged him back a photo of her sad face telling him she
didn’t think she could get out, since her husband was home. Usually,
she only dares to meet with Blake when her husband is travelling.
Even then, they have to be extremely careful. General Hartman has
many friends in Cocoa Beach and his soldiers are seen everywhere.
“I told him I was seeing a friend today. It’s not like it’s a lie. I don’t
care anymore if he finds out about us. I’m sick of being just the
general’s wife. I want a life of my own.”
Blake takes off his T-shirt and her hands land on his chest. He
rips off her shirt and several buttons fall to the floor. She closes her
eyes and moans at his touches. His hands cup her breasts and soon
her bra lands on the wooden floor. He grabs her hair and pulls her
head back while kissing her neck. His heart is pumping in his chest
just from the smell of her skin.
“You can’t,” he whispers between breaths. “You can’t let him
know about us. He’ll kill the both of us.”
Olivia lets out a gasp as Blake reaches up under her skirt and
places a hand in her panties, and then rips them off. He pushes her
up against a table, then lifts her up, leans over her naked torso and
puts his mouth to her breasts. He closes his eyes and takes in her
smell, drinking the juices of her body, then pulls his shorts down and
gently slides inside of her with a deep moan. She puts her legs
around his neck, partly strangling him when she comes in pulsing
movements back and forth, her body arching.
“Oh, Blake…oh, Blake …”
The sensation is burning inside of him and he is ready to
explode. Olivia is moaning and moving rapidly. His movements are
urgent now, the intensity building. He is about to burst, when
suddenly she screams loudly and pushes him away. Blake falls to
the floor with a thud.
“What the…?”
Blake soon realizes why Olivia is screaming and feels the blood
rush from his face. A set of eyes is staring down at him.
The eyes of Detective Chris Fisher.
“Blake Mills, you’re under arrest,” the voice belonging to the eyes
says.
 CHAPTER THREE

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
I ’mI stare
sorry, Mary, there’s nothing I can do.”
at my boss, Chief Editor, Markus Fergusson. He is leaning
back in his leather chair in his office on the twenty-eighth floor of the
Times-Tower on the west side of mid-town. Behind him, the view is
spectacular, but I hardly notice anymore. After five years working
there, you simply stop being baffled. However, I am actually baffled
at this moment. But not because of the view. Because of what is
being said.
“So, you’re firing me, is that it?” I ask, while my blood is boiling in
my veins. What the hell is this?
“We’re letting you go, yes.”
“You can’t do that, Markus, come on. Just because of this?”
He leans over his desk and gives me that look that I have come
to know so well in my five years as a reporter for The New York
Times.
“Yes.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “I’m being fired for writing the paper’s most
read article in the past five years?”
Markus sighs. “Don’t put up a fight, will you? Just accept it. You
violated the rules, sweetheart.”
Don’t you sweetheart me, you pig!
“I don’t make the rules, Mary. The big guys upstairs make the
decisions and it says here that we have to let you go for violating the
normal editing process.”
 I squint my eyes. I can’t believe this. “I did what?”
“You printed the story without having a second set of eyes on it
first. The article offended some people, and, well…”
He pauses. I scoff. He is such a sell-out. Just because my article
didn’t sit well with some people, some influential people, he is letting
me go? They want to fire me for some rule bullshit?
“Brian saw it,” I say. “He read it and approved it.”
“The rules say two editors,” he says. “On a story like this, this
controversial, you need two editors to approve it, not just one.”
“That’s BS and you know it, goddammit, Markus. I never even
heard about this rule. What about Brian?”
“We’re letting him go as well.”
“You can’t do that! The man just had another kid.”
Markus shrugs. “That’s not really my problem, is it? Brian knew
better. He’s been with us for fifteen years.”
“It was late, Markus. We had less than five minutes to deadline.
There was no time to get another approval. If we’d waited for another
editor, the story wouldn’t have run, and you wouldn’t have sold a
record number of newspapers that day. The article went viral online.
All over the world. Everyone was talking about it. And this is how you
thank me?”
I rise from the chair and grab my leather jacket. “Well, suit
yourself. It’s your loss. I don’t need you or this paper.”
I leave, slamming the door, but it doesn’t make me feel as good
as I thought it would. I pack my things in that little brown box that
they always do in the movies and grab it under my arm before I
leave in the elevator. On the bottom floor, I hand in my ID card to the
guard in the lobby and Johnson looks at me with his mouth turned
downwards.
“We’ll miss you, Miss Mary,” he says.
“I’ll miss you too, Johnson,” I say, and walk out the glass doors,
into the streets of New York without a clue as to what I am going to
do. Living in Manhattan isn’t cheap. Living in Manhattan with a nine-
year old son, as a single mom isn’t cheap at all. The cost for a
private school alone is over the roof.
I whistle for a cab, and before I finally get one, it starts to rain,
and I get soaked. I have him drive me back to my apartment and I let
myself inside. Snowflake, my white Goldendoodle is waiting on the
other side of the door, jumping me when I enter. He licks me in my
face and whimpers from having missed me since I left just this
morning. I sit down on my knees and pet him till he calms down. I
can’t help smiling when I am with him. I can’t feel sad for long when
he’s around. It’s simply not possible. He looks at me with those deep
brown eyes.
“We’ll be alright, won’t we, Snowflake? I’m sure we will. We don’t
need them, no we don’t.”
 CHAPTER FOUR

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
DLizo you come here often?”
Hester stares at the man who has approached her in the bar
at Lou’s Blues in Indialantic. It is Friday night and she was bored at
the base, so she and her friends decided to go out and get a beer.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
The guy smiles. He is a surfer-type with long greasy hair under
his cap, a nice tan, and not too much between the ears. The kind of
guy who opens each sentence with dude, even when speaking to a
girl.
“It was the best I could come up with.”
“You do realize that I am thirty-eight and you’re at least fifteen
years younger, right?”
Kim comes up behind her. She is wearing her blue ASU—army
service uniform—like Liz. They are both decorated with several
medals. Liz’s includes the Purple Heart, given to her when she was
shot during her service in Afghanistan. Took a bullet straight to her
shoulder. The best part was, she took it for one of her friends. She
took it for Britney, who is also with them this night, hanging out with
some guy further down the bar. They are friends through thick and
thin. Will lay down their lives for one another.
Liz’s eyes meet those of Jamie’s across the bar. She smiles and
nods in the direction of the guy that Liz is talking to. Liz smiles and
nods too. There is no need for them to speak; they know what she is
saying.
 He’s the one.
“So, tell me, what’s your name?” Liz asks the guy. She is all of a
sudden flirtatious, smiling and touching his arm gently. Kim giggles
behind her, but the guy doesn’t notice.
“I’m Billy. My friends call me Billy the Kid.”
“Well, you are just a kid, aren’t you?” she says, purring like a cat,
leaning in over the bar.
The guy lifts his cap a little, then puts it back on. “You sure are a
lot of woman.”
Liz knows his type. He is one of those who gets aroused just by
looking at a woman in uniform. She has met her share of those
types. They are a lot of fun to play with.
“Well, maybe I can make a man of you,” she whispers, leaning
very close to his face.
The guy laughs goofily. “You sure can,” he says and gives her an
elevator look. “I sure wouldn’t mind that. I got an anaconda in my
pants you can ride if you like.”
Liz laughs lightly, and then looks at Jamie again, letting her know
he has taken the bait.
“Well, why don’t you—Billy the Kid—meet me outside in the
parking lot in say—five minutes?”
Billy laughs again. “Dude! Whoa, sure!”
Billy taps the bar counter twice, not knowing exactly what to do
with himself, then lifts his cap once again and wipes sweat off his
forehead. He has nice eyes, Liz thinks, and he is quite handsome.
As stupid as they get, though.
He leaves her, shooting a finger-gun at her and winking at the
same time. The girls approach Liz, moving like cats sliding across
the floor. Liz finishes her drink while the four of them stick their
heads together.
“Ready for some fun?” she asks.
They don’t say anything. They don’t have to.
 CHAPTER FIVE

SEPTEMBER 2015

S he waits for him by the car. Smoking a cigarette, she leans

against it, blowing out smoke when she spots him come out of the
bar and walk towards her. Seeing the goofy grin on his face makes
her smile even wider.
“Hey there, baby,” Billy says and walks up to her. “I have to say, I
wasn’t sure you would even be here. A nice lady like you with a guy
like me? You’re a wild cat, aren’t you?”
Liz chuckles and blows smoke in his face. “I sure am.”
Billy the Kid moves his body in anticipation. His crotch can’t keep
still. He is already hard.
What a sucker.
He looks around with a sniffle. “So, where do you want to go? To
the beach? Or do you…wanna do it right here…?” he places a hand
next to her on the car. “Up against this baby, huh?”
Liz laughs again, then leans closer to him till her mouth is on his
ear. “You’re just full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“What?” he asks with another goofy grin.
“Did you really think you were going to get lucky with me? With
this?” She says and points up and down her body.
The grin is wiped off his face. Finally.
“What is this?” he asks, his face in a frown. “Were you just
leading me on? What a cunt!” He spits out the last word. He probably
means it as an insult, but Liz just smiles from ear to ear as her
friends slowly approach from all sides, surrounding Billy. When he
realizes, he tries to back out, but walks into Jamie and steps on her
black shoes.
“Hey, those are brand new! Dammit!”
Jamie pushes him in the back forcefully and he is now in the
hands of Britney. Britney is smaller than the others, but by far the
strongest. She clenches her fist and slams it into his face. The blow
breaks his nose on the spot and he falls backwards to the asphalt,
blood running from it.
“What the…what…who are you?” Billy asks, disoriented, looking
from woman to woman.
“We like to call ourselves the Fast and the Furious,” Liz says.
“Yeah, cause I’m fast,” Kim says and kicks Billy in the crotch. He
lets out a loud moan in pain.
The sound is almost arousing to Liz.
“And I’m furious,” she says, grabbing him by the hair and pulling
his head back. She looks him in the eyes. She loves watching them
squirm, the little suckers. Just like she loved it back in Afghan when
she interrogated the Haji.
Haji is the name they call anyone of Arab decent, or even of a
brownish skin tone. She remembers vividly the first time they brought
one in. It was the day after she had lost a good friend to an IED, a
roadside bomb that detonated and killed everyone in the truck in
front of her. They searched for those suckers all night, and finally, the
next morning they brought in three. Boy, she kicked that sucker till he
could no longer move. Hell, they all did it. All of them let out their
frustrations. Losing three good soldiers like that made them furious.
Liz was still furious. Well, to be frank, she has been furious all of her
life.
Everybody around her knows that.
Liz laughs when she hears Billy’s whimper, then uses two fingers
to poke his eyes forcefully. Billy screams.
“My eyes, my eyes!”
Liz lets go of his hair and looks at her girls. They are all about to
burst in anticipation. She opens the door to the car, where Jamie has
placed a couple of bottles of vodka to keep them going all night. She
lets out a loud howl like a wolf, the girls chiming in, then lifts Billy the
Kid up and throws him in the back of the Jeep.
 CHAPTER SIX

FEBRUARY 1977

W hen Penelope and Peter get married, she is already showing. It

is no longer a secret to the people at the wedding, even though her
mother does all she can to disguise it by buying a big dress. By the
time of the wedding, Penelope has grown into it and her stomach fills
it out completely. Peter’s mother tells her she looks radiant and
gorgeous, but Penelope’s own mother hates the fact that people will
talk about the marriage as a necessity, or the right thing to do, and
their daughter as only getting married because she is pregnant.
Because she has to.
But that is just the way it is, and no one cares less about what
people think than Penelope and Peter. They are happy and looking
forward to becoming parents more than anything.
Soon after the wedding, the bank approves a loan for them and
they buy their dream house in Cocoa Beach. As a young lawyer who
has just been made partner, Peter is doing well, and even though it
is one of the most expensive locations in Cocoa Beach, Penelope
doesn’t have to work anymore. She quits her job as a secretary and
wants to focus on her family and later charity work. It is the kind of
life they have both dreamed of, and no one is more thrilled to see it
come true than Penelope.
“I can’t wait to become a family,” she says, when Peter is done
fixing up the nursery and shows it to her.
Seeing how beautiful he has decorated it makes her cry, and she
holds a hand to her ready-to-burst stomach. Only two more weeks till
she will hold her baby. Only two more weeks.
She can hardly wait.
Peter is going to be a wonderful father; she just knows he will. He
has such a kind and gentle personality. She has done right in
choosing him. She knows she has. This is going to be a perfect little
family. Penelope already knows she wants lots of children. At least
two, maximum four. She herself comes from a family of four children.
Four girls, to be exact. There was a brother, but he died at an early
age after a long illness. Being the oldest, Penelope took care of him,
and it was devastating for her when he passed away. It is a sorrow
she can never get rid of, and often she blames herself for not being
able to cure him. Later in life, she played with the idea of becoming a
doctor, but she never had the grades for it.
Peter, on the other hand, is an only child. His mother has spoiled
his socks off all of his life. She still does every now and then. And
she still treats him like a child sometimes. It makes Penelope laugh
out loud when she spit-washes him or corrects his tie. But she is
nice, Peter’s mom. She has always loved Penelope, and there is
nothing bad to be said about her.
It was always the plan that Peter would follow in his father’s
footsteps and go to law school, and so he did. He met Penelope right
after he passed the bar and started working at the small law firm in
Rockledge where she was a secretary. Soon he moved on to a
bigger firm and now he had made partner.
Peter’s career exploded within a few years, and now he is talking
about going into real estate as well. He has so many plans for their
future, and she knows he will always take care of them. She is never
going to want for anything.
Two weeks later, her water breaks. Penelope is standing in the
kitchen admiring the new tiles they have put in, with a coffee cup in
her hand. The water soaks her dress and the floor beneath her.
Penelope gasps and reaches for the phone. She calls Peter at the
office.
“This is it,” she says, with a mixture of excitement and fright in her
voice. “Our baby is coming, Peter. Our baby is coming!”
“I…I’ll be right there.”
 Peter stumbles over himself on his way out of the office and the
secretary has to yell at him to come back because he has forgotten
his car keys.
Peter rushes her to the hospital, where the contractions soon
take over and after a tough struggle and fourteen hours of labor, she
is finally holding her baby girl in her arms.
“Look at her, Peter,” she says through tears. “I…I simply can’t
stop looking at her. I am so happy, Peter. You made me so happy,
thank you. Thank you so much.”
 CHAPTER SEVEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

Icurry,
spend the evening feeling sorry for myself. I cook chicken in green
my favorite dish these days, and sulk in front of the TV
watching back-to-back episodes of Friends with Snowflake and my
son Salter next to me.
“They can’t fire you!” Salter exclaimed, when I told him as soon
as he got home from school. He knew something was wrong as soon
as he saw that I’d made hot cocoa for the both of us and put
marshmallows in it.
That is kind of my thing. Whenever I have bad news, I prepare
hot cocoa with marshmallows. I have also baked cookies. That is
another diversion of mine. Nothing keeps me as distracted as baking
or cooking.
“You’re the best damn reporter they have!”
“I am, but there’s no need to curse,” I say.
I enjoy spending the rest of the evening with the loves of my life,
both of them, and decide to not wonder about my future until the next
day. Salter is so loving and caring towards me and keeps asking me
if there is anything he can do for me, to make me feel better.
“Just stay here in my arms,” I say and pull him closer.
He has reached the age where he still enjoys my affectionate
hugs and holding him close, but lately he has begun to find them
annoying from time to time, especially when it is in front of his
friends.
 I named him Salter because I have been a surfer all of my life,
growing up in Cocoa Beach, and so is his dad. Salter means derived
from salt. We believed he was born of our love for the ocean. How
foolish and young we were back then.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
“So, what do we do now?” Salter finally asks when the episode
where Phoebe fights with a fire alarm is over.
I take in a deep breath. I know he has to wonder. I do too, but I
try not to think about it. Mostly to make sure he isn’t affected by it.
“I mean, now that you don’t have a job?” he continues. “Can we
still live in this apartment?”
“I have to be honest with you, kiddo,” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t
know what is going to happen. I am not sure any newspaper will
have me after this. I pissed off some pretty influential people.”
“That’s stupid,” he says. “They’re all stupid. Your article had more
views than anyone’s.”
“I know, but that isn’t always enough, buddy.”
I sigh, hoping I don’t have to go into details, when suddenly my
phone rings. I let go of Salter and lean over to pick it up from the
coffee table. My heart drops when I see the name on the display.
It’s my dad.
“It’s Mary,” I say, my heart throbbing in my throat. I haven’t
spoken to my dad in at least a year. He never calls me.
“Mary.” His voice is heavy. Something is definitely going on.
“What’s wrong, Dad? Are you sick?”
“No. It’s not me. It’s your brother.”
I swallow hard. My brother is the only family member I still have
regular contact with. I love the little bastard, even if he is fifteen
years younger than me.
“Blake? What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s bad, Mary. He’s been arrested.”
Arrested?!?
“What? Why…for what…what’s going on, Dad?”
My father sighs from the other end of the line. “For murder. He’s
been arrested for murder.”
 CHAPTER EIGHT

SEPTEMBER 2015

T hey take him for a ride. Billy the Kid is crying in the back when the
girls take him first to the Super Wal-Mart in Merritt Island that is open
24/7. Placing a knife to his back, they walk through the store and pull
bottles of wine, gin, and tequila from the shelves. They even find a
fishing pole that they think could be fun to buy. Along with some
chips Jamie wants, and sugarcoated donuts. Kim has a craving for
cheesecake while Britney wants chocolate. And loads of it. Liz holds
the knife in Billy’s back and asks them to throw in some Choco-mint
ice cream for her. Then she grabs a bottle of drain cleaner. They tell
Billy to take out his wallet and pay for everything.
“If you as much as whimper, I will split you open,” Liz whispers,
as they come closer to the cashier. “I’ll make it look like you attacked
me. Who do you think they’ll believe, huh? A surfer dude or a
decorated war-veteran? A female one on top of it.”
After he pays, they open a bottle of gin and take turns drinking
from it while they drive, screaming and cheering, back to Cocoa
Beach where they park in front of Ron Jon’s surf-shop, which is also
open 24/7. Yelling and visibly intoxicated, they storm inside with Billy
and take the elevator to the second floor. They run through the aisles
of bikinis and pull down one after another.
“I always wanted yellow one,” Kim yells.
“I’m going red this time,” Britney says. “Wouldn’t this look cute on
me?”
 “Grab me one of the striped ones over there,” Liz says. “Size
medium.”
Kim giggles cheerfully then grabs one. They don’t bother to try
them on. There is no time for that. Kim also grabs a couple of nice
shirts from Billabong, and then some shorts from Roxy for Liz.
“Oh,” Britney says and points at the surfboards on the other side
of the store. She looks to the others. “I always wanted a surfboard!”
“Me too,” Jamie exclaims. “Let’s find one!”
“I…I can’t afford that,” Billy whimpers. “Aren’t they like four
hundred dollars?”
“This one is five hundred dollars,” Jamie says, and looks at a
seven-foot fun-shape. “Doesn’t it look GREAT on me?”
“Adorable,” Liz says and laughs.
“I can’t afford this,” Billy whimpers over and over when they pull
the boards out.
“Grab one for me too,” Liz says, ignoring his complaints. She
presses the knife into his back, puts her arm around his neck, then
kisses his cheek, making it look like they are a couple.
“You’ll have to,” she whispers. “I’ll make a scene. Make it look like
you tried to rape me.”
“Okay, okay,” he says with a moan. “Just don’t hurt me, okay?
Just let me go after this, alright?”
She doesn’t make any promises. That’s not how Liz rolls.
They charge everything to one of Billy’s credit cards, then run out
of the store carrying surfboards and plastic bags with bikinis,
hollering and laughing. They throw everything in the car and strap
the boards onto the roof before driving to the International Palms
Resort a few blocks further down A1A, where they book a suite for
all of them, charging it on his credit card again.
“Please don’t make me pay for any more,” he says in the
elevator.
They ignore his complaints, and then storm into the room. It is
huge and has great views of the ocean. Liz lets go of Billy, then
throws him on the white couch. Jamie grabs one of the bottles of
Vodka and places it to her lips. She drinks it like it is water. Liz
laughs and pulls the bottle from Jamie’s hand. She places it to her
lips and closes her eyes while it burns its way down her throat.
 “Hey, leave some for the rest of us,” Kim yells, and grabs the
bottle out of Liz’s hand.
The vodka spills on Liz’s white shirt. Liz looks angrily at Kim.
“What the hell…?”
Kim laughs, then drinks from the bottle. Liz clenches her fist
before she slams it into Kim’s face as soon as she lets go of the
bottle again. Kim falls backwards, then stares, confused, at Liz.
“What…what happened?” she asks.
Liz grabs the bottle out of her hand forcefully. Jamie and Britney
remain quiet. They dare not make a sound. The feeling of power
intoxicates Liz. Liz looks at Billy the Kid, who is squirming on the
couch while staring at them with terror in his eyes.
Liz approaches him. He squirms again. Liz leans over and kisses
him forcefully. He tries to push her away, but two of the other girls
grab his arms and hold him down while Liz has her way with him.
She pulls off his pants and then she laughs.
“Is that all? Is that the anaconda you wanted me to ride?”
“Please, just let me go,” Billy says, crying in humiliation “I’ve done
everything you wanted me to. I’ve paid for everything. Please, just let
me go.”
“Now he wants to leave. You finally have the chance to get laid
and now you want to leave? No no, Billy, tsk tsk. That’s not what a
woman wants to hear, is it, girls?”
The three others shake their heads.
Liz puts her hand on his penis and starts to rub. Soon, his
anaconda grows sizably and he starts moaning.
“Please…please…”
She puts her lips on it and makes him hard, then sits on top of
him and rides him. The other girls are screaming with joy. Liz rides
him forcefully, and soon they both come with deep moans.
Liz smiles when Billy arches in spasms and she feels his semen
inside of her, then leans over and kisses his forehead.
“If you tell the police what we did tonight, I’ll tell them you raped
me,” she whispers. “That you were holding a gun to my head and
you raped me. Boy, I do believe I even have three witnesses. Three
VERY reliable witnesses.”
 Liz finishes with a laugh, then climbs off Billy. “Come on girls,”
she says. “Let’s get really drunk.”
She grabs a bottle and drinks from it. It is strange how it feels like
she can’t get drunk anymore. Not like really drunk. Not like in the old
days. Liz likes being really drunk. It makes her forget. It is the only
thing that can make her forget.
The girls throw themselves at the chips and candy they bought at
Wal-Mart. Liz looks at them with contempt. They have no self-
control, these girls. Kim buries her hands in the cheesecake and
eats it, licking her fingers. Jamie stuffs her face with donuts and has
sugar all over her mouth.
Liz sighs.
“You want some ice cream?” Jamie asks.
“I don’t want some stupid ice cream,” Liz says, mocking Jamie.
“I’m bored.” She looks at Billy, who doesn’t dare to move on the
couch. “He bores me.”
“What do you want to do?” Kim asks.
“Yeah, do you want to have another go?” Jamie asks.
Liz throws the bottle in her hand against the wall. It breaks and
leaves a huge mark that Billy is probably going to pay for. Liz growls
and kicks the ice cream bucket.
“I’m sick of the prick. He’s no fun to play with.”
Liz grabs the drain cleaner and walks towards Billy with firm
steps. The girls all look at her. Serious eyes follow her every step.
The atmosphere in the room immediately changes. No one is
laughing anymore. No one is eating.
“What are you doing with that, babe?” Jamie asks.
“Don’t do it,” Kim yells.
But Liz doesn’t listen. She opens the lid and grabs Billy’s jaw.
She forces it open. Billy is squirming too much and she can’t do it on
her own.
“Help me, dammit,” she yells.
The girls hesitate, but don’t dare not to do as they’re told. Who
knows what Liz might do next? Who will be next? They have seen
too much to be able to say no.
Britney is first to grab Billy’s right arm and hold it down. Jamie
then grabs the left one. Kim holds his head still, while Liz pours the
liquid drain cleaner into his mouth and down his throat. The three
girls stare at her while she empties the bottle completely. They dare
not even to speak. Billy’s screams pierce through their bones. No
one dares to move.
Liz throws the empty bottle on the ground, then looks at her
friends. “Let’s get out of here,” she yells.
Her words are almost drowned out by Billy’s scream.
 CHAPTER NINE

SEPTEMBER 2015

ISnowflake
land at Orlando airport around noon the next day. Salter and
are both with me. We have packed two big suitcases, not
knowing how long we are going to stay. My dad tried to convince me
there is no need for me to come down, but I didn’t listen. I need to be
there. I need to help my brother.
“What about my school?” Salter says, as we walk to the rental
car.
“I called them and told them it’s a family emergency,” I say. “They
told me you have to be back in ten days or your spot goes to
someone else. They mean business, that school.”
It is one of the best schools in New York and one of the most
expensive ones too. I haven’t decided if I like it or not. The uniforms I
can do without, but that kind of comes with the territory. It is mostly
the way they shape them into small soldiers there, always running all
these tests, making them stand straight, and never having time to
play. It is all Salter knows, so to him, it is fine. But there is something
about the school that I don’t like. I find it hard to enjoy that my child is
going to a school like this. Joey and I are both surfers and free
spirits. This school is not us at all. Yet, we signed Salter up for it as
soon as we moved to New York.
We moved because of my job, but unfortunately it turned out to
be the end of our little family. Joey had nothing to do up there, since
no one would hire him, and soon we grew apart. Staying at home
and not having anything to do wore on him. He never felt like he
accomplished anything or that he was supporting his family, and that
is important to him. He started to feel lonely and sought comfort in
the arms of a young girl who worked at a small coffee house on our
street. He would go there every day to drink his coffee and write. He
wants to be an author and has written several books, but no
publisher will touch them. I think they are beautiful and inspiring, but
I guess I am biased. I love Joey. I still do. But when he told me he
had slept with the girl at the coffee house several times a week for at
least a year, I threw him out. Well, not right away. First, I gave him a
second chance and we tried to make it work for a couple of weeks,
for Salter’s sake, but I couldn’t stand thinking about it all day,
whether he’d been with her again. It tore me apart. I have never
been a jealous person, but this I couldn’t handle. I tried hard to, but
realized I wasn’t as forgiving as I thought I could be. I didn’t have it in
me and I felt like I could never trust him again. So, I finally asked him
to move out.
“Where do you want me to go?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Go live with that coffee house girl. I don’t know.”
He decided to go back to Cocoa Beach where we grew up
together. That was four months ago now. I miss him every day. But I
can’t forget what he did. What hurts the most is the betrayal, the
deceit. I don’t know how to move past it. I don’t know if I ever can.
He calls as often as he can and talks to Salter. It’s been hard on
our son. He loves his dad and needs him in his life, needs a male
role model. Salter went to visit him during summer break, and it is
the plan that he will be going down for Thanksgiving as well.
“You think I can call Dad now?” Salter asks, as soon as we are in
the car and hit the beach line.
I sigh. It is such a big blow to Salter that his dad moved this far
away. I know he is excited to see him again. I hate to see that look in
his eyes. He doesn’t know his dad cheated on me. He only knows
that he left, and that is enough. I know he feels guilt and questions if
he had something to do with it. I try to tell him it wasn’t because of
him, that sometimes grown-ups grow apart, that they can’t make it
work anymore. I am not sure he is convinced.
“Sure,” I say.
 Salter smiles and grabs my phone and finds his dad’s number.
While driving towards the beach and listening to him talk to his
father, I feel a chill go through my body. I watch the big signs for Ron
Jon’s surf shop go by and realize my hands are shivering. Everything
about this place gives me the creeps. I haven’t been back in almost
twenty years. Not since I left for college.
Blake was three years old back then. Joey and I have lived all
over since. He worked with whatever he could get his hands on,
mostly as a carpenter. I spent five years working for CNN in Atlanta,
which became my biggest career jump. Before that I held a position
with USA Today in Virginia. I started my career as a journalist at
Miami Herald and we lived for a while in Ft. Lauderdale before my
job took us out of the state, something I had dreamed of as long as I
could remember. To get away.
Salter puts the phone down.
“So, what did he have to say?” I ask, as we approach the bridges
that will take us to the Barrier Islands. In the distance, I can see the
cruise ships. A sign tells me I can go on a casino cruise for free.
Gosh, how I hate this place…with all its tourists and tiki bars.
“He can’t wait to see me,” Salter says.
I turn onto A1A, where all the condominiums and hotels are lined
up like pearls on a string.
“At least you’ll have fun seeing your dad,” I say, while wondering
what is waiting for me once I arrive at my childhood home. What is it
going to be like to see my dad again? What about Blake? I haven’t
seen him in several years. He visited me in New York five years ago,
but other than that, we have mainly spoken over the phone or on
Facebook. We aren’t very close, but he is still the only one in my
family I like. He is all the family I have, and I will do anything to help
him out.
Anything.
 CHAPTER TEN

APRIL 1977

P enelope and Peter take the baby home to their new house a few
days after the birth. In the months to follow, they try everything they
can to become a family. But the sleep deprivation is hard on them.
Especially on Penelope. She gets up four or sometimes five times a
night to breastfeed, and all day long she feels sick from the lack of
sleep.
Only a few weeks after the baby arrived Peter gets a new case. It
is a big deal, he explains to Penelope, one of those cases that can
make or break a career. And Peter is determined to make it.
But that means long days at the office, and Penelope is soon
alone for many hours at the house. Sometimes, he even stays away
the entire night just to work, and when he finally comes home, he is
too worn out to even speak to his wife.
Penelope, on the other hand, longs to speak with an adult and
can hardly stop talking to him and asking him questions.
“How was your day? What’s the latest on the case? Do you think
you’ll be done in time?”
Peter answers with a growl and tries to avoid her. As soon as he
comes home, he storms to the restroom and stays in there for at
least an hour, reading a magazine or the newspaper just to get a
little peace and quiet.
The first weeks, Penelope waits outside the door and attacks him
with more questions or demands as soon as he pokes his head out
again.
 “The garage door is acting up again. Could you fix it or call
someone who could? We need to start thinking about preschool. I’ve
looked over a few of them, but I need your help to choose the right
one. What do you think? I was thinking about painting the living room
another color. A light blue, maybe?”
One day he comes home at nine in the evening after a very
stressful day and all he dreams of is throwing himself on the couch,
putting his feet up, and reading the newspaper, enjoying a nice quiet
evening. When he enters the house, Penelope comes down from
upstairs holding the baby in her arms with a deep sigh. The look in
her eyes is of complete desperation.
“Where have you been?”
He sighs and closes the front door behind him. He doesn’t have
the energy to explain to her what’s been going on at the office.
“A long story,” he says, and puts his briefcase down.
The baby wails. Penelope looks at her with concern. “No. No. Not
again. Please don’t start again.” She looks at Peter. “She’s been like
this all day, Peter. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anymore. I
just really, really need time…just an hour of sleep. I’m so tired.”
Peter looks at her. Is she kidding him?
“We’re both tired,” he says.
“No. No. It’s more than that, Peter. She’s driving me nuts. It’s like
torture. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t…”
“Could you shut up for just one second?”
Penelope stares at her husband. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have ANY idea what kind of day I’ve had? Do you have
ANY idea what I am going through these days? I think you can
manage a little crying baby, all right? I would give anything to be in
your shoes and not have to deal with this case.”
Peter snorts, then walks past her into the living room, where he
closes the door. Penelope has a lump in her throat. She feels so
helpless. So alone and so so incredibly tired. She looks at the baby,
who is still crying.
“Why are you crying little baby, huh? Why are you crying so
much?”
She puts her lips on the baby’s forehead to kiss her, but the kiss
makes her realize something. Something she should have noticed a
long time ago. The baby isn’t just fussing.
She is burning up with a fever.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

Ithedrive into the driveway at 701 S Atlantic Avenue and park in front of
garage. I turn off the engine with a deep sigh. Everything looks
the same from the outside. Same brown garage doors, even though
the painting needs to be redone, same lawn in front and same old
palm tree, even though it is a lot taller. The bushes to the right have
been removed and new flowers have been planted. I know nothing
about plants or flowers, but these are orange and look stunning.
“How come we have never visited granddad before?” my son
asks.
I look at him. I knew the question had to come at some point. But
I am not ready to provide the answer.
“Let’s go in,” I say.
We grab our suitcases and drag them across the bricks towards
the entrance to my dad’s beach house, my childhood home. I can
smell the ocean from the behind the house. I close my eyes and
breathe it in. So many memories, good and bad, are combined with
this smell. I love the ocean. I still do. Joey and I both love it and
spent so many hours surfing together while growing up.
But there is also all the bad stuff. The stuff I haven’t talked about
since I left town for college at age eighteen. The stuff I had hoped I
never would have to talk about again. Ever.
Just before we reach the front door, I turn my head and look
down at 7th Street behind me, on the other side of Atlantic Avenue or
A1A as we call it. 7th street continues all the way down to the
Intracoastal Waters, or Banana River, and in most of those houses
had lived kids. I had known all of them. We used to be a tight bunch
of seven children. All of us went to Roosevelt Elementary and later
Cocoa Beach High School. We used to bicycle to school together
and after school we would rush back to check out the surf from the
crosswalk on 7th, then grab our boards if the waves were good and
surf for hours. We used to call ourselves The 7th Street Crew. I was
the rich kid among them, with the biggest house on the ocean with a
pool and guesthouse. But I was never the happiest.
“Mary!”
The face in the doorway belongs to my dad’s girlfriend, Laura.
We don’t like her. She came into our lives two years before I left
home, so I had the privilege of living with her for two very long years
before I could finally leave.
“Hi, Laura,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Oh…and you brought a dog. How wonderful,” she says, staring
at Snowflake like he is a vicious monster. Snowflake is anything but
that. He is the gentlest dog in the universe, and the fluffiest. He loves
children and will run up to anyone simply because he loves people
so much. He is white as snow, but has the brownest, deepest puppy-
eyes in the world. He is also my best friend in the whole world. He is
no guard dog, though. That he cannot do.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “He doesn’t shed. He has poodle in him and
they don’t shed. He doesn’t drool either or bark. He won’t be any
trouble.”
“Well isn’t that…nice.” Laura speaks through tightened lips. I
know she is going to hate having him here, but I couldn’t just leave
him in the apartment back home. She will have to live with it.
“And this must be Salter,” she says with a gasp. “My gosh, how
much you look like your granddad.”
“Speaking of…where is the old man?” I ask, feeling
uncomfortable already.
“He’s in his study. Come in. Come in.” Laura makes room for us
to enter. Salter goes first.
“Whoa!” he exclaims. “This house is huge.” He looks at me like
he expects me to have told him about this sooner.
“I put you two in one of the rooms upstairs,” Laura says.
 “I think we could fit our entire apartment just in this hallway,”
Salter continues. “Don’t you think, Mom?”
“Probably. Now let’s get our suitcases to our room, Salter, and
then find your granddad.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she says. “He hasn’t really been
himself since…well since Blake…you know.”
“He got arrested, Laura. You can say the words. It’s not like it’s a
secret.”
“I just didn’t want to…in front of the b-o-y.”
“He’s nine, Laura. He knows how to spell boy. Besides, he knows
everything. He can take it.”
Laura looks at me like I have no idea how to be a parent. She
herself has two daughters of her own that had already moved out
when she met my dad. They are a little older than me. I met them
once at a Thanksgiving dinner right after Laura moved into our
house, and that was no success. Since then, I have passed on all
invitations to Thanksgiving and Christmas. After a few years, I think
they got the message and stopped asking if we would join them.
“Let me show you to your room.” Laura goes ahead of me up the
stairs. I am surprised that she hasn’t placed me in the guesthouse in
the back to keep me out of the house as much as possible, like she
did when I was a teenager. As soon as she moved in, I was asked to
move to the guesthouse in the back. She wanted to turn my old room
into a gym. Back then, I didn’t understand why she didn’t just chose
one of the six other bedrooms in the house, but today I do. She
wanted me out and maybe my dad did too. I wasn’t exactly an easy
teenager. I had a lot of anger built up and was constantly taking it out
on him. I blamed him for everything that happened with my mother.
I still do.
 CHAPTER TWELVE

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
MSandra slams the
!”
door as she runs inside with Lucky, her brown
Chihuahua. Her husband Ryan is sitting by the computer. Usually,
they will go out surfing on a day like today where they are both off for
once at the same time, but the waves simply aren’t good enough. At
least not for her.
“I just saw her when I passed her dad’s house on my run with
Lucky,” she says, and takes the leash off the dog. “She parked the
car in the driveway.”
“And, who is Mary again?” Ryan asks, without looking up from
the computer.
A boat passes on the river outside their windows. Ryan wants to
go boating later today, but Sandra isn’t really in the mood for it. It is
so rare she has a Saturday off like this and is home to enjoy it.
Usually, she is in California, New York, or Milan. For the first time in
years, she has the entire week off and doesn’t have to be anywhere
until next Monday, when she is going to Germany for a shoot. If they
go on the boat, Ryan will take his friend Phillip with them, and then
she will feel all left out once they start talking fishing stuff. Still, she
wants to be with her husband on this beautiful day.
“Mary is the girl who used to live in the big house at the end of 7th
Street. The one on the ocean. She must have come home because
of what happened to Blake. I don’t think I have seen her in…what is
it? Twenty years? Oh, my gosh I’m getting old.”
 Ryan’s eyes leave the screen and he grabs Sandra around the
waist and kisses her stomach. “You still look fine to me, babe.”
“Are you ever sad that we never had any children?” she asks.
Ryan pauses. “Not really. I never thought much about it. I mean,
you’re busy with all your modeling and I have my construction
business. You travel way too much to have children, and I could
never ask you to stop your career. Not as long as you’re doing so
well for yourself.”
“Yeah, but still. My career won’t last forever, you know. I might still
look great now at thirty-eight, but in a few years, the calls are going
to stop coming. I can already feel them slowing down.”
“Doesn’t Heidi Klum still work? And she’s older than you, right?”
“Well, I’m hardly a Heidi Klum.”
“Well then, Claudia Schiffer and what’s the name of that other
one? The one with the mole…”
“Cindy Crawford.”
“That’s right. I see her everywhere on TV.”
“She has this whole furniture business going. It’s different with
her.”
“No, it’s not. You could do that. Or something else just as cool.
The world is your oyster, baby.”
Sandra kisses her husband gently, even though she is sweaty
and nasty from her run in the heat.
“Plus, you still make more money in a month than most do in a
year,” Ryan continues. “I say, you work as long as it’s still fun, and
then we see what happens. If you want children, we’ll have children.”
Sandra laughs. “Except I might be too old to have them. The
clock is ticking. I can’t have children forever.”
“Then we’ll adopt.” He grabs her waist again and pulls her onto
his lap. “As long as my baby is happy.”
“You’re sweet,” she says and kisses him again.
“Now, go grab a shower. You’re sweating on me,” he says with a
grin. “And you’re hurting me. You’re heavy.”
Sandra pushes him lovingly, then jumps down. She has gained a
little weight lately, which is a big no-go for a woman in her position.
She has already got a few lines around her eyes that the magazines
Photoshop out, if she is getting chubby as well, it will be the end of it.
 “You should go talk to her,” Ryan yells after her as she enters the
bathroom.
Sandra peeks out. “Who?”
“That Mary person. Catch up on old times.”
Sandra’s heart drops. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I don’t
think she would want to see me.”
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

Ihallway
have my heart in my throat as I walk the long walk through the
downstairs to my dad’s study. Laura has told my dad I have
arrived and tells me I can just walk in. I don’t feel good being in the
house again. The walls seem to be closing in on me. I can hear my
mother’s voice calling for me and imagine myself running down the
stairs, my mother telling me not to run on the stairs, afraid I will slip
and fall.
Once again, I feel a shiver run through my body at the thought of
her.
Why mom. Why?
I knock on the door to my dad’s study and wait for his response.
There he is. My old man. Sitting in one of the leather chairs in the
room that I as a child was only allowed into when I had to be
scolded. He looks tired and old.
My dad looks up at me. If he is happy to see me, he hides it well.
“Mary,” he says.
“This is Salter,” I say, and urge my son forward. I feel bad using
my son as an icebreaker, but what can you do?
Finally, my dad smiles. “So, this is Salter, huh? Come here boy
and give your granddad a hug.”
Salter looks up at me, as if he is asking for my permission. I nod
him along. “Go ahead.”
Salter hugs my dad a little reluctantly. My dad closes his eyes
and holds him for a little while, then grabs him by his shoulders.
 “Let me look at you, boy. Hm. You have your mother’s eyes and
your father’s nose.”
“I’ve been told that I look at lot like you,” Salter says.
My dad bursts into laughter that soon turns into a cough. My dad
has been a smoker all of his adult life. It is a miracle he is still alive at
the age of seventy-five. I know Laura doesn’t let him smoke inside,
but I also know that won’t stop him.
“Well, they’re right,” he says. “And that’s not such a bad thing.”
Salter laughs. My dad coughs badly again and lets go of Salter’s
shoulders. The boy comes back to me and grabs my hand in his. He
looks up at me with worried eyes.
“Is he sick?” he asks.
“I’m just old, boy,” my dad says between coughs.
Salter chuckles. My dad catches his breath then looks at me
seriously. “You didn’t have to come. There really was no need for it.”
“Salter,” I say, addressed to my son. “Why don’t you go upstairs
and find your iPad. Granddad and I need to talk for a little while.
Grownup stuff.”
“He doesn’t need an iPad,” my dad intervenes. “He’s a kid. Let
him run down to the beach or go in the pool. He needs some fresh
air. And some sun. Look at those pale cheeks.”
“Can I, Mom? Can I go in the pool?”
“He’s not a very strong swimmer,” I say. “Someone needs to
watch him.”
“A boy of his age? That’s ridiculous,” my dad says. “Kids around
here swim like fish in the ocean by the time they’re two. You used to
live your life more under the water than above it.”
“This is Florida, Dad. It’s different. There’s water everywhere.
Plus, it’s warm all year around. Where we come from, kids don’t go
swimming every day like we did.”
“No, they go on iPads,” my dad says.
I sigh deeply. I am already regretting coming here.
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

W e compromise. Salter is allowed to take the iPad to the beach

and sit in one of my dad’s chairs and play a game until I am done. I
promise I will take him swimming in the ocean when I am done
talking to my dad. I am dying to get out in the waves myself anyway.
That is the one thing I have missed about this town. The one thing I
am sad that Salter doesn’t have in his life growing up.
“So, what’s the deal, Dad?” I ask, when Salter has left. “What’s
going on with Blake?”
“They arrested him at his place yesterday,” my dad says. “They’re
charging him with murder.”
“Murder? Blake?” I laugh mockingly at the idea. It’s ridiculous.
“Blake is many things. He is lazy, he is…well, he’s never done a
day’s work in his life…”
“He’s a spoiled brat,” my dad interrupts me. “You can say it the
way it is.”
“But, a murderer? That he is not.”
I look at my dad. It is scary how much we look alike. I see it every
time I look in my mirror. Every day, I am reminded of where I have
come from, even though I try so hard to forget.
“I’m guessing you have put your army of lawyers on the case?” I
ask. “Has bail been set?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s a hearing today. But
there is no way a judge will give him bail for murder.”
“But…but we’ve got to get him out of there,” I say.
 “I got him a good lawyer; that’s all I can do. But the charges are
severe. He risks prison for life. They have an eye witness that claims
to have seen Blake kill the woman.”
“What?”
My dad draws in a deep sigh. This entire affair is wearing on him.
Blake has always been his favorite; there is no doubt about it. He is
sort of his second chance to make things better, but it hurts him that
he has turned out to be the way he is.
“They claim he met the two girls in a bar and brought them back
to his studio, where he had some kind of weird sex game with them
and stabbed the one to death while the other managed to escape.
They found a bloody stone-carving chisel in his studio when
searching it after his arrest.”
“A chisel? Stone carving? But Blake is a painter. He doesn’t use
chisels,” I say, confused.
“Well, he’s been experimenting a lot lately with his work. He’s
been doing everything from coffee tables to decorative water-
fountains to cutting tiki bars for people’s yards. He had to expand a
little if he wanted to make money, you know. I couldn’t keep
supporting him. Laura wouldn’t have it.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Just like she never wanted me in their life
either.
“Well, we have to help him the best we can,” I say. “I mean, you
do believe in his innocence, right?”
My dad hesitates just long enough for me to know. He doesn’t. It
makes me furious. I try to hold it back.
“You’re kidding me. This is your son. It’s Blake. He’s a good kid,
Dad. Confused, yes. Spoiled, yes. Lazy, heck yes. But no killer, and
you know it. Deep down, you know it. Don’t tell me you believe he
could have done this.”
“I still have a hope that he didn’t do it, but Laura feels differently.
She believes he got himself into the mess and that he doesn’t
deserve our help. She’s got a point, you know. I can’t keep cleaning
up his messes.”
I freeze. “You’re not going to pay for his lawyer, are you? You’re
going to let him take care of it himself, even though he has no
money? Just because of her?”
 “It’s his mess, Mary.”
I stare at my old man sitting in his chair. He is even more pathetic
than I remember him. I can’t believe a man like him, with the esteem
he has in this community, with all the power he has, that he can be
such a wimp. My dad is among the most influential people in Brevard
County. If he says jump, they all do, simultaneously. But when it
comes to making decisions concerning his own family, he is such a
coward. It is one of the things that make me loathe being his
daughter.
“All right,” I say and walk to the door. “I’ll take care of it. Like
always, I’ll take care of everything.”
“You’re wasting your time.” My dad stops me as I am about to
leave. “Oh, and about that dog of yours. Try to keep it in your room,
would you? Laura isn’t much of a dog person.”
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

B lake feels sick to his stomach when they come for him. The
hearing ended less than an hour ago and he has been put back in
his cell. He is shaken. Constantly on the verge of crying. But he tries
to hold it back, tries to be tough. A guy like him has no place in jail.
He isn’t going to last a week.
Blake looked for Olivia during the hearing, but didn’t see her. He
saw his older sister Mary and their eyes met briefly while his lawyer
pleaded with the judge for bail. As expected, he didn’t get it.
It made him feel a little comforted to see his sister’s face in the
crowd. He doesn’t know her very well, but they write messages on
Facebook and sometimes talk on the phone. She never comes to
visit. But, still, he knows she will always be there for him when he
needs it.
Mary is the closest he will ever come to having a mother.
Growing up with Laura was no party.
They sent him away to a boarding school in Jacksonville for a few
years once he reached school age, but he was caught smoking
weed on the school grounds in seventh grade and sent home. After
that, he lived at the house with them, but tried hard to stay out of
Laura’s way. He believes his dad feels sorry for him, and because he
knows that Laura doesn’t like him, he spoils him with a new car
every year, his own boat, and basically gives him everything he
wants. Either that or he just gives him everything to get him to leave
him alone.
 “You have a visitor,” the prison guard tells him.
Blake feels a sting in his heart. He hopes it is Olivia. He doesn’t
know what they did to her afterwards, after they dragged him away.
He just hopes that he didn’t get her in trouble with the general.
He is taken to a small room where his sister is waiting. Blake
tears up when he sees her again. He is disappointed that it isn’t
Olivia, but at the same time happy that she is here.
“Blake,” she says and stands up when he enters.
He can tell the sight of his orange uniform and chained feet and
hands horrifies her. He sits down.
“It’s good to see you, Mary,” he says with a sniffle. “What has it
been since I was up to visit you? Three years?”
“Five, Blake,” she says with tears in her eyes. “It’s been five
years. How are you?”
He scoffs and answers with sarcasm. “Great!”
“Blake, be serious. How are you holding up in here?”
He looks into her eyes and feels tears pile up. He has tried to act
so tough ever since the arrest, but the reality is that he is devastated.
Completely. It is a nightmare. He doesn’t know what to do. He has
been questioned for hours and hours, and still they keep asking him
the exact same questions. No, he didn’t kill that woman. No, he
doesn’t know who she is. How could he have stabbed her in his
studio if he has never seen her before in his life?
“I’m trying my best,” he says.
“It’s awful,” she says. “I can’t believe anyone would think you
could have killed that woman.”
Blake smiles through his tears. Finally, someone believes in him.
Finally. “Where is Dad?” he asks. “I didn’t see him at the hearing.”
Mary hesitates before she gives him her answer. “It’s just me for
now.”
“He’s not coming, huh?” Blake bites his lip. It is dry and sore.
“Maybe later,” Mary says, but he knows she is lying. “You know
how he is, Blake. Let’s not focus on him. Let’s focus on you. You
have to tell me everything. From the beginning.”
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
TIhere really isn’t much I can tell you,” Blake says.
am trying hard to keep myself collected in the small room with
the guards listening in on our every word. I know if Blake says
anything about the case that he hasn’t mentioned before they can
use it against him. But I have to know more. I have to hear it from his
own lips. I just have to make sure he doesn’t say anything to make it
worse on himself.
I can’t stand watching my younger brother in distress like this. He
is so pale and the look in his eyes so terrified it makes my stomach
turn. I feel so bad for him. Especially since I can tell he is trying to
play the tough guy. Blake isn’t a tough guy. He is a sweet little boy,
an artist. He drinks too much, he parties way too much, and thinks
the world revolves around him, but he could never hurt a fly. I just
know he couldn’t. Prison is going to kill him. He is way too soft and
sensitive. That was his problem at the boarding school my dad sent
him to. My dad wanted to toughen the boy up, but he came back an
even bigger mess than he left. He isn’t cut out for this world and all
it’s harshness.
“I’ve never seen the girl in my life,” he says. “I swear I haven’t.”
“What about her friend? The one that testified against you? Do
you know who she is?”
Blake shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
“Could you have met them while drunk in a bar or something? It’s
no secret you like to go out and drink every now and then.”
 Blake shrugs. “I…I mean, it is possible, but I don’t remember it.
She’s not even my type. I don’t like blondes.”
“Hardly an argument that will stand in court.”
I look into the eyes of my baby brother. He still has the innocence
of youth in them. I always thought he would be one of those people
that simply never grew up, the ones that hustle through life, but
always seem to make it even if they don’t take life as seriously as the
rest of us.
But now I see something else in those eyes of his. Something I
have never seen in them before. He is afraid. He is shaken to his
core.
“I spoke to your lawyer earlier today, and he told me the witness
was capable of describing your body in detail, and could even
remember the mole on the lower part of your back. How could she
know this stuff if you’ve never met her before?”
“I…I…I don’t know, Mary. You have to believe me. I really don’t
know. I didn’t kill this woman. I didn’t.”
“They found the bloody chisel in your kitchen, under the sink,” I
say, quoting the lawyer’s information. “It was thrown into a bucket
like someone had to hide it fast, and then a dishtowel had been
thrown on top of it to cover it. Now, they haven’t matched the blood
on the chisel with hers yet, so that part is still open. Besides, there
was no bloodstain evidence found in your studio, which speaks well
for your case. The state attorney will argue that you could have
cleaned the place up, whereas the defense will try and make the
case that blood always leaves some kind of evidence behind. Even
when the scene has been wiped clean, there are still ways for
forensic investigators to detect washed away blood, like using a
reagent called Luminol, which reacts with iron found in hemoglobin.
And, as far as we know, the forensics haven’t been able to locate
anything, but they’re still working your apartment for evidence, so
we’ll have to see about that.”
“I’m not getting out, am I?” he asks.
“Don’t say that, Blake. We don’t know anything yet.”
Blake is suddenly short of breath. He starts hyperventilating.
“Calm down, Blake. You’ve got to calm down.”
 “I’m going to be one of those cases, one of those that are
convicted of a crime they didn’t commit. Oh, my God, like those you
hear about that are put away for life even though they’re innocent.”
“Not if I have any say in this,” I say.
I have a lump in my throat from watching my baby brother lose it
like this. He is panicking. It is the worst thing he can do in this
situation.
“But, you don’t, do you?” Blake pauses and leans back in his
chair. “It doesn’t matter what we do. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t do
it. They told me I could get a shorter sentence if I pleaded guilty…”
“Don’t you even think about that!”
Blake’s eyes widen. He tries to speak, but is choked up.
“He’s not going to help me, is he?”
“Who?”
“Dad. He’s not coming because he thinks I’m guilty. He’s not
going to pay for that lawyer he sent me, is he?”
I sigh. I have to be honest. “No. He has paid the bills so far, to
make sure you have a chance. But he is not going to pay anymore.”
Blake lets out a sound of despair. “How am I going to pay for it
then? Boy, am I screwed.”
“You will have an attorney appointed to you by the court,” I say,
knowing very well that it is far from the same. Right now, all Blake
needs is the best lawyer money can buy. The same kind that got
O.J. Simpson acquitted.
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

APRIL 1977

P eter turns pale when he feels how warm the baby is.
“We have to get her to the doctor immediately,” he says. “Oh, the
poor thing. No wonder she’s been crying all day.”
He helps Penelope get into the car with the baby and they drive
fast to the emergency room, where a doctor attends to them
immediately. Penelope feels a huge sensation of relief when the
baby is finally in the hands of the doctors and nurses. It is like the
responsibility is no longer hers and she isn’t alone anymore.
Peter has a complete change of attitude towards her and puts his
arm around her. He holds her tight while the doctor takes care of the
baby. Penelope closes her eyes and enjoys his embrace once again.
How badly she has missed it, has missed being close to him, has
missed being his one and only. A tear escapes the corner of her eye
and rolls down her cheek. Peter sees it and wipes it away.
“Shhh, she’ll be alright. Don’t worry. Our baby is in good hands
now. She’s safe here.”
Penelope opens her eyes and looks at him. Yes, her baby is in
good hands now, and so is she. Standing in the waiting room with
her husband’s arms around her again, Penelope feels something
she hasn’t felt since the baby came into their world. She feels safe.
She feels loved.
“Your baby is going to be just fine.” The doctor approaches them
carrying the good news.
 “See, I told you, Penelope,” Peter says joyfully. “So, what is
wrong with her, Doctor?”
“An ear infection. It’s very common at her age. But it can give a
nasty fever if not treated. It’s amazing what that small size can cope
with, right? I mean, a fever this high would kill most adults, but
babies, they have them from time to time and still they’re fine.
Nevertheless, I have prescribed some eardrops for her and
something for her rash as well. She has a little diaper rash, which is
very normal. You can take her home right away if you like.”
“Home?” Penelope asks, concerned. “Wouldn’t it be better if she
stayed the night? For observation? She might get worse.”
“If you treat her with the eardrops, she’ll be fine very soon,” the
doctor says. “Like I said, it’s very common and highly treatable.”
“But, I’m no doctor,” Penelope says.
Peter chuckles. “I think you might be able to handle a few
eardrops, right?”
“It’s not that hard. Just hold her head still, then let the drops land
inside the ear. Three times a day. The infection should be gone in a
few days.”
“But, what if it doesn’t go away?” she asks, feeling very
uncomfortable with having to take the baby home right now when
she is still sick. She doesn’t feel safe alone with her at the house
when she isn’t well. This time, she hadn’t even known that she was
sick. Will she know the next time? Will she be able to make the right
decision? She doesn’t want to be alone with her again.
“Tsk, of course it will go away if the doctor says so,” Peter says.
“It’s nothing serious. Why are you so worried all of a sudden?”
“I…I just don’t feel like…I mean what if I don’t…what if…”
The doctor places a hand on her shoulder. He looks into her
eyes. There is something about him that makes her feel safe.
“It’s only natural to feel insecure as a young mother. It’s a big
responsibility. How about you go home now, and then I’ll call you in
the morning and make sure everything is all right. Let me know if
there is anything, and I do mean anything, that is wrong, and I’ll have
you come in and we’ll look at it. I believe you can do this.”
Peter puts his arm around her waist. Penelope relaxes.
“I’ll be there too, remember? You’re not alone.”
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

Imess
cry in the car on my way back to the beach. I can’t believe what a
my little brother has gotten himself into. I feel so terrible for him
and want to do everything I can to help him. I decide I am going to
use whatever little money I have saved to pay for his lawyer. He
needs the best there is. But I don’t have much to offer, and it won’t
last long. Still, it is a start. I call the lawyer, James Holland, and tell
him to continue his work.
“I’ll go as far as I can for you, Mary,” he says. “Me and your dad
go back many years, but I still can’t work without getting paid. I hope
you realize that.”
“I’ll pay you. I’ll find the money; don’t worry.”
“That’s good to hear, Mary. I’ll get to work, then.”
I draw in a sigh of relief and turn the car in front of the driveway to
my dad’s house. I am about to drive in when I spot a face from my
past. She is standing on the pavement in front of the fence, with a
dog on a leash. I roll down the window. She doesn’t seem surprised
to see me.
“Sandra?” I ask. “Is that really you?”
She smiles and nods. “I heard you were home. I wanted to stop
by and say hello.”
Sandra. Sandra was probably my best friend growing up. The
best surfer on the block, and by far the most gorgeous one of us.
She used to be so good she was invited to join the pro-tour for
women once, back when she was eighteen and everyone wanted a
piece of her. She was so beautiful and cool that all the brands and
magazines wanted her as a model, and soon after the modeling took
over more and more. Since she is also tall, she soon became a
fashion model who travelled all over the world and did fashion shows
for the big names and became friends with Naomi Campbell and
Helena Christensen. For years, we all envied her the life she had.
She still looks great. Unbearably great.
Looking at her now at the age of thirty-eight, she still takes the
prize for best looking. She is stunning. And slim. Looking at her
makes me feel fat. Ever since we hit the teenage years, I became
the chubby one between us, and the years have not been kind to me
in that direction. I guess I just like food a little too much. Apparently,
she doesn’t.
“How have you been?” I ask.
“Good. I’m good. Married,” she says, and shows me her ring
finger.
“That’s right. To Ryan, right? He was a senior when we started
high school, as far as I remember. Who would have known it was
going to be you two?”
Sandra chuckles. “Not me.”
“So, you’re back here?” I ask. “Last thing I heard you were living
in Italy?”
“I was. For many years I lived in Milan. But then my mother got
sick and I came back and ran into Ryan. He had just started his own
construction company. A year later, we got married and when my
dad died two years after my mom, I inherited their old house right
down there by the end of 7th Street. We rebuilt it, so you can
probably hardly recognize it.”
“So, you’re still in that old house? That’s amazing,” I say. “You still
work?”
“A little here and there,” she says.
I can tell she is being modest.
“I bet you’ve made enough to last you a lifetime, huh?”
She shrugs. “I guess. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, though. I
mean it was fun when I was younger, but the pressure…I’m feeling it
now that I’m getting older. I try to say yes to anything they give me. I
still travel a lot.”
 “Any kids?”
She looks at me, then shakes her head. “There just hasn’t been
time, you know?”
I do know what she is talking about. In my career, I have met so
many women that believed they were too busy to have a child. I
have the impression many of them simply let time pass, thinking
there would come a perfect time to have children. But the thing is, it
will never come. There is no such thing as the perfect time to have
children. My son came to me when I least expected or wanted it. I
was at the highlight of my career, rocking it at CNN in Atlanta, so I
blamed God for having bad timing. Of course, today, I wouldn’t
change him for any career in the world. Not even Sandra’s.
“So, any of the others from the old crew still live around here?” I
ask.
Her face lights up. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, they all do. You
know how it is. You go away, but you come back because it’s the
best place on earth, right?”
To hear Sandra call Cocoa Beach the best place on earth is very
strange. Can this really be the same girl I grew up with? She used to
go on and on about how she couldn’t wait to get out of here and how
she dreamt of touring the world as a pro surfer.
“Well, I guess you already know that Joey recently came back,”
she says.
“I know that, thank you very much,” I say with a sigh.
I can tell Sandra wants to go deeper into the subject, but she
holds back.
“Well, Marcia has been here since she divorced her husband four
years ago. She bought a condo on the beach close to 8th Street.
You’ll see her around. She had her license revoked because of a
DUI, so she rides her bike everywhere. Alex works at the school.
He’s a teacher at Roosevelt now. Danny has been promoted to
captain at the fire department. They just recently got a new big
building down by Minutemen, and Chloe…well, you know Chloe…
she is who she is. She still lives in her mom’s house down the
street.”
I chuckle. “She still lives there?”
 “Yeah. We don’t see her much. She is nocturnal. Only up when
the sun goes down.”
“What does she do? Is she still hacking?” I ask, thinking about
how Chloe back then had engaged in a world none of us had any
clue about. I always believed she was an overlooked genius.
“Actually, she works in cyber-security now for some of the biggest
companies around here, one of her clients being NASA. But she
works from home. Takes care of her mother that way. I think she
makes a decent amount of money doing that.”
I picture Chloe sitting in her old room, surrounded by chips and
sodas, her eyes fixated on a screen and her fingers dancing across
the keyboard. She was never among the best surfers around here,
but she used to go out with us anyway. I wonder if she still surfs.
“So, I take it you’re back because of what happened to Blake?”
Sandra asks after a long pause, where I sense she was working up
the courage to ask me.
“Yes. To be frank, I really don’t know how to deal with it right
now.”
“And your old man?”
“Washing his hands, as always,” I say. “He believes Blake needs
to get himself out of it. He doesn’t really care.”
“He still called you, didn’t he?” Sandra asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he called to tell you, so he has to care to some extent,
right?”
“I guess you’re right,” I say and look at my old childhood friend. I
realize I have missed her. We used to be able to talk for hours and
hours. Now it feels awkward.
“Maybe we should get the old crew together while you’re here,”
she says. “Just for old time’s sake.”
I freeze completely.
“Unless you don’t want to?”
I shake my head. “No. No. I mean, I do. I think I do. There is just
so much…I mean we haven’t seen each other in a very long time;
we haven’t hung out since…” I pause and look at her, not knowing
what to say. We both know what I am talking about. We have
avoided bringing up the subject and we both know everyone will try
to avoid it if we are brought together again. It will only be awkward.
So extremely awkward.
“You know what?” Sandra says. “Maybe it was a bad idea. It was
good to see you again, Mary.”
She touches my shoulder briefly and walks past me, nudging her
little Chihuahua along as she walks across A1A towards her own
house by the end of 7th Street. I watch her walk away, her perfect
little behind moving beautifully in her tight shorts, then curse Blake
for getting himself—and thereby me—into this awful mess. I was
doing so well up there in New York, minding my own business,
slowly forgetting my past. Now it has all come back to laugh in my
face.
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

SEPTEMBER 2015

J ean Schmidt closes the window of her small house. She feels a
chill of happiness rush through her body while looking out on the
canal where the sun is about to set in the distance. She can’t believe
they have finally moved into the house of their dreams. She has
dreamt of living canal-front ever since she was just a young child
growing up in Cocoa Beach. She remembers sitting on the school
bus, driving around town picking up kids, her nose pressed against
the window, dreaming about living in one of the houses that has a
view of the water and a dock and maybe a boat in the back. And for
years, she worked to save enough to buy it. Neither she nor her
husband, Danny, make much money, so for years they lived in a
small townhouse by Fifth Street. But three months ago, Danny was
made captain at the fire station, and with his raise, the bank finally
agreed to give them the loan for the house of their dreams. They had
saved just enough for the down payment.
They bought a beautiful two-story house with a dock big enough
for them to have a table and six chairs and a tiki bar on it, and it even
has a boat ramp. That is their next goal, Danny says. To get a boat.
Jean doesn’t care about sailing. She just wants to have it so the
neighbors can see it docked by her house.
“I’m going to my room to watch TV,” Daniel Junior says, as he
enters the kitchen where Jean is standing admiring the view and the
sunset over the Thousand Islands. It is gorgeous. There is nothing
like a Florida sunset.
 Jean turns her head and nods. “Sure.”
Junior grabs a soda from the fridge. Jean gives him a look. “Soda
right before bed? Is that a good choice, do you think?”
Junior growls. At the age of eighteen, she can rarely still tell him
what to do and what not to. Junior puts the soda can back and grabs
a water bottle instead.
“Is Dad at the station?” he asks.
Jean nods. “Last night of his 48-hour shift. He’ll be home in the
morning. He talked about taking you fishing if you like?”
Junior nods. “Sure. I mean whatever. If he wants.”
“Great. I’ll tell him. Once he has slept, he’ll take you out on Alex’s
boat.”
Junior shrugs, pretending like he doesn’t care, but Jean knows
he loves to go fishing with his dad. It just isn’t cool to show it.
“Okay. Goodnight.”
Junior leaves and Jean returns to look at the sunset. She takes a
picture of it with her phone and posts it on Facebook. Not that her
friends haven’t seen it before. She has posted those pictures every
day since they moved in, but she just can’t help herself. It is truly
spectacular.
Jean pours herself a glass of wine and walks outside to catch a
glimpse of the orange sun. She sits in one of her lounge chairs and
sips her wine. She has the entire weekend off from the DMV office,
but she is tired from having worked all week. Gosh, how she loathes
her job. Sitting all day taking care of people that need to renew their
driver’s licenses, or who have lost them somehow, is so tedious, so
mind numbing she sometimes has to swim away in strange fantasies
about her piercing their eyes with a pen or using the stapler to make
art out of their faces. What would it feel like to put someone’s finger
inside a stapler, then accidentally press it down? Would she hear the
bones crush if she pressed hard enough? Would it bleed? Would the
idiot scream? It’s those small fantasies that keep her going.
Otherwise, she would simply go insane. These people are so stupid,
so idiotic, it is mind-blowing. But it pays the bills, and now it had
helped Jean get the house of her dreams. Well, that and Danny’s
promotion.
 The sun disappears behind the islands and darkness surrounds
her fast. There is no wind and soon the mosquitoes have a feast.
Especially the No See Ums are terrible at this time of day. Those
small bastards will eat you up in seconds and leave small red
bumps, but you can never see them, hence the name. They are
even small enough to go through your screen. It is so annoying.
Jean tries to ignore the itching and burning sensation that soon
covers her legs, but soon it is too overwhelming and she has to go
back inside. She didn’t know the No See Ums were this bad by the
canals, but apparently this is where they live and multiply. They love
the murky fresh water in the canals. And when there is no wind to
keep them away, like this evening, there is no way to fight them.
Jean has tried everything. Candles, different sprays. Nothing works.
Jean takes her wine and sits in the living room and turns on the
TV. She watches an episode of CSI Miami, but halfway through she
has emptied her glass of wine and needs a refill. Junior is quiet
upstairs and she figures he has fallen asleep. Jean likes having the
house to herself. Danny is a sweet man, but he is incredibly boring.
The way he eats is the worst part. She simply loathes eating with
him. She always looks forward to when his shift starts. That gives
her forty-eight hours on her own to enjoy her life.
Jean sighs and pours more wine into the glass, then throws away
the bottle. It has become a habit for her to open a bottle of Cupcake
white wine every afternoon and finish it at night. It is the only way
she can really get through the day…knowing that a bottle of wine is
waiting for her at home.
Jean closes her eyes and sips her wine, standing in the kitchen,
when suddenly the wind chime on her back porch starts making an
awful lot of noise. Jean opens her eyes. There is nothing but
darkness outside of her windows.
That’s strange, she thinks to herself. Has the wind suddenly
picked up? Are we expecting a storm tonight? There wasn’t a cloud
in the sky at sunset. Has it come from the ocean side?
The wind chime plays again. The music is haunting. Jean opens
the door to the porch and peeks out, but there is nothing there. The
wind chime is completely still now. It isn’t even moving. Jean looks at
the flagpole with the flag they have put up and put a spotlight on.
The flag is hanging flat down.
That’s odd. There is no wind at all.
Thinking that she is probably just imagining things, Jean decides
to go back into the house. Just as she closes the sliding door, the
music starts over again. Jean gasps and looks out through the
window. She can’t see anything.
Maybe it’s an animal? Could a bird have flown into it?
Jean shakes her head. She is probably just tired. All those hours
of listening to people and all their crap is making her hear things.
She decides it’s time for bed and turns off the TV, then the light in
the living room. As she walks through the kitchen, she hears the
noise again. This time, the wind chime is louder than any of the other
times.
What is this?
“That’s it,” Jean says. “I’m taking that thing down. I won’t be able
to sleep if it is going to make this loud noise all night.”
With determined steps, she walks to the sliding door and opens it
out to the porch, where the wind chime is so noisy it drowns out
every other sound, even the crickets that are usually very busy at
this time of night.
The chime is hanging from a hook under the roof of the porch.
Jean turns on the light to better see. She looks in the direction of the
chime, then stops.
A woman wearing a surgical mask is standing underneath it.
Jean stares at her. She is short, wearing a black coat hiding most of
her body.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my yard?” Jean asks.
The woman tilts her head. “Am I pretty?” she asks.
Jean stares at her. “I can’t see your face because of the mask,
but I am sure you’re very pretty. Now get out of my yard before I call
the police.”
The woman tilts her head to the side a few times, then asks
again. “Am I pretty?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jean asks. “I really
have to…”
“Am I PRETTY??”
 The yelling startles Jean. She feels all of a sudden very
uncomfortable in the presence of this strange woman.
“You do know we are pro-gun in this house, right? There’s a sign
by the driveway.”
The woman doesn’t seem to react. Something about her eyes
seems familiar to Jean. Is she one of the weirdoes that she has met
at the DMV office? Jean sees so many faces every day. It is hard to
tell them apart.
“Am…I…Pretty?” she asks again. This time much calmer.
Jean sighs. The woman is probably drunk or stoned. She rolls
her eyes at her. “Well, if you have to know, then yes, you’re very
pretty.”
That seems to help. The woman’s face lights up. She grabs the
surgical mask and pulls it off. The sight that meets her makes Jean
gasp, horrified, and clasp her mouth.
“How about now?” the woman asks.
 CHAPTER TWENTY

FEBRUARY 1992

A lly Meyer starts at Cocoa Beach High in the middle of ninth

grade. She has just moved to town because her mother is starting a
new job at Kennedy Space Center. Ally is angry with her mother for
pulling her away from her comfortable surroundings once again, and
even before she has given it a chance, she hates the new place
more than all the others she has moved to over the years.
On her first day, she keeps to herself. Or at least she tries to.
Decisive that she doesn’t want to make friends, she doesn’t want to
be happy here, she avoids talking to anyone or sitting with anyone at
lunch.
Still, she can’t be left alone. Two of the girls from her class come
up to her during lunch break and sit with her. Mary and Sandra are
their names. They both live on 7th Street, they tell her.
“We all surf. Do you surf?” Mary asks.
She is the chubby one. The other, Sandra, is so beautiful Ally
feels intimidated by her. And on top of it, she is also sweet. It is too
much. Almost nauseating.
“N-no. I don’t,” she says, shaking her head.
Ally isn’t very athletic. Never has been. When all the other kids on
the street ride their bikes or jump rope, Ally stays inside listening to
music on her Walkman. Sports just aren’t her thing.
“Maybe we can teach you,” Sandra says.
“Yeah,” Mary says. “Sandra here is the best. You should see her
turn off the lip. Slam! She’s like Kelly, dude.”
 “Who’s Kelly?” Ally asks.
“Kelly Slater!” Mary exclaims. “Only like the best surfer ever.”
“Well, Mary thinks he is,” Sandra says.
“Oh, he’s gonna be. Just you wait and see. Used to go to this
high school, you know. He’s only like five years older than us. He
won Rookie of the Year last year on the pro tour and he is in the lead
to win the world title this year. Isn’t it crazy? I even heard rumors that
he is going to appear on an episode of Baywatch this year.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Sandra says.
Ally stares at the two girls, not knowing what to say to them. She
has no clue who this Kelly-character is, and she certainly doesn’t like
to watch Baywatch. She has a pretty good idea that surfing probably
isn’t her thing either. She has no desire to show herself in a bikini.
“I-I have to go,” she says and grabs her things, then leaves the
table. Ally feels a huge relief as she walks away. There is no way
she is going to make friends here at this school. None of them are
like her.
At least she doesn’t think they are, until another girl approaches
her as she reaches her locker. Ally is fighting with the lock on it. Ally
doesn’t notice the girl until after she slams her fist into the locker in
anger because it won’t open.
“Nice punch,” the girl says.
She is flanked by two other girls. They are all wearing black
makeup around their eyes and the girl in front even has a green
Mohawk. Ally thinks she looks so cool. She has at least four or five
earrings in each ear and one in her nose as well. She is like a rock
star.
“Thanks,” Ally says, feeling even more intimidated than earlier.
“Say, I saw you with the surfers earlier,” the girl says. “Are you
one of them?”
“I-I-I don’t know them. They just came up to me and started
talking about surfing and some guy…”
The girl chuckles. “Yeah, they’re all about that. Always talking
about Kelly Slater and surfing and the waves and crap like that.
There are a lot of those in this school. Surfers are all over. The
question is, will you be one of them or are you with us?”
 She is very upfront. Ally likes that. She stares at the girl, who now
slams her fist into the lock and smashes it, then pulls the door to
Ally’s locker open. “You might need a new lock for that,” she says.
“Thanks. I’m Ally.” Ally holds out her hand.
The girl looks at the hand, then laughs. “Welcome to our school,
Ally,” she says, and walks away.
“Hey, how will I know your name?”
The girl turns and smiles.
“People around here call me AK,” she yells back. “Like the rifle.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SEPTEMBER 2015

Imorning,
finally have some time to spend at the beach with Salter. The next
we grab two of my old surfboards and paddle out together.
Salter has surfed a bit this past summer when visiting his dad, so he
is eager to show me how good he has become. I feel nervous
because he is not a very strong swimmer.
It is a gorgeous day out. Not a cloud in the sky and the ocean is
glassy. The waves are really good. There is a storm in the Atlantic.
Hurricane Joaquin is roaring somewhere far out and creates some
good and decent ground swell for us, and soon we both ride one
wave after the other. I am impressed with how good my son has
become. He seems to have no trouble anymore, not even with the
swimming. I realize I was mistaken about him.
I am a little rusty, but surfing is kind of like riding a bike. You
never forget completely. In the beginning, when we moved to
Manhattan, Joey and I would go up to Montauk and surf, but as the
years passed we did it less and less. Just like all the other things we
never did anymore. It wasn’t something that happened all of a
sudden. It kind of snuck up on us.
While waiting for a wave, I wonder if things would be different
today if I had been better at taking care of my marriage, if I had
prioritized it more. As soon as Salter came into our lives, Joey
moved down to like number three on my list of priorities. I kept Salter
and my career ahead of him. That can never be a great cocktail.
Looking back, it is pretty obvious. It just isn’t when you are in the
middle of it. I somehow kept telling myself things were going to
change soon, as soon as I was done with this assignment or that
project, as soon as Salter grew a little older, or as soon as Joey got a
job. But things never improved. Not when I didn’t do anything about
them. I let this happen. I was as much at fault as he was.
And now there is no going back.
After about half an hour in the water, the line-up is beginning to
get crowded. It is Sunday and the waves are good, a very rare
combination. They are usually always perfect Monday morning when
everyone has to work or go to school. I must have skipped the first
two hours of school a hundred times because the waves were good
on a Monday morning.
“Hi there. I thought I might find you here.”
“Daaad!”
Salter almost falls off his board while trying to greet his father.
Joey paddles up and stays close to him so they can hug. Seeing
them together makes me happy and sad at the same time. Why did I
ruin this? Why did he?
“Hi,” he says when our eyes meet. “I hope it’s all right with you
that I join you?”
I smile. “Of course. Just don’t drop in on me.”
Joey laughs. It seems a little forced. “What happened to sharing
is caring?”
Sharing is caring is something we used to say when the 7th Street
Crew surfed together. We made it a deal to never get angry if
someone dropped in on your wave. Between us, we knew how to
share a good wave and sometimes it made it even more fun.
I feel a pinch in my heart, remembering all the Sundays we used
to spend out here on the ocean, cheering each other on when
someone had a good wave, laughing at Marcia when she wiped out,
which she always did. Or cheering on Danny when he finally made it
to the nose of his humongous long board.
As I sit on my board remembering all this, I spot Sandra paddling
out on her short board. Alex, who has the same big smile on his face
as he always used to when paddling out, follows her.
“Yeah! The 7th Street Crew breaks rules,” he exclaims with a loud
cheer.
 I can’t help smiling. Even if it is not all of us, it suddenly feels a
little like the old days. It fills me with both joy and sadness as well. I
say hello to Alex as he comes out and sits on his board. He hasn’t
changed much. Still small and chubby like me. Well, he has gotten a
little chubbier, but he still has great hair and the sweetest smile. I
have always loved hanging out with Alex. He is such a happy guy.
Easy to please.
I look at Joey, who instructs Salter to start paddling for a wave.
“It’s your wave, go get it, go, go. Now get up. Get up fast!”
And there he goes. I have never been more proud of my son than
in this moment when he catches the wave and I see the smile on his
face as he rides it in.
“That’s it, Salter. Take it all the way to the beach.”
Joey laughs. Meanwhile, Sandra catches a wave and shreds it
completely.
“Almost like the good old times, huh?” Alex says. “I should bring
my kid out here next time. He’s about your kid’s age. We could all
hang out together.”
“We’re only staying a few days,” I say.
I like the thought of the kids hanging out together like we used to,
but it also reminds me of something I was trying to forget. I can’t
have Salter making friends here. He can’t get attached to the town.
We won’t stay here.
“There is someone on the beach who wants to talk to you,” Salter
says, addressed to Joey when he comes back out. “She told me to
tell you.”
We all look to the beach and spot another of our old friends,
Marcia. She is standing with her arms over her head, waving at us to
come back in. She is using the old sign with her arms that we used
to for letting someone know to come back in.
I shrug. “I guess it’s time for lunch anyway,” I say, addressed to
Salter.
“Let’s all go in and see what she wants,” Alex says. “Here’s a
wave. Wanna share it?”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SEPTEMBER 2015

W e all grab the same wave and ride it into the beach. It is the
party-wave of a lifetime for me. I can’t believe I am riding it with my
son. I feel so happy when we hit the beach and I run to give him a
high-five. Sandra is, of course, shredding the wave to pieces ending
on a floater, while Alex nosedives and Joey rides it old school and
cool on his long board.
“That was a good one,” he yells at me once we get up on the
beach. He looks so handsome coming out of the water with his well-
built torso and long curly hair. I always picture him being played by
Chris Hemsworth if they ever make a movie about our lives. Okay,
so Joey isn’t quite as handsome as the Thor-actor, but he is up
there. At least in my opinion.
“What’s going on, Marcia?” Sandra asks when we approach her.
Marcia looks very upset. She has gotten old, I am surprised to
see. She used to have a very pretty face with deep brown eyes, but
age hasn’t been good to her. She has gained a lot of weight, but we
all have, except for Sandra, of course. Marcia’s skin is damaged.
Lots of age-spots from too much sun, and visible veins on her nose
bear witness of too much alcohol.
“I-i-it’s Danny. I-I-I can’t believe it…”
“What happened, Marcia?” Joey asks.
We are all beginning to feel uncomfortable. The look in Marcia’s
eyes tells us something is terribly wrong.
“It’s Jean…Danny…he came home…police…Junior…”
 She is making no sense at all.
“What happened to Danny, Marcia?” Sandra asks, putting her
hand on Marcia’s shoulder to calm her down.
“It’s Jean. He came home around ten-thirty. Danny came home
from his shift this morning. He found her on the porch. Stabbed in
the throat. The scissors were still there. Sitting in her throat. She was
in a huge pool of blood. The police are there.”
“Oh, my God,” Sandra gasps, cupping her mouth.
None of us can believe what we hear. A million thoughts run
through my mind. I have known Jean since we were in Kindergarten.
She is one of the local girls. I know her pretty well, even though I
have never been particularly close to her.
“Is she dead?” Alex asks.
“Yes. I saw the body be moved on the stretcher in a closed bag.
I’ve seen enough CSI to know what that means.”
Sandra lets out a moan of terror. Alex hugs her. She cries. I feel
like crying too, but hold it back.
“Poor Danny,” Sandra says.
“How did this happen?” Joey asks. “Who?”
Marcia shrugs. “I just spoke shortly with one of the neighbors,
then thought I would bike down here and tell you guys. Danny needs
us now.”
“Maybe we should go there and see if there is anything we can
do,” I say.
The entire flock turns and looks at me. Marcia hasn’t noticed me
until now.
“Mary? You’re home?” she says very loudly, then throws herself
in my arms. She reeks of alcohol.
“Yes, I’m home. Just for a few days, though,” I say, and give her a
quick hug. “Got a few things to take care of.”
“Ah, don’t pretend like we don’t know about your brother,” Marcia
says with a sniffle. “Everyone here knows what happened, and
everyone here believes he is innocent. Don’t you ever doubt that.
We’re behind Blake in all of this. Right guys?”
They all nod, to my surprise.
“Yeah, we know Blake,” Alex says. “He is many things, but not a
killer.”
 “Thank you,” I exclaim, maybe a little too loud. I am just so happy
to hear it from someone else. “That’s what I keep telling people.”
We leave our boards on the beach and walk up to the crosswalk
and down 7th Street. The sun is baking from the clear sky, the
moisture in the air making it feel hotter than it really is. I know the
others don’t feel it as much as I do, since they are used to it. But it
has been a long time since I was last in Florida’s humid climate, and
even though I am wearing nothing but a bikini bottom and a rash
guard, I am sweating heavily by the time we arrive at Danny’s house
in Snug Harbor after a fifteen-minute walk.
A crowd has gathered in front of the police tape. Some are
crying, others just staring at the scenery, shaking their heads in
disbelief. I know what they are thinking. This is a quiet neighborhood.
Nothing like this happens around here.
The ambulance is still at the scene, and we spot Danny, who is
speaking to an officer. He is sitting on the bumper of the ambulance,
shaking his head, his son sitting next to him, crying his eyes out, the
poor thing. Danny is shaking his head, then pointing at the house like
he is explaining. The officer takes notes. Danny looks devastated.
The officer leaves him and he is just sitting there, staring at his
house and the people coming in and out of it, wearing gloves and
body suits.
“Danny!”
Joey yells. That is so typically Joey. The entire crowd turns their
heads and lets him go through. Joey walks up to the police tape.
Danny spots him, then gets up and walks closer. An officer stops
Joey from going under the tape. We are all right behind him. Danny
approaches us, his eyes bloodshot and disoriented.
“Oh, man,” Joey says. His voice is breaking.
Danny was probably his best friend growing up. Joey reaches in
over the tape and hugs his buddy. Danny hides his face in Joey’s
shoulder and sobs, his upper body jerking back and forth.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Joey says, then repeats it over and over
again. “I’m so sorry.”
“She’s gone, Joey. She’s really gone. I can’t believe it,” Danny
says. “How am I going to do this? How am I going to get through
this?”
 “One step at a time, man,” Joey says.
“Yeah, one step at a time,” Marcia says, and puts her arms
around him as well.
“We’re all here for you,” Sandra says, and joins in.
Alex nods and wipes away a tear, then he leans in on me, and
not knowing what else to do, I try to comfort him. That is when I spot
someone in the crowd. She is kind of hiding behind a bigger guy, but
I can always spot Chloe from a distance.
“Chloe,” I say and wave. “Chloe!”
She approaches me with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“What the heck is going on?” she asks and gives me a quick hug.
I can’t believe how much she has changed. It is quite a surprise
to me. She looks nothing like the old Chloe from twenty years earlier.
Gone are the many piercings. Gone are the military boots and the
black hair. Now she is wearing sporty shorts and a T-shirt and a
baseball cap, making her look like any of the other soccer moms
around here. But in her eyes, behind the glasses, I still spot the
defiance I always loved so much about her.
“Something happened to Danny?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Jean is dead,” I say. “She was found killed this
morning.”
Chloe looks at me. “Jean is dead?” she whispers back. “Killed
here in this neighborhood?”
I nod.
“I bet he did it,” she says, looking in Danny’s direction.
“Chloe!”
“I know. I know. Danny could never have done it. But I wouldn’t
blame him if he had,” she says. “That woman treated Danny like he
was garbage. Nothing was ever good enough for her.”
“That’s hardly a reason to kill her,” I say.
I know she is right about one thing, though. Jean has made a lot
of enemies over the years. She wasn’t a very nice person, at least
not back in high school, and I never understood what Danny saw in
her. But, still, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her.
“He loved her,” I say. “Danny loved her.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MAY 1977

T he ear infection is gone quickly, and soon everything goes back to

normal. Penelope stays at home with the baby while Peter goes to
the office and spends long hours working on his case. Long
afternoons turn into evenings, and soon he doesn’t even come home
at night.
At the house, Penelope tries to make everything work. The baby
doesn’t cry as much as when she was sick, but it is still enough to
drive Penelope crazy. She feels so claustrophobic in the house. It is
like the walls are closing in on her, like the house is getting ready to
suffocate her.
Penelope tries to make the best of it. She takes long walks on the
beach with the stroller or drives to Lori Wilson Park and sits at the
playground while the baby sleeps. She looks at all the small children
playing, running, screaming, and thinks that this is soon going to be
her life. Worried mothers are chasing the youngest among them
around, making sure they don’t fall and hurt themselves or put dirt in
their mouths.
Is she looking forward to this? She isn’t sure. She loves her little
girl and is looking forward to seeing her grow up, but she is just so
insecure of her own abilities as a mother. Is she good enough?
There is so much that can go wrong, especially when they start
walking and running around. Penelope doesn’t feel certain she will
be able to be there constantly, watching over the baby every minute
of her life. What if something happens?
 One day, when Penelope is watching the kids on the playground,
one of them picks up a small piece of metal and puts it in his mouth.
The mother doesn’t see anything and soon it is stuck in his throat.
The kid starts to cough and turns blue before the mother discovers it
and completely panics. Minutes later, the kid is taken to the hospital.
Penelope watches the scene with terror, thinking anything could
happen at any moment if you aren’t careful.
That same night, she prepares dinner for her husband at six, as
usual, and sits down and waits for him to come home. At seven,
when the lamb has turned cold and grey, she decides to clean it all
up again. Peter isn’t coming home for dinner tonight either. While
cleaning up, she wonders where he is and what he is doing. She
knows he is done with the case he worked on before, but apparently
he has a new one now that takes up all of his time. She doesn’t
understand how he has to work this much constantly. Isn’t there any
time for a break? Any time for his family?
She grabs the phone and calls the office to hear how he is doing.
It isn’t something she has ever done before, because Peter told her
not to unless it is an emergency, but today she is tired of waiting.
She is sick and tired of sitting alone in this big, empty house talking
to a baby all day. She wants to be with the man she loves; she wants
him to be with her, to notice her, to love her like he used to. In the
days after the ear infection, he was like in the old days. He stayed at
home when they came home from the hospital. He was with her and
the baby and looked at her like he used to back in the days when
their love for one another was still new and warm. But as soon as the
ear infection was healed, he stopped paying attention to her again.
He went back to his old self, his old overworking, and serious self,
telling her she can handle the home and the baby perfectly fine and
that she doesn’t need him around now that the baby is well.
“Hello, Penelope? What’s wrong?” he says when he answers. “Is
the baby sick again?”
Penelope looks at the sleeping baby in the crib. Then she starts
to cry.
“Penelope. Is everything all right? Why are you crying?”
“The baby is sick again, Peter. You’d better come home.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SEPTEMBER 2015

Iwalks
take Salter back to my dad’s house and take a shower while Salter
Snowflake. Dogs aren’t allowed on the beach, so he has to
walk him on the street. Meanwhile, I get all the salt and sand washed
off of me while wondering about Jean. I remember her vividly from
my high school days.
She belonged to a flock of girls that I hadn’t socialized a lot with.
They were sort of the outsiders at the school. When the rest of us
went surfing or skateboarding, they liked to just hang out and drink at
the beach. Often they would stay there after dark. They would steal
chairs from people’s yards or old wood, or even break down part of
people’s fences to have wood for their bonfires. Then they would get
drunk and be very loud all night. Our neighbors often called the
police on them, especially when they had fires on the beach during
turtle season. When the police came, they would confiscate the girls’
beers and send them home. But the next weekend, they would be
down there again. They always chose 7th Street as their location,
and always right in front of our house. Sometimes, they would have
boys down there with them and could be very loud. My dad never
called the cops on them, yet they still had it in for us. One morning,
when I came down to the beach to clean up after them as usual on
Saturday mornings, they had written something, a message using
the empty beer cans. It said:
BURN IN HELL MILLS
 I felt extremely uneasy reading the message. Coming back to the
house, I told my father about it, but he told me to leave it alone. They
were just drunk and fooling around. Meanwhile, I was terrified of
these girls and avoided them the best I could in school. But their dirty
looks were always on me when I walked the hallways or in class.
I shiver thinking about them again and turn off the shower. I grab
a towel and get out. I can’t help but wonder if Jean had changed
since those days. We were, after all, very young…just teenagers. I
can’t believe that our sweet Danny would marry her if she hadn’t
changed.
I get dressed and brush my hair. I am about to put on make-up,
but decide not to. I am not going to impress anyone anyway. It is a
very liberating feeling to not wear make-up for once. I leave the room
feeling ten pounds lighter. Today, I am just going to wear a light
summer dress and no makeup.
This is me. Nothing but just me.
Salter has apparently decided to take a longer walk, so I have
nothing much to do while I wait. I decide to go down to the kitchen
and prepare some lunch for the entire family. I know Laura won’t
make anything; she probably doesn’t even eat lunch while on her
paleo-gluten-free non-fat, no-sugar diet. Does she eat at all? I
wonder. She doesn’t look like it.
I walk down the stairs and into the hallway. When I am supposed
to turn right to go to the kitchen, I stop instead and look down the
hallway to the left. I don’t know what comes over me at that moment,
but my heart suddenly starts racing. I have a hard time breathing,
and I feel an enormous pressure on my chest. I gasp for air as I look
down the hallway to the rooms at this part of the house that no one
ever uses except for Laura. I hear a voice in my head, a small
childlike voice.
Please! No, no, please, please don’t.
I grasp the railing of the stairwell so I won’t fall. I am panting for
air as the many pictures run through my mind. Usually, I can block
them out, but these won’t go away. I see my mother, my beautiful,
stoic mother on the stairs. She is smiling, smiling at me.
Please don’t! Please stop!
 The screams get louder, then are replaced by a child crying. I see
myself. I am not a child, though. I am a young teenager. I am crying.
I can’t stop. I feel so helpless. Then the screams are back. Squeals
of pain. I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing.
Think about something good. Think about Salter. Salter and
Snowflake. The two things in your life that are good, that make it all
worth it.
My heart is finally calmed down and I can open my eyes again. At
the top of the stairs, I spot my dad. He is looking down at me. I can
tell he has been there for a long time. He watches me for a few
seconds, then turns and walks away.
I want to yell after him, tell to come back, to face me and my pain,
but I don’t.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SEPTEMBER 2015

L iz can’t find rest. She goes for a run at the track on base. The
sweat is springing from her forehead. She is alone on the track. No
one in their right mind would run in the middle of the day in the
baking sun in Florida.
Liz doesn’t care. She wants it to be hard. She wants to sweat and
exhaust herself, she wants to get some of all that anger inside of her
out.
So far, there has been nothing in the local media about Billy the
Kid or anyone talking about what happened to him at the resort. Liz
smiles to herself when thinking about how much pain she inflicted on
the guy. It fills her with so much pleasure, she has goose bumps in
eighty-six degrees.
The sucker. Thought that he could get lucky, huh? I guess I
showed him. Oh, I showed him good.
The other girls were scared when they were driving back to base.
“What if he tells the police?” Kim asked.
“What if he is found by a cleaning lady or something?” Jamie
asked. “And she calls the police?”
But they were wrong for worrying. Liz always knows what she is
doing. She knows a guy like Billy will never admit to anyone that a
bunch of girls humiliated and degraded him like that. It is just like
back in the schoolyard. Boys never tell if a girl beats them up. They
know they will never hear the end of it from the other kids if they do.
 “Take it easy, guys,” Liz had told them. “It’s me, remember? I’ve
got this. Anyone who wants out can simply say so.”
That quieted them down. They all knew what happened to the
last girl who had tried to leave the group.
Liz has no idea what happened to Billy the Kid after they left him.
Maybe he died? Nah, then she would have heard about it. It would
have been on TV, and there was nothing the next morning or today.
Part of her wants the media to tell about what she did. She likes it
when they shiver in fear of what she can do. It isn’t like they would
ever know it was her. She is very good at covering her tracks. It is
easy for her. Almost too easy.
She likes being in control. She likes having all the power. It
almost went wrong once, but she always lands on top. She is that
good at what she does. It is almost a sport for her.
In this moment, while running the track in the burning heat, Liz is
feeling a great thrill go through her body. She saw the girl. Early in
the morning, Liz took a drive up the coast, burning some rubber,
speeding across A1A like she loves to do when she is not on duty,
and right there, she saw her. She saw her walking across the street
along with all the other idiots from back then.
Mary. Mary Mills.
Seeing her, Liz sped up with the intention of killing her right there
on the spot, simply run her car into her floppy body. Oh how much
she desired to do it, to finally finish her off, but in the last moment
she had decided not to.
Not like this. Not yet. When she goes, it has to be spectacular.
Your best work to date.
She isn’t surprised that Mary Mills is back. Of course she came.
Liz was waiting for it. Of course she came down to help that stupid
brother of hers. Of course she is here.
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,
All dressed in black, black, black,
Liz laughs out loud while running and pretending to be punching
someone.
I’ll grab you hard, hard, hard
And give you smack, smack, smack
 Liz speeds up and storms towards the finish line, pressing herself
to the utmost, her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to burst.
She throws herself on the grass, panting for her breath, then looks at
her watch. She has beaten her personal best. She is in even better
shape than when she was in her twenties and travelled all over the
world as a soldier. She feels invincible, unbeatable. She is a freaking
goddess. The goddess of revenge.
And she is ready to settle the score.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
CMyoulddadyouis please keep the dog in your room?”
standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Salter and I are
sitting at the kitchen table, eating the salad I have created from what
little I could find in the kitchen. I am not much of a salad eater, so I
have poured a lot of cheese on it and found some pieces of chicken
that I prepared and put in. I am planning on going grocery shopping
afterwards to get us some real food.
I look down at Snowflake, who is sleeping under my feet. Salter
walked him for a long time, so he is exhausted.
“He’s not really bothering anyone, Dad.”
“Laura doesn’t like him being in here,” he says.
Of course. Laura. She came in here briefly and gave us one short
look, then ran to tell. Tattletale.
“I know, but he needed to get some water and food as well, and I
thought it was better to keep his bowls down here instead of on the
white carpet upstairs, where he will only spill and stain.”
My dad sighs and rubs his forehead. “Alright. Just take him to
your room when he has eaten and you’re done. I’ll take care of
Laura. Could you please remove the surfboards from the yard as
well?”
“Oh, those. Well, I kind of told Joey he could keep his board here,
since he wants to go surfing with Salter tomorrow morning, and then
Alex and Sandra asked if they could leave theirs as well. It’s just till
tomorrow.”
 “Well, we can’t have them all over the yard, Mary,” my dad says.
Again, I can hear this isn’t coming from him. He never used to care
when people left their boards in our yard, so they didn’t have to carry
them so far. But, of course, Laura has changed that as well.
“It looks terrible. All the neighbors can see them.”
“Come on, Dad! One of our friends just lost his wife this morning
in a terrible tragedy. We’re all pretty shaken up here. Can’t it wait till
tomorrow? They plan on stopping by and surfing early anyway
before work, and I’ll tell them to take their boards home afterwards,
all right? I think we have more important things on our minds right
now. Like your son. Remember Blake?”
My dad stares at me, then turns on his heel and leaves with an
angry grunt. Salter looks at me.
“Eat your food,” I say. “After this, we’re going to Publix to buy
some real food for this house. I can’t survive on salad alone. I am a
woman in my growing age. I need calories and so do you.”
Salter laughs, then finishes his salad. I drink my carrot juice,
holding my nose so I won’t taste it.
“Maybe I could spend the day with Dad instead?” Salter asks
cautiously.
“You mean to tell me you’d rather be with your father, whom you
never see, than spend the next couple of hours with your mother
whom you always see, buying groceries?” I ask with a smile.
I mess up his hair. He hates when I do that. I think it’s a little early
for him to be vain, so that’s why I keep doing it. He has just recently
gotten a new haircut and a lock of hair keeps falling into his face,
making him look cool. I like it, but I don’t like that he is getting so
teenage-like. It is too early. I, for one, am not ready.
“All right, kid. I’ll call your father and drop you off on the way
there. You’ll miss out on the samples, though. They have some good
ones down here. And you won’t be able to pick what we eat for
dinner either.”
“I think I’ll live,” he says.
I chuckle, yet feel a pinch of sadness. Grocery shopping is our
thing to do usually on Saturdays. We love it. Eating all the samples
that the nice ladies hand us, buying a delicious dinner and ice cream
for dessert, then killing a bag of chips while chasing the aisles for the
things that are actually on our list.
I enjoy having him as my life companion, and I’m not ready to let
him go. At least, not yet. It is my greatest fear that he will ask me if
he can move in with Joey. It would simply kill me.
“Mom, call him,” he says, and pushes my phone closer to me.
“All right, all right. Hold your horses, cowboy.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MAY 1977

W hen Peter comes home, Penelope is holding the baby in her

arms while she throws up violently. Peter is startled to learn that their
baby is sick once again.
“What happened?” he asks.
Penelope looks at him. “I don’t know. She just started to throw up
all of a sudden. And I think she has a fever.”
“We better take her to the emergency room again,” Peter says.
“She looks all pale.”
Penelope nods and shows him she has packed a bag with
diapers and extra clothes, in case they have to stay the night.
“We’re not going to need that, Penelope,” he says. “It’s probably
nothing. I think it needs to be really bad for them to want to keep her
overnight.”
But Penelope insists on bringing the bag, and soon they rush out
to the car, and just as they get in, the baby vomits once again, all
over the car seat.
Penelope immediately tries to wipe it off, but Peter stops her. “It
doesn’t matter. We need to go. Nothing is more important than our
baby right now.”
Penelope looks into the eyes of her beloved husband and nods.
“Of course not.”
When they arrive at the hospital, a doctor and a nurse take care
of the baby after only a short waiting period, during which the baby
throws up once again. Penelope feels such a relief when they
examine her. Peter puts his arm around her while the nurses take
her temperature.
“She’ll be fine,” he whispers. “Don’t worry.”
“What about your case?” Penelope says.
“Well, the hearing is tomorrow,” he says. “I put Greg and Mark on
it. They can gather the things we need.”
“Don’t you want to go and call the office and hear how they’re
doing?” she asks, hoping he won’t. “There was a payphone down the
hall. I can stay here and hear what they say.”
“No. They’ll be fine. This is more important.”
Penelope sighs deeply. Yes, the baby was the most important
thing now. She is so relieved he also feels that way.
“I can’t seem to find anything wrong with your baby,” the doctor
says, when he is done listening to her heart, checking her ears and
throat. “She has a little fever and she is a little dehydrated. I would
like to, however, keep her for the night. Just for observation and to
make sure she keeps hydrated.”
Penelope looks at Peter, who seems baffled. “Keep her
overnight?”
“I assure you, it’s nothing but a precaution,” the doctor says. “If
she continues to throw up all night, she will need lots of hydration.
She is, after all, still only a very young baby. We can’t be too careful.”
“Of course not, Doctor,” Penelope says. “See, I told you we were
going to need that bag. I even packed some clothes for you as well.”
Both parents sleep in chairs in the baby’s room at the hospital.
The baby vomits another time violently before she finally finds rest.
Penelope and Peter stay by her side and hardly sleep all night.
Every time the baby makes the smallest sound, Penelope calls the
nurses and asks for the doctor to come and see her. Peter tells her
she is just too worried and the doctors assure her the baby is in good
hands. Penelope listens to everything they tell her, and even writes
little notes in her notebook afterwards. She is determined to know
everything there is to know about this to make sure she is prepared.
The next morning, the baby wakes up feeling fine. She is cooing
and smiling in her bed. Peter wants to pick her up and hold her in his
arms, but Penelope stops him.
“No. Not until the doctor says it’s alright,” she says.
 Peter looks at her like she has lost it. Still, he decides to wait.
A nurse enters the room and looks at the baby. “Aw, she is such a
cutie. How is she doing this morning?”
“She still seems very pale,” Penelope says. “I hope she’s not
going to vomit again.”
“The poor thing. Does your tummy hurt, little baby? I feel bad for
her,” the nurse says, taking her temperature with a thermometer. “I
hate it when they’re this young. Being in a hospital bed when you’re
this young is no fun, is it? No, it isn’t. You should be at home in your
own comfortable bed with your mommy and not all these tubes and
machines everywhere that go beep-beep-beep.” The nurse tickled
the baby on her tummy. The baby responds with a huge grin.
“I know,” Penelope says. “It’s tough. But it’s for the best. She was
really sick yesterday. I’m not sure she’ll be better today. I fear the
worst. She threw up a lot. It was bad, right Peter?”
Peter nods. “It was pretty bad.”
The nurse looks at Penelope. “How are you holding up?”
“Me? Ah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Penelope let out a light
laugh. “This is not about me.”
“I bet neither of you got much sleep last night, huh?”
Penelope shakes her head. “No, you’re right. It’s hard when your
little one is sick.”
“It’s the worst. I tell you that,” the nurse says. “My oldest has
leukemia. He is home now, but you never know when you’re going to
spend a night like this holding his hand, you know? And all the
medicine he has to take constantly. Argh. I tell you. It’s tough on a
mother. I feel for you. I really do. Sometimes I think we mothers feel
the pain as much as the child.”
The nurse put her hand on Penelope’s shoulder and she feels
suddenly a lot more relaxed, like the anxiety that is constantly eating
at her suddenly is drowned out for a little while. It feels good.
Penelope feels calm. She can’t remember feeling like this ever since
the baby came into her life.
“It hasn’t been easy,” she says.
“Oh. I know,” the nurse says.” No one ever notices the mother
when the child is sick, but she is suffering as well, you know.”
“So true.”
 “Anyway. I sure hope your baby will be better,” the nurse says
and waves at the girl who gives her a big toothless grin. “She seems
to be doing very well this morning.” The nurse looks at the
thermometer in her hand. “There is no fever. That’s a good sign. The
doctor will be with you shortly on his rounds. I’m sure she is ready to
go home.”
Home? Now? But…but what if she gets sick again?
Penelope looks at the baby in the bed, feeling all of a sudden
terrified once again. The thought of having all the responsibility on
her shoulders, alone, is weighing her down. She doesn’t know how
to do it. She really doesn’t.
Peter comes up behind her. “Did you hear that? She said the
baby seems better. That’s great news, huh honey?”
Penelope swallows hard. “Yes, dear. That is wonderful news.
Wonderful indeed.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SEPTEMBER 2015

Itownhouse.
drive up in front of the complex where Joey has rented a small
I kill the engine, then look at Salter. His cheeks and nose
are red from the exposure to the sun this morning. Surfing does that
to you. Even if we slap on a lot of sunscreen before we go out. Our
skin hasn’t been in this much direct sunlight for a very long time. I
wonder how I all of a sudden have become this indoor person when I
have always been the opposite. But the past many months, after
Joey left us, I didn’t want to go outside. I wanted to hide from the
world. I wanted to stay in with Salter and Snowflake and eat chips on
the couch and feel sorry for myself. I still want that. Being fired hasn’t
helped.
“Aren’t you coming in to say hello?” Salter asks.
Joey has heard us drive up and is in the doorway waiting for us.
He is wearing a T-shirt and he is still in his board shorts. That is
Sundays for you in Florida. I remember wearing nothing but my
swimsuit all weekend. You might as well. It is so extremely hot, and
either you are in the ocean or you are in the pool. There isn’t much
time you spend dry on land in this place.
Joey looks devilishly handsome.
I bite my lip while staring at him from inside the car. I really don’t
want to come in. I have so much to do.
“I just saw him earlier,” I say. “I don’t think…”
I have barely finished the sentence before Joey opens the door to
my rented car and peeks in. “Are you coming, or what?” he asks
Salter.
Salter jumps out. Joey looks at me. “Do you want to come in for a
beer or something?”
I shake my head. “No. I was just…”
And there it is. The look in Joey’s eyes that I simply can’t resist. I
miss him. I miss talking to him.
You can’t have a beer with him! He was a bastard, remember?
He cheated on you!
“I- I-I have to go buy some groceries…”
Joey looks disappointed. “Oh. Okay. See you later then.”
I stare at him. Stare at those deep-set blue eyes. He doesn’t
leave. It’s like he knows I am fighting within.
“Ah, what the heck. Just one beer can’t hurt anything. Lord knows
I could use something after the morning we had,” I finally say and get
out.
You have the spine of a worm!
It is true. I have no backbone. Not when it comes to Joey.
“Let me give you a tour of the palace,” he says, when I walk
inside. The townhouse is a lot bigger than it appears from the
outside. It has two nice bedrooms upstairs and a living room
downstairs with a nice new kitchen. It is astonishing to me how much
you can get for your money down here, compared to The Big Apple.
When he opens the door to the bedroom, a big black lab comes
jumping out. It jumps up at me and I squeal in surprise. Behind it
tags a small brown pig. I stare at Joey.
“Really?”
“They kind of came together,” he says.
“Like a package deal?”
“Yeah. Kind of. They grew up together at a farm in Fellsmere. A
friend of mine had them, actually he used to live right next door, but
he had to move to California. He was a drummer in a band and they
had a breakthrough so he had to leave. He couldn’t take Bonnie and
Clyde, so I said I would take them till he came back. If he ever
comes back. Who knows.”
“Bonnie and Clyde?”
“Yes. One can’t live without the other. They need to stay together.
What can I say? They keep me company when I get lonely down
here. Besides, Salter loves them.”
I look at my son, who pets the pig on her head and kisses her.
Bonnie returns the gesture with a series of grunts. Salter laughs. I
don’t know what to think of this entire set-up. It is very far from the
life we lived in Manhattan. But I can tell Joey enjoys it. He likes being
back. It is like he is suddenly that same old Joey that I have known
most of my life, the same Joey I fell in love with in high school.
He smiles. His white teeth light up his tanned face. He is in a lot
better shape than before he left me. Probably all that surfing.
“So, how about that beer?” he says. “We can bring Bonnie and
Clyde out with us in the backyard. They need some fresh air.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SEPTEMBER 2015

S alter plays with the animals, throwing a ball around in the grass,
and for the most part it is Bonnie who picks it up. I wonder if it is like
in the movie Ice Age where the mammoth thinks she’s a possum and
acts like one. Maybe Bonnie thinks she is a dog like Clyde. She sure
acts like one.
“So, some day, huh?” Joey asks. “I can’t believe what happened
to Jean. I keep thinking about it.”
I sip my beer. I grabbed a light one since I am driving after this. It
feels good to be with Joey again, back in our old hood. Even though
I still hate this place, it is kind of beginning to grow on me a little. If
only it wasn’t combined with so much pain for me.
“I know. It’s crazy.”
“It’s all over the local news. They say she was stabbed in the
throat with a pair of scissors, then bled to death. Can you imagine
coming home and finding your wife like that? I would be devastated.
I don’t know how I would be able to keep on living.”
Being still his wife, even if we are separated, it makes me feel
flattered.
“He seemed pretty shaken. Have you heard from any of the
others?”
“Alex called just before you got here. Danny is still at the police
station for questioning. I can’t believe they can’t let a man grieve in
peace. I mean, he just lost his wife. Give him a break.”
 “But, they know Danny, right? He is, after all, captain at the fire
station next door to them.”
“I know. They work pretty close together. They won’t give him a
hard time, but still it must be so hard for him to have to go through
the interrogation right away.”
“I’m guessing they need to. Because of the investigation,” I say,
drawing on my experience from writing crime stories as a reporter. “It
all needs to be fresh in his memory. Any little detail might help in
finding whoever did this.”
Joey shrugs. “I guess. I still think it’s inhuman.”
“I’m guessing there isn’t much we can do right now, is there?” I
ask.
“Just be there for him,” he says. “Alex told me he had picked up
Junior and that the boy was at Alex’s house now. He is going to pick
up Danny as soon as he’s done at the station. Then I figure we all
should go there.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I thought I might cook for them. I can
throw something together for all of us and fill Alex’s freezer, so they
have food for some days while Junior and Danny stay with him. It will
be a few days, maybe more, before Danny and Junior can go back
to their house again. Forensic work takes a long time.”
Joey looks at me. “You cook now?”
I put a hand to my side. “And why do you sound so surprised?”
“Maybe because in the fifteen years we were married, you never
cooked.”
“That’s not true!”
“All right, you did cook a few times. A few times in fifteen years.”
“That was because I was always tired when I came home from
work.”
Joey’s face turns serious. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Your precious
work. I remember that.” He’s eyes avoid mine all of a sudden.
My heart drops. I know I took him for granted back then. Since he
didn’t work much, he had done most of the cooking or we had
ordered in. I am not very good with compliments. Growing up in a
house where compliments were something you had to work hard to
get, it doesn’t come natural to me. I want to say something nice to
him at this moment, but simply can’t get myself to it. I can’t get it
through my lips. I am still so angry at him for sleeping with that girl,
for leaving us. I am not sure he deserves a compliment.
“Well, I brought home the money, didn’t I?” I say instead. “I never
heard you complain about that. Or maybe you did when you went to
the coffee house?”
I immediately regret having said it when the words leave my lips.
I sense how Joey almost jumps when I say it.
“Are you saying I didn’t work? You were gone all day long, every
freaking day. Who picked up Salter? Who changed his diapers when
he was a baby? Who took him to the park? Who was there when he
took his first step? Who grocery shopped? Who washed and ironed
all your little skirts so you could wear them at your fancy office?
Huh? Who did all that?”
And there it is. We are right back where we started.
I put the beer bottle down on the patio table. “This was a
mistake,” I say and get up. “Salter, give Mommy a kiss. I’ll be back to
pick you up at four.”
 CHAPTER THIRTY

MARCH 1992

A lly is already happier in Cocoa Beach than in any of the seven

other places she had lived in. She never shows her parents, though.
To them, she is still angry, slamming doors and yelling at them, but
she has immediately fallen in. She has found her place hanging out
with the girls from school. None of these girls are like any of the
others at Cocoa Beach High, Ally soon learns. They aren’t the pretty
ones; they aren’t cheerleaders or surfers or soccer players like the
rest. They don’t care about good grades or pleasing the teachers.
Instead, they skip school together, a lot, and go downtown to hang
out on the streets. Their favorite thing to do is to yell mocking words
at tourists. That is a lot of fun. If they see a tourist waiting for the light
to turn green at a crosswalk, one of them will approach him while the
others watch. The dare is to steal his wallet without him noticing it.
They have tried to get Ally to do it too, but so far she has refused.
One of the girls, AK, soon starts to nag her about it, telling her that
you can’t just be a bystander. You can’t just let all the others do the
hard work while you have the fun laughing at it. Not in this group.
They all contribute.
“Besides, it’s fun,” she says, while touching her Mohawk. “It’s like
a drug. Once you’ve stolen your first wallet, there is no going back.
You’ll want to do it again and again to feel the kick.”
A few days later, Ally volunteers herself, even though she really
doesn’t want to. She isn’t sure she has it in her, and she is terrified of
getting caught.
 She walks up to a couple that are clearly tourists (fanny packs, T-
shirts that say Ron Jon’s, that look in their eyes that tells you they
have no idea where they are going). They are standing at the
intersection at Minutemen, looking clueless, when the girls nudge
Ally along.
Ally smiles kindly. “Are you looking for something?”
The man looks at Ally. “Yes. Yes we are. We want to find a nice
place to eat. Do you know any around here?”
“Heidi’s just opened on the corner over there. I don’t know if it
has good food, though,” she says, sounding nice and polite.
Meanwhile, the other girls giggle behind her as her hands creep
into the woman’s purse and pull out a wallet. Ally’s hands are
sweaty. Her heart is racing. She has never done anything like this
before. Her hands are shaking heavily as she pulls it out and places
it inside the pocket of her neon windbreaker that she wears
backwards like Kris Kross. Her forehead is itching underneath her
bandana.
“Thank you, dearie,” the woman says.
“You’re welcome. By the way…”
“Yes?”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re fat?”
The woman looks at the man like she expects him to clarify what
she just heard. “Excuse me?”
The girls are giggling loudly behind her now. It makes her feel
strong and more self-confident to know they are with her. She wants
to show them. She wants to earn their respect and her worth in the
group.
“Did you just tell my wife that she is fat?” the man says.
Ally smiles like he has heard her wrong. “No, no, no. That’s not
what I meant. I meant you’re both very overweight. You really should
consider exercising or maybe lay off the donuts a little, huh?”
Ally pokes the woman’s belly, then laughs. “See. It’s not
supposed to move like that.”
The man steps up. He gets threatening. Ally stays in position. It is
all about not showing fear now. The man’s face turns red.
“Why. You little…”
 He swings out his hand with the intention of slapping her face,
but Ally ducks and he misses. Instead, she throws a punch as hard
as she can and knocks the air out of him. He gasps and bends
forward, then falls to his knees. The woman lifts her hands in the air
and screams.
“Help! Police! Help!”
Ally stares nervously at the man and realizes what she has done.
Then she looks at her girls for approval. They all laugh. Especially
AK seems captivated by the situation. She walks up to the man, who
is still on all fours, and kicks him in the stomach. The man screams
in pain. Ally looks at him, terrified.
What have I done?
“We gotta go now,” one of the girls yells. “We’re attracting too
much attention.”
The girls take turns to throw one last punch each into the man’s
stomach before they flee the place.
While running, Ally is happy to realize she now has the approval
of the group. No one will ever question her again. Not only has she
convinced the girls that she is capable of almost anything and getting
away with it, she has also discovered a new side to herself.
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

SEPTEMBER 2015

Ia cook all afternoon, much to my stepmother’s irritation. I am making

mess of the place, and when she peeks in now and then, she does
nothing but send an annoyed sigh my way before she leaves, and
soon after my dad comes into the kitchen and tells me to remember
to clean up after myself.
That little spectacle goes on for a few hours, while I create so
many dishes I could open a restaurant. Cooking helps me relax; it
makes me forget all the bad emotions, all the frustrations from
arguing with Joey again. Even all the sadness from knowing my
brother might end up in prison, along with the sorrow from knowing
Danny lost his wife in such a brutal manner last night, and the worry
that Salter will never want to live with me again. I try not to think
about it, but I am certain that he will choose his dad over me, and
then what do I do?
There is a lot going on inside of me, to put it mildly. And the
cooking takes all that away for a few hours. It makes me clear my
mind. It is my yoga, my meditation, if you will.
Around four o’clock, I take the car to pick up Salter. I take both
him and Joey with me to Alex’s place. We don’t speak to one
another the entire drive there, only Salter babbles on about how he
and his dad went fishing in the river and he almost caught a rainbow
trout, but it got away from him, and how he wishes he could do that
every day.
 “That’s great, honey,” I say, not really listening. My mind is
elsewhere. I am thinking about the argument and the emotions that
have once again been ripped up between Joey and me. I am
beginning to long for Manhattan and my quiet life up there. Except I
don’t look forward to facing unemployment with no money in the
bank. I am spending the last of my savings on Blake’s lawyer, and I
don’t like to think about what is going to happen after that.
“Could you help me with the food?” I ask both of them, as we
park the car in front of Alex’s beach house on 7th Street. He can
peek over to my dad’s house on the other side of A1A. It was a little
overkill to drive there, but there is no way I could have carried all this
food.
It is amusing that Alex now actually lives on 7th Street. Growing
up, we always made fun of Alex because he lived on 6th, whereas
the rest of us lived on 7th. We would always tease him—lovingly of
course—and call him an outsider, a loser, since he wasn’t a real 7th
Streeter. Living on this street now means he is almost a neighbor to
Sandra, which to me is a little odd. He and Sandra used to have a
thing for each other back in the day. I wonder if they ever think of
each other in the same way they used to. I never understood what
went wrong with them, why they didn’t end up together. They were
so perfect for each other, and we all thought they would become a
couple, but it never happened.
I am about to ring the doorbell, my hands full of lasagna and
burritos, when Joey walks in front of me, grabs the handle, and
opens the door.
“Around here, we just walk in,” he says. “But I guess you’ve
forgotten about that. Or maybe you’re too tired or too busy to care?”
Ouch!
I think long and hard for a comeback, but unfortunately I have
never been fast at those things. I can always come up with
something a few days later, something real clever and witty, but
never in the moment. I often wonder if people will think it weird if I
call them a few weeks later and give them the line.
Joey walks inside. Salter and I follow. Everyone is there. Alex,
Sandra and her husband Ryan, Marcia and four kids I assume are
hers, since they look just like her. Danny and Junior are there too,
and even Chloe.
“Mary!” Alex says. “I want you to meet my wife, Maria.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say and smile at the woman in front of me.
She is short and has long black hair that she obviously dyes. She
has pretty blue eyes. She seems nice. I guess I could approve of her
for Alex, even though I always wanted him to be with Sandra. Alex is
a sweet guy. He needs a sweet woman.
“I would shake your hand, but…well, they’re both pretty full, as
you can see.”
“Where are my manners?” Alex says and grabs the food out of
my hands.
“I made some for tonight,” I say, “and then a lot for the freezer.
You know, for Danny and Junior and all of you. To help you out.”
“That is very nice of you,” Maria says with a smile. “Here, let me
take the rest.” Maria grabs the dishes Salter is carrying.
I look at all the familiar faces and feel slightly emotional. It has
been a long time since the crew was back together. I miss every one
of them, but at the same time seeing them again, together like this,
overwhelms me with a deep sadness as well. I am not sure I can
cope with it. I am suddenly not sure I am ready. The thing is, I am not
sure I will ever be.
I spot Danny and walk up to him, drawing in a deep breath. I
have to get over myself. This night isn’t about me or how I feel. It is
about him and his son and being there for them, no matter what.
That’s the deal with friends, right? They are there for you no matter
what.
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

SEPTEMBER 2015

“
Iapproach
know you’ve probably
Danny.
gotten this question a lot,” I say as I

He is sitting in a barstool at the breakfast bar, scratching the label

on his beer. Meanwhile, it seems that everyone else is somehow
moving around him and not talking directly to him. He looks up.
“How are you holding up?” I ask and sit down on a barstool next
to him. The expression on his face is rough to take in. Those eyes
and the deep sadness in them almost make me cry.
Oh, you’re such a crybaby, Mary. Pull yourself together.
“Actually, you’re the first one to ask me that since I got here,” he
answers. “The rest are only asking me if I want something to eat or
drink. Apparently, people think food can make pain go away or
something.”
I blush. “Yeah, well…some people can be so insensitive. Pah.
Food. As if that ever made you happier.”
“Exactly,” he says. “The last thing I want right now is to eat.”
Wow. Right to my face, huh? That’s okay. I can take it. I’m a big
girl.
“Yeah, well. You still didn’t answer my question.”
He scoffs. “How am I holding up? Right now I’m just trying to stay
on this stool, sit still, and hold onto this beer. I want to drink it. I want
to drink all of the beers in Alex’s fridge. I want to get so drunk I can’t
feel anything, but I can’t get myself to do it. It feels wrong. I feel like I
need to grieve and feel the grief, if you know what I mean? I keep
thinking I deserve to feel pain.”
He pauses and looks first down at his beer, then back up at me.
“You know what it’s like,” he says. “Like back when…”
Danny pauses. I stare at him, hoping, praying that he won’t finish
the sentence. Luckily, he doesn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he says and drinks from his beer.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I still don’t like to talk about it. Maybe I will
one day. I don’t know.”
Awkward silence between us. I sip my beer and throw a glance
around the room. Junior is sitting in the corner on a couch while the
other kids are storming around. Salter is playing with Marcia’s many
kids, having a blast, it seems.
“You just wonder, you know?” Danny says.
I look at back him. He is ripping of parts of the label on his beer.
“Who would do this to her? You wouldn’t believe how much blood
there was on the porch. A pair of scissors? I mean, come on. That’s
brutal!”
“It sure is,” I say, trying not to picture Jean lying on the porch in a
pool of blood with a pair of scissors in her throat. It is hard not to.
“What do the police say?”
“Not much so far. But they don’t believe she was a random victim.
It wasn’t a burglary gone wrong.”
“Wow. So brutal murder, huh? Do you have any idea who might
have had it in for her? I mean, did she have any enemies or
anything? Someone she pissed off? A neighbor or something?”
Danny scoffs. “You knew Jean. Probably half the town had it in
for her. People hated her.”
I nod and drink again. I am glad he said it so I don’t have to. “May
I ask what you liked about her?”
He looks at me. I regret the question. Have I gone too far?
Me and my big mouth!
Then he laughs. Waves of relief go through my body.
“She had a great body,” he says. “Yes, you heard me. I was that
superficial. I took her because she was gorgeous back then. I
wanted to have sex with her so bad, and then she got pregnant. It
wasn’t like I had much of a choice. It was the right thing to marry
her.”
I throw a glance back at Junior on the couch. It makes sense.
The boy is about eighteen now, ready to graduate high school.
“So, do they have any clues?” I ask.
He shrugs. “They say they believe the person can’t have been
very tall. Something about the angle of the scissors or something. I
have to admit, I can’t remember. It’s all a blur. I just really hope they
find whoever did this. Mostly for Junior. To give him closure, you
know?”
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

FEBRUARY 1978

B y the time she turns one year old, Penelope has had her baby to
a myriad of doctors, but they still don’t know what is wrong with her.
The baby can hardly hold any food down and she hasn’t grown much
in her entire year of being alive, much to her parents’ and the
doctors’ concern.
Finally, after a year of running from doctor to doctor, one of them
concludes it has to be her heart, or it could be her heart are his exact
words.
The diagnosis, even if it is vague, makes Penelope at ease
finally. She is weary and tired of telling all the doctors that she
believes something is wrong with the baby’s heart, but no one
believes her. They keep telling her the baby’s heart is fine, but the
heart palpitations and weight loss tell her a different story.
“So, what do we do next?” she asks the doctor. “Will surgery be
necessary?”
The doctor lets out a deep sigh. “She is still so very young.” He
looks at the baby in her mother’s arms. She is able to sit on her own,
but no crawling or even standing up like other children her age. Her
legs simply aren’t strong enough yet. And she is way too sick to be
moving around, let alone be with other children. It is too risky.
“We usually don’t operate on children this young, if we can help
it,” he says. “But based on the tests we have so far, I’m thinking it
might be necessary to do a heart catheterization procedure in time.
In a child who has a congenital heart defect, a heart catheterization
shows how the blood is flowing through the heart. The exact heart
problem can be seen, and sometimes treated during the same
procedure or a later one. If your child has a complex heart defect, he
or she might need a combination of surgery and catheterization to
treat it. But, as I said, it is very unusual to perform this procedure on
such a young child. It has never been done before, as far as I have
been informed. You might need to wait a few years till she is older.”
“But, Doctor, we don’t have a few years. If something is wrong
with her heart, she needs the surgery now,” Penelope argues.
She glances at the empty chair next to her where Peter is
supposed to sit. He wasn’t able to come with them this morning to
get the results. He has lost too many hours at work running to
doctors constantly. Penelope can’t wait to tell him that, finally, she
has found a doctor who believes her. Their baby is sick and she isn’t
just a hysterical mother.
The doctor looks at the baby again. “It’s too risky,” he says.
Penelope scoffs. “How can you say that? She might die if she
doesn’t get the surgery now! Look at her. She is very sick.”
The doctor sighs again. He touches the bridge of his nose.
“I think we should wait and see, maybe give it six months, then
run more tests. She needs to be at least three years old before I
would dare to do a procedure like this on her.”
Penelope stares at the doctor. How can he say that? Three years
old? That is two years from now.
“But…but, Doctor…just this morning she threw up again. She can
hardly hold anything down. She is so weak. I can’t stand it. Please.
Could you just perform the surgery? I’m willing to take the risk. Any
risk. Anything to help my baby get better. Please, Doctor. I’m
desperate here.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I won’t risk her life. Come back in six months
and we’ll have a look at her and see how she’s doing. We’ll monitor
her closely for the next couple of years. If she’s not better by the age
of three, we’ll do the procedure.”
“You can’t risk her life?” Penelope says and stands up. “That is
exactly what you’re doing. If my baby dies, it’s your fault.”
The doctor gesticulates, resigned. “I’m sorry, but…”
 Penelope snorts angrily as she opens the door. “Well, if you won’t
do it, then I’ll find a doctor who will,” she says and walks out.
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

SEPTEMBER 2015

W e end up getting drunk. Danny and I sneak outside on the porch

to get away from the others and all their pity-looks. They mean well.
We know they do, but it’s just not what Danny needs right now.
Danny decides it is all right to get wasted, and he is in charge
tonight. I find a bottle of whiskey in Alex’s kitchen and start spicing
our drinks up a little. I figure we both need it.
The more drunk Danny gets, the more he opens up to me about
his marriage and how awful it was. It is a relief for me to hear and I
can tell it helps him to talk about it.
“I wanted to leave her, Mary,” he says. “I did. I thought about it so
many times. But I was a wimp. I should have left her years ago. You
want to know the funny part?”
“Sure,” I say and pour each of us another whiskey. We both drink
and he looks at me with his bloodshot eyes.
“I was afraid of her. Can you believe that? I was such a wimp, I
didn’t dare to leave her. I was terrified of what she would do. I was so
scared she would keep Junior from me, you know? I would never be
able to handle that.”
“You probably shouldn’t tell this to the police,” I say, laughing. “It
kind of gives you a motive.”
Danny stares at me, then bursts into laughter. We laugh for a little
while, then stop and sit in silence. Each lost in our own train of
thought.
“So, how’s Blake?” he finally asks.
 In the distance, I can hear the waves crashing. I think about my
dad and Laura. They are going to be pissed that we’ll be getting
back so late.
Screw them. I’m not a child anymore.
“Awful,” I say. “He’s in that terrible prison halfway to Orlando, and
I don’t think he will survive it. I’ve got to get him out somehow. The
thing is, they have a murder weapon and a witness. Pretty solid
case, if you ask me. I’m spending all my savings, the last of my
money, on his lawyer.”
“What do you mean the last of your money?” he asks. “I thought
you were a big time reporter at The New York Times?”
I scoff. “Not anymore. I just got sacked a few days ago.”
“What? You got fired?”
“Keep it down,” I say, and look through the sliding glass-doors
behind me. The others are sitting around the table. Alex’s daughter,
Ava, who I met earlier, is playing on an iPad. Three of Marcia’s kids
are sleeping on the couch, the last playing with a truck on the floor.
Junior and Salter are watching TV.
“I haven’t told anyone. Not even my dad and Laura.”
I sip my whiskey and enjoy the burning sensation in my throat. I
close my eyes, hoping it will make it all go away. My brother in jail,
my separation from Joey, me fearing the future since I got fired, the
terrible memories being brought back to life ever since I stepped into
that house again. All of it. I just want it to be gone.
“There you both are. Hey, guys, they’re out here!”
Marcia has opened the door and peeks out. “We were all
wondering where you two were.” She is holding a plastic cup in her
hand. By the look of how she is swaying from side to side, it isn’t
soda she has inside of it.
Well, who am I to talk? I suddenly feel nausea overwhelm me.
Danny doesn’t look too well either.
“Maybe we should go inside,” he says, and gets up from the
small couch where we have been sitting.
When I rise to my feet, I feel dizzy and have to hold on to the wall
behind me. “I think I’ve had enough,” I say with a giggle. I am way
more drunk than I had thought.
 We follow Marcia inside, where the rest of the crew is sitting
around all the food and chips. They’re talking. Sandra smiles when
she sees me. We used to be inseparable in high school.
“Come, join us,” she says.
I shake my head. “I think I’ve had enough. We need to go home.”
Danny stumbles towards me and gives me a heavy bear hug. I
close my eyes and enjoy it. Danny has always been one of my
favorites. Always so kind to others, so loving. It isn’t fair that he has
had such a lousy life as a grown-up.
“Let us know if there is anything we can do to help you with
Blake,” he says when he lets go. “Have you spoken to Olivia yet?”
I frown. “Olivia?”
Danny look surprised. “Blake didn’t tell you about her?”
“No.”
“He was seeing her. You remember Olivia, don’t you? I think she
is married now, right, Alex?”
Alex nods. “Yeah. To some general in the army. What’s his
name?”
“Hartman,” Joey says.
“That’s it.” Alex snaps his fingers. “Olivia Hartman is her name
now. It started out being all about the sex, but I think Blake was in
over his head a little here.”
“What do you mean?”
“He committed the only sin you cannot commit when being with a
married woman,” Danny says. “He fell in love with her.”
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