There's no place like HOME (Emma Frost Book 8) (10 page)

“I’ll be fine. Just go.”

“Are you sure? I have a meeting, but I could reschedule if you need me to?” he said.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine here. I’m more than fine. I love this house. I love spending time here. I can’t wait to get everything into place. I feel so good about this house. I feel so safe here.”

Jacob smiled gently. Then he leaned over and kissed her. He opened the front door and stepped outside. Then he turned and looked at his wife again.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s going to be a wonderful life for us here. Just you, me and Emil. I can just feel how perfect it’s going to be.”

Sitting in his car on the street, watching Christine kiss her husband goodbye in the doorway, Jesper Melander couldn’t agree more.

“It
is
going to be perfect,” he whispered.

26

July 2014

T
HE NEWSPAPERS WERE
all over the story about the angry father in the days after our visit to his house. They still were on it the following Friday morning when I sat in my kitchen going through the headlines.

The story about Jonas Boegh, who defended a rapist and got him free, seemed to be their favorite. Their next favorite was the story about the father allegedly avenging the daughter by killing Jonas. They were all theories, of course, but all the articles stated that the police were seriously looking into the matter. I had no idea how they knew about Paul Beckman. Neither did Morten, and it annoyed him immensely. He had been in a bad mood for days now, and I was getting a little annoyed with him. Especially the night before when he came to dinner. Once the kids finished eating, I started asking about the investigation.

“What about the shoes?” I asked. “Has anyone looked into that?”

“Enough with those shoes. What is it with you and the shoes?” he snapped at me.

It was unusual for me to hear him talk in a tone like that. He was always so calm and gentle.

“I just think it might be a good clue, that’s all. If you can find where the killer bought them, then maybe they can describe him, or even tell you who he is.”

“It’s a pair of shoes,” Morten said. “There are a lot of shoe stores in this country. Do you seriously suggest that I contact all of them and ask about the shoes? I’m sorry. But I don’t have time for that. It has been mentioned in all the papers, and on TV, and that has to do for now.”

I sensed that he wanted me to leave it alone, so I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about Paul Beckman and his bad temper. I had been digging a little into his background, and knew he had been arrested more than once in bar-fights, and he had beaten his ex-wife’s new husband with a baseball bat once. I had my serious doubts about his alibi as well. It was a little too easy, I thought, and kept arguing with Morten about it.

“He could have done it anyway,” I said.

“That might be, Morten argued. “But I have to stay with the facts, and there is nothing linking him to the killings. No blood, no DNA, no fingerprints, not even a shoeprint. Nothing places him at the scene of crime. Plus, his boss tells me he was on the road at the time of the killings.”

“But he has a very good motive,” I grunted.

“He does. But he is right. It doesn’t make sense to kill the lawyer. He would have killed the boy instead.”

I shrugged. It was a good point, but it had been his point and maybe just a clever excuse. “Maybe he’s next? Maybe he’s just waiting for everything to calm down a little, and then he can go after the kid. Get them both while he’s at it.”

Morten didn’t want to discuss it anymore, so I left it alone. The atmosphere after that was tense and bad. We hardly spoke the rest of the dinner, and afterwards, Morten left, telling me he had promised to come home to Jytte right after work.

My guess was that he didn’t tell her he came here to dinner. Probably so he wouldn’t have to argue with her about it. It was getting more and more ridiculous.

As I sat in my kitchen Friday morning and enjoyed my morning coffee, Sophia stopped by, and we talked for an hour or so. I told her about my troubles with Morten. It felt good to get it off my chest. I needed to talk to someone about it.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “Stepchildren can be so much trouble. I went through that same thing with a guy I dated. He was, like, obsessed with keeping her happy, and she did not like me, so needless to say, we had to split up.”

I stared at her. I really didn’t want to have to split up. I hadn’t really thought it would go that far, but now I was starting to.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I’m sure you guys will figure it out. I mean, come on. It’s Morten and Emma, right? They always figure things out.”

“I hope so. I really do. Tonight he’s going to her birthday party, and I’m not invited.”

“That’s rough,” Sophia said.

I exhaled and finished my cup. Maya came into the kitchen and grabbed a cup. She had started drinking coffee when the amnesia thing happened. I felt sad as I watched her drink it. Everything was changing, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I wanted to go back to the way it used to be. I wanted everybody to go back to who they used to be.

27

July 2014

“
W
ELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD!”

Jesper Melander could hardly hide his excitement. He was smiling from ear to ear as he lifted up the gift basket he had wrapped himself before coming to the house.

The woman he knew was called Christine looked at him, startled. Her husband stood right behind her in the doorway.

“Who are you?” the man asked, pushing himself in front of her.

“I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood by giving you this basket. Sorry, I’m Jesper.”

Jacob shook his hand reluctantly. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Jesper said with a grin. He was wearing black sunglasses, even though it was dark. He could tell how it confused them that they were not able to see his eyes.

“It’s a little late,” Jacob said, looking at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Ah, come on,” Jesper said. He walked closer to the door, still grinning. “Never too late for a nightcap with your new neighbor is it?”

They looked at each other. Jesper took off the glasses. It helped. Made them feel safer. “I brought you some rum. It’s from Guatemala. Supposed to be the best in the world, they say.”

“Well, that is awfully nice of you,” Jacob said. “I guess we could have a glass. It is, after all, Friday.”

Jacob stepped away from the door and let Jesper inside. “Christine, you know where everything is. Could you find us some glasses?”

“Sure,” she said, and walked to the kitchen.

Jesper studied her every move. “Quite a beauty you’ve got yourself there, huh? Lucky guy.”

Jacob relaxed further. Flattery always made people feel more comfortable.

“So, a brand new house, huh? I love new houses. It’s like a clean slate, right? Start all over. The beginning of something new and wonderful.”

Christine returned, carrying two glasses. She put them down with an insecure smile. “Thank you,” Jesper said. “You’re not having anything?”

She shook her head shyly. “No,” she said, and touched her belly without realizing it.

“Ah, I see,” Jesper said.

“I’m going to bed; I’m tired,” Christine said.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be up in little while.”

“No need to hurry. We don’t want to offend our new neighbor. Good neighbors are hard to find,” she said, and kissed him gently on the cheek before she turned around and disappeared.

Jesper stared after her. He felt thrilled. He could hardly believe his luck. The woman was pregnant. They didn’t come any more beautiful and innocent than that. He couldn’t have planned it better himself. Oh, the beauty of this. He could hardly restrain himself.

His heart was beating fast and he was breathing heavily, as he pulled out the bottle of rum from the basket and opened it.

“Then, I guess it’s just for the two of us, then,” he said, and started pouring. He lifted his glass. “To good neighbors,” he said, and they toasted.

“To good neighbors,” Jacob answered.

“Ah. That’s good stuff, huh?” Jesper said, after having emptied his glass.

Jacob had only sipped a little bit of his. Jesper laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Jacob asked.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that…well, I can’t wait till I see your face once you realize what else is in the basket. It’s just such a THRILL to meet new people, isn’t it?”

Jacob looked confused. He looked at the basket. Then he smiled. “Oh, there’s chocolate in there too?”

“YES!”

Jesper yelled so loud it made Jacob jump in his chair.

“But, there’s more…something I can’t wait to give that beautiful wife of yours. Something she can wear.”

Jacob looked baffled, then looked inside of the basket again. He pulled out a pair of ruby red slippers.

“What is this?” he asked.

At first, he smiled, but seconds later, Jesper watched as his facial expression changed drastically, probably when he remembered the shoes being mentioned in the news as being found on one of the recent victim’s bodies.

Jacob stared at Jesper with terror in his eyes, then threw the shoes on the floor. “What kind of a sick joke is this?” he asked, as he rose to his feet.

“Oh, it’s no joke,” Jesper said with a light laugh. “It’s not funny at all.”

“I think I have to ask you to leave my house immediately,” Jacob said.

Jesper tilted his head. “Now, tell me, dearie, how can you talk if you don’t have a brain?”

Jacob shook his head. “What are you talking about? Are you asking me a riddle? I think you’re mad. Please leave.”

Jesper didn’t laugh again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, then walked quickly towards Jacob. Jesper spotted a flicker of horror in the man’s eyes. Jacob tried to cover himself.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” he begged.

Jesper smiled and stroked his cheek. Oh, how he enjoyed these seconds. Those fragile rare seconds when his victims knew it was over, when they realized there was nothing they could say or do. He enjoyed the terror in their eyes while they searched for a way out, for a way to escape this certain fate of death. Jesper brought the knife to his throat, then sliced it with a satisfied groan.

While the blood rushed out of Jacob’s throat and onto the floor, Jesper held him against the wall, looking into his eyes, watching as the life was sucked out of him. Just before he let him fall to the ground, he whispered into his ear, “I don’t know either…but some people without brains do an awful lot of talking…don’t they?

28

July 2014

S
OPHIA HAD HER
mom stay with the kids and spent Friday evening at my house. We drank some wine and played cards, something we had started doing recently and enjoyed a lot. Jack came over as well, and joined us for a game of Whist.

What I had thought would be a terrible evening turned out to be quite nice. The three of us had fun. After two bottles of red wine and a couple of stronger drinks, we were getting quite drunk, especially me. I guess I just wanted to forget about my troubles with Morten and the fact that he was at that birthday party and I wasn’t invited.

“Why the heck didn’t he just tell that daughter of his that she had to invite you as well?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t know,” I said and took up a card.

“Well, I think he should have. Don’t you, Jack?”

Jack had kept very quiet when discussing Morten and me. His eyes met mine. I really wanted to hear his opinion.

“I…I…I d-d-don’t know,” he said.

I took a sip of my gin and tonic. Of course, he didn’t want to say anything bad about Morten. Jack never talked bad about anyone.

“But…I do know…that y-y-you d-deserve to be appreciated.”

“Aw, that’s such a sweet thing to say, Jack,” Sophia said. “He’s just such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

I bit my lip and nodded. Jack was looking at me intensely. I had always liked him. A lot.

“You’re up, Emma,” Sophia said.

My eyes left Jack’s, and I took another card from the stack. I hardly looked at it. I couldn’t escape this strange feeling. I looked up and my eyes locked with Jack’s. It was very intense. My heart was beating hard.

“Hello? Earth to Emma,” Sophia said. “It’s your move.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, and looked down at my cards again. I put a card down and emptied my glass.

Jack poured me another drink. Our legs touched under the table.

What am I doing?!

I sipped my drink. My head was spinning. I wondered about Morten and how his night was. He was probably out having a lot of fun with his daughter. I couldn’t believe how she had managed to come between us over the last several weeks. The way she had managed to keep him away from me was so frustrating. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it. The more I tried to discuss it with Morten, the further he moved away from me.

I looked at the clock on my stove. It was almost midnight. I had told Morten he could stop by and sleep here if he wanted to. He probably wasn’t coming. I looked at my phone as well, to see if he had called or at least texted me goodnight. But there was nothing. Sophia put her hand on my shoulder.

“Forget him,” she said. “If he really wants you, then no one can keep him from you. Not even his daughter.”

“But, what if he doesn’t want me enough?” I could hear my voice getting thick. I didn’t want to cry, but it was hard not to. I felt so sorry for myself. With everything I was going through with the kids, now I had to have trouble with him as well? I really didn’t need it. I really couldn’t take anymore. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Maybe I was just too tired. This week had been exhausting. Plus, it annoyed me that I hadn’t been able to get as much done on my next book as I wanted to. My editor was waiting for me to make the last corrections, but I couldn’t really get to it properly. An hour here and there didn’t amount to much. It was going to help when the kids went back to school. That was certain. But I really just wanted to have it done, so we could publish it, and I could move on with my life.