Seven, eight ... Gonna stay up late (Rebekka Franck #4) (6 page)

Camilla was
usually
a very confident girl. She had good reason to
be. She had grown up in a very wealthy family living in Klampenborg, one of the
most prominent and expensive addresses in the country. She had gone to some of
the best schools in the country and always hung out with people of her own
class. She had lived a very protected life and never met anyone who wanted to
harm her in any way. Everybody wanted to please her, since they knew that the
way to her father's heart went through his daughter. She always considered her
parents to be smothering and too overprotective when they told her to not go
out on her own at night, when they told her to be careful of whom she talked
to. She didn't consider the world a dangerous place.

But during the last two days Camilla lost a lot
of that confidence and trust in the world surrounding her. She was used to
doing what she wanted to, since her parents were never home and when they were
they hardly noticed her anymore, so she had done pretty much exactly what she
wanted to the last couple of years. But for the first time something had gone
wrong. Terribly wrong, she now realized standing with her friends listening to
the band on stage, drinking the beer a guy named Kasper bought her, hoping he'd
get lucky later. Camilla's eyes scanned the tent nervously. Maybe a hundred
teenagers were present, the rest of the festival was at the big stage listening
to that old guy with the guitar, Camilla had hardly heard of. She hadn't heard
of Suicide Silence either, but two boys they met on the first day had told them
that they "just had to be there." Camilla was a party-girl, she
enjoyed to get drunk and dance, but she was more a fan of pop-music than this
death core. She hardly noticed the music right now, though, since all she could
think of was Amalie and every time someone entered the tent, she would gasp and
look to see if it was her. The band had been playing for almost half an hour
now and there was still no sign of Amalie.

Camilla had begun wondering if she should just
pack her belongings and go back home, but how was she supposed to explain it to
Amalie's father? That she lost her? He thought they were both on Camilla's
dad's yacht sailing protected and guarded on the ocean around Zeeland, just
like they did every year at this time. Was she supposed to tell him that they
hadn't done it the last two years? That they instead had gone to the festival,
smoking, drinking, dancing, out among "ordinary" people? Camilla
shivered at the very thought of having to face Amalie's father. She was afraid
of what he would do, to her, to her father. The man could ruin her father’s
life and career in a matter of seconds. He could ruin their entire lives. And
he would. In his anger, he would. That was the nature of Amalie's father. That
was his way of dealing with things.

Camilla felt an anger rise inside of her as she
drank more of her beer. Damn that Amalie, she thought. She was so selfish,
always so egocentric. She was probably with someone else, someone she had just
met, maybe even a guy and never thought to contact Camilla. She never cared
about her emotions, about how she felt.

Camilla sighed deeply feeling the tears press on
from behind. Camilla loved Amalie. She loved her more than you love a friend.
She was
in love
with her. She had
been for many years, almost as long as Camilla could remember. Amalie of course
didn't know. The very first time Camilla kissed her at a party at a friend’s
house, she had laughed and kissed her back, whispering
Great idea, let's stir things up a little, let's give
them something to talk about.
Thinking Camilla had only done it
because she was bored and wanted to shock the dull rich kids at the party,
Amalie grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. Camilla enjoyed it more
than anything in her entire life and to this very day she still remembered the
way the kiss had tasted. The second time Camilla kissed her, Amalie hadn't
taken it nearly as nicely. They were at Amalie's house watching a movie in the
living room, when suddenly Camilla couldn't resist her lips any longer and had
to taste them once again.

"What the hell?" Amalie had screamed.

Camilla had blushed, then pulled away not
knowing what to say. Her desire to kiss her again and hold her tight, their
naked bodies pulsating against each other, was overwhelming, almost
overpowering.

"Why did you do that?" Amalie had
asked.  "Are you a fucking dyke?"

At that instant Camilla wanted to hit Amalie.
Knock her down for not wanting her as badly as she wanted Amalie. For not
loving her in the same way she loved her.

"No," she said, instead insinuating
with her tone that a dyke had to be the worst thing in the world to be. "Are
you?"

"Hell no," Amalie said while wiping
her mouth with her sleeve.

"Just checking," Camilla had said.

Amalie stared at her for a long time. Then her
facial expression changed. Then they both burst into laughter. Camilla had
forced it through the feeling of her heart being ripped open. Since then she
never tried to kiss Amalie again.

While standing in the tent listening to this
infernal music, staring at the entrance like it was some sort of secret gateway
to a magic place where they kept beautiful women who mysteriously vanished,
Camilla slowly lost hope of ever seeing her beloved friend again. She tried
hard to remember that soft kiss they once shared at the party, the salty taste
of her red lips. Staring at the entrance she felt the tears beginning to run
down her cheeks when her eyes suddenly met those of someone who had just
entered the tent. He was wearing shiny shoes and expensive pants and a white
shirt. That alone made him stand out. But that wasn't what caught Camilla's eye
and made her keep staring at him. It wasn't his good looks either. It was what
he was holding in his right hand. She immediately recognized the five thousand
dollars cover with its twenty-two VVS1 diamonds, a total of three and a half
carats.

It was Amalie's phone.

Allan loved the
band. The music was intoxicating as were the lyrics to their songs, he thought
as he entered the tent and walked directly towards the stage. This was
wonderful, he thought. The perfect setting. He couldn't have chosen it better
himself.

He marched right up to the stage and pushed
aside some drunk longhaired dancing fans, just a small push was enough to make
room for himself. He had come for Camilla, yes. But there was time enough to
enjoy the music as well, he figured. Everything in its proper time. It was
after all one of his favorite moments to it all, finding the girl and figuring
the proper way to snatch her without anyone seeing it. Just like everything
else about killing, it was an art form, really. Unfortunately not very many
like him were very good at it. It aggravated him how loosely some would take
this part of the killing. Like it wasn't of importance. They didn't understand
that if you were ever to be taken seriously, if you were to go down in history
and be admired properly for your work, you needed to attend to every little
detail. Everything you did, how you comported yourself was of the utmost
importance. Only the true artists understood that. There was no easy way to
become something in this life. It was all hard work and talent. Allan was very
talented. He was great at staging it, at orchestrating the disappearance of yet
another poor innocent victim.  

He clapped when the band stopped singing and a
new song started. He felt her eyes on him and her slowly approaching as he knew
she would once she spotted the extremely expensive phone cover in his hand. No
one else would notice, since Allan was the kind of guy who would buy such a
cover, or at least Sebastian would buy it for him, but it didn't look strange
in his hand. His appearance, his clothes matched it even if he did stand out in
this crowd. But Camilla would notice. She was the only one who knew. She would
come to him. Allan chuckled while singing along very loud.

"
The
ragged they come ... and the ragged they kill! You pray so hard on bloody knees
..." the band sang.

Allan closed his eyes while sensing her moving
closer and closer. He kept his eyes closed and imagined her face, her eyes full
of fear and dread. Oh the joy, oh the expectation. He opened his eyes and
looked at the lead singer while he sang: "
The
ragged they come and the ragged they kill ..."

She was right behind him now. "
I'm the one you wanted. Hey. Yeah. I'm your super
beast
," he continued to sing.

He was so certain she was there. He could almost
hear her breath. She was probably wondering now. Debating within herself.
Should she disturb him? Poke him on the shoulder and ask him outside and then
ask how he got a hold of her friend's phone? Or should she wait a little
longer? Observe him a little while longer before she confronted him? Ah a
difficult dilemma, Allan thought to himself while dancing slowly to the music.
He was waiting with great anticipation. What was she going to chose? Did she
dare to talk to him? He could after all be dangerous. You never knew these
days. Her parents had always warned her against strangers, and warned her not
to go out on her own at night. But the parents weren't here, were they? And she
was desperate now. She had to know what happened to her friend. She had only
one day to figure it out before she would have to come clean. She was in a
hurry to find her friend. Allan chuckled happily while thinking of Amalie in
the plastic box in the cellar of his house. It had been many years since he had
enjoyed something that much. Well come to think of it, maybe he never enjoyed
anything as much as this. This was like the frosting on the cake. He had been
preparing for this for years and years, eating the dry cake underneath and now
he came to the best part. It was so sweet, so delicious even more delightful
than he had dared to anticipate while dreaming of it, while fantasizing in the
bed at night in the dormitory at the boarding school, when being raped again
and again by the older students who thought of him as a freak who needed to be
kept down. It was back then he had begun planning this masterpiece of his. It
was going to be absolutely perfect.

The song ended and she still hadn't poked him on
the shoulder.
Chosen to wait, huh?
He thought to himself. It told him a lot about her as a person. She was smarter
than he thought. More calculating, even under pressure. 

Allan clapped his hands, then turned around on
his heel and looked directly into the eyes of Camilla. He noticed how she
gasped as their eyes met. He felt a chill of pleasure across his skin and had
to restrain himself from giggling with joy. Instead he pretended he didn't know
her, gave her one of his most endearing smiles, then walked right past her.

He felt her eyes on his back as he walked out of
the tent.

"Come on, little girl, follow the yellow
brick road," he mumbled while walking, quoting one of his favorite
childhood movies.

Camilla felt
indecisive.
She had been looking at the man's back
through an entire song now, not knowing what to do. He had Amalie's phone, there
was no doubt about it. Once she had gotten a little closer to it, she was
certain. Even if the guy looked like someone who could afford a phone cover
like that, it wasn't his. Camilla knew Amalie's phone enough to also know that
there was a diamond missing in the right corner on the back. This was also the
case with the one the man was holding. That was hardly a coincidence. But then
the man turned and looked directly at Camilla, smiled and walked out of the
tent. It had taken her completely by surprise. His smile was nice and warm and
as she stood watching him leave the tent, she felt compelled to run after him.
He didn't seem like the type who could in any way hurt Amalie or even stolen
the phone from her. But how come he was holding it? Had he found it somewhere?
Whatever the reason, Camilla knew she had to talk to him. She had to ask him if
he knew anything about where her friend could be. So she followed him outside.
She walked a few steps behind him as he crossed the area and walked towards the
Orange Stage where that old guy played his guitar. The man wasn't walking very
fast and Camilla didn't find it hard to follow him without him realizing it.
She had always been good at sneaking around.

The man jumped elegantly over a huge mud pile
and Camilla did the same. The music from the big stage became louder. She had
to react now, before he disappeared in the crowd of people and while she was
still able to talk to him without her words drowning in the music.

"Hey!" she yelled.

The man kept walking. Was he pretending to not
hear her? Or didn't he think she was talking to him. "Hey, you in the nice
pants," she yelled and began to run to catch up with him.

He seemed to slow down a little. She ran towards
him. As she was almost there, he turned his head like an owl and stared at her.
Camilla stopped. Then he smiled widely.

"Are you following me, little girl?"
he asked. "You shouldn't be running around out here all alone."

"I need to talk to you. I need to ask you
something," Camilla said.

"How delightful," the man said.
"To have the pleasure of such beautiful company. How may I be of service
to you?"

Camilla smiled and blushed at his comment.
Nobody ever called her beautiful before. Amalie was the beautiful one. Camilla
was just, well more just the awkward friend. At least that was how she viewed
herself. She relaxed slightly. The man seemed nice. Then she approached him.
"It's just that ... well I couldn't help but noticing that you have my
friend's phone in your hand."

The man looked at the phone in his hand. "Ah,
you mean this?" He held it up so she could see it better.

Yes, that was Amalie's phone for sure.
"That's my friend's phone."

"Well that's good then," he said.
"I was wondering who it belonged to. I found it just before over there by
the campground. It was on the ground between two tents. I thought with such an
expensive looking cover that someone would be missing it. You say it's your
friend's?"

Camilla sighed deeply. The man didn't know what
happened to Amalie after all. But at least she now had an answer to why Amalie
hadn't called her back or even replied when she called her. She had lost her
phone. Maybe she was with someone she had met after all, but had no phone to
call her friend and let her know where she was? The thought gave her some
relief.

"Yes. She must have dropped it. I haven't
seen her since Thursday and I have to admit that I have been a little worried
about her."

The man tilted his head. "You say that you
haven't seen her since Thursday?"

"Yes. I mean no. I haven't. I'm beginning
to fear that something happened to her. That's why I needed to ask you about
the phone. You said you found it at the campground?"

"Yes. Just a little while ago. I was
walking across the grounds to get here."

"Can I see it?"

The man smiled, then handed her the phone.
"Well of course. Here you go."

Camilla held the phone for a while then looked
up at the man. He was still smiling. He was very handsome, especially when he
smiled.

"Why is there blood on it?" she asked.

"Is there? Oh my. I hadn't even noticed.
You don't think ..." The man gasped. "You don't think it's
her
blood, do you?"

Camilla felt the tears pile up, then swallowed
hard to try and hold it back.

"Oh my, little girl. You're getting upset
now." The man wiped away her tear with his thumb. "Here let me help
you ..." he said and fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out a silk
handkerchief and wiped her tears with it. It smelled bad, Camilla thought and
tried to pull away. Then the man grabbed her neck and pulled her closer, she
let out a small shriek before he covered her mouth and nose with the
handkerchief and soon Camilla saw nothing than the stars of a deep dream.