Easy as One Two Three (Emma Frost) (11 page)

"Someone whispered:
Easy as One, two, three
. Then Stephen heard Mads gasp and whimper and soon the voice started whispering numbers, telling him that his number of the day was four and that it meant that it was…," Rebekka looked into her notes and read out loud: 

"…
a demanding day that will require plenty of focus, but ultimately, it furthers your overall progress. Be careful not to make promises you can't keep
."

"That sounds strange," I said. "Can I see?"

Rebekka showed me what she had written on her pad. It was impossible to read her handwriting, so I accepted her word for it.

"He was very specific and remembered every word of it," Sune said. "I don't think anyone would lie about something like this."

"Well, you'd be surprised what people will lie about," Morten said. "I’ve seen stranger things than this."

"And what happened to Mads next?" I asked.

"Well, Stephen was certain someone was whispering this into Mads' ear and soon went quiet…maybe to await his response. Stephen believes that the same someone who had whispered also tried to hurt him. Mads was afraid of her, that was certain. He could hear him breathing heavily. Then he told her to leave him alone. She answered, ‘
no can do, sorry
.’"

"It was a her?" I asked, thinking about what Sascha DuBois had told me earlier in the day. "Is he certain of that?"

"Positive," Rebekka said.

"You said she tried to hurt him?" Morten asked. "How?"

"Stephen didn't know exactly, but it sounded like they were fighting in the darkness, and then Mads screamed like he was in pain. Somehow, he must have been able to get away from this person and run to the door and kick it open, because Stephen saw him as soon as the door opened and light entered…before everybody stormed out. It was Mads who kicked it open, but he had been hurt," Rebekka explained.

"How did he know that?" I asked.

Rebekka cleared her throat. "He was limping, Stephen told us. He was limping and holding a hand to his right thigh. Stephen was one of the few who stayed back when everyone else sprang for the door in panic. He wanted to see who had been fighting Mads, but there were too many people to see properly if someone was following him. But when the light from the outside hit the counter in the bar, Stephen saw a few drops of blood had dripped onto the floor underneath the stool where Mads had been sitting. He figured someone might have stabbed Mads in the leg before he ran."

"Let's check it out," I said and grabbed my jacket. I looked at Morten. "Are you coming?"

"Sure," he said and got up.

"Where are you going?" asked Rebekka.

"To the hospital."

28

April 2014

T
HEY HAD BEEN TAKING
more tests all morning, but still hadn't found a match. Mads was happy to realize it was harder to find a match for his organs than anticipated, due to his rare blood type. All morning, he had been moving the tip of his pinky frantically hoping that someone would see it, but still he had no such luck. He was starting to wonder if they were even looking for signs that his brain was working anymore or not. Maybe it was simply that once the doctor had declared a patient brain-dead, then everyone stopped looking for him not to be, they simply gave up all hope.

Now he listened in as two nurses were checking his monitors as usual and changing his IV fluid bags. They were chatting about their husbands and the talking made Mads feel at ease. He had become terrified of being left alone. The loneliness of being trapped inside of his own body was eating him up. He never knew when they were going to come for him and split him open. He was terrified of ending up in the ground, buried nine feet under dirt all alone.

But even more, he was terrified that the woman would come back. She had been there, whispering in his ear just like she had done on the day of the accident, when she had suddenly been whispering in his ear in the darkness of the theater lobby. Mads had never been so scared in his life. And now she was here; she knew he was in this bed, but worst of all…she knew he could hear her. She had seen the pinky move, she had to have seen it and then concluded that he could hear her. She knew and yet she didn't tell.

It was beyond cruel.

The nurses laughed and Mads heard their footsteps disappear. Soon followed the well-known sound of the door to his room being closed. He was alone once again in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts for company.

Mads tried to fill his mind with thoughts of happiness to avoid the panic. Most of the times he would go back to the day he met Signe, the happiest day of his life.

He knew her already when he spotted her sitting at the end of a dock at Karrebaeksminde Marina with her feet dangling over the edge and a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Mads had just gotten back from a trip with a friend on his mother's yacht and had just set foot on the dock when he spotted her sitting there. He had heard stories about her. She was the girl whose father had been imprisoned for touching little girls improperly in his classroom and everybody knew he had done bad things to his daughter as well. He knew she had been thrown out of every school she ever attended and now she had to work full-time at the hospital kiosk selling newspapers and get-well-cards. She was scum, the lowest of the lowest in the small society. She was trouble and the one everyone was told by their parents to stay away from.

And that was exactly what attracted him to her. She was different. Nothing like the girls his mother wanted him to be with. She was interesting and exciting. At that second, standing on the dock looking at her sitting there drinking her beer and smoking a cigarette, he felt so drawn to her.

She must have felt him staring at her because she turned her head and looked him in the eyes with that tough look that he later came to love and fear so much.

"What are you staring at, rich boy?" she asked.

Mads had blushed, but couldn't stop looking at her. Her face was so fair and delicate, the lips like small red cherries and her eyes were sparkling with anger and hatred for the world. It was enthralling.

"You," he simply answered.

She smoked her cigarette while looking at him and scrutinizing him. She frightened and captivated him at the same time. It was overpowering.

"Well, stop," she said, blowing out smoke through her nose. "It's freaking me out. If you want something, just say it, rich boy."

"Can I have a cigarette?" he asked with a shivering voice.

She looked up at him again, looking at him like she was about to burst into laughter. He was afraid she might be able to tell from his face that he had never smoked a cigarette in his life.

"Sure," she said. "Here, catch." She threw the package of cigarettes at him and he caught it mid-air. She looked impressed. He took one out and squatted next to her so she could light it with her lighter. He drew in a deep breath and swallowed a cough. He could feel how his face was turning red.

"It's okay to cough," she said with a grin.

Mads had coughed so badly it sounded like he would hack up a lung.

"First time, huh?" she asked.

He chuckled and smoked again. "Yeah. Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"I can think of worse things," she said. "Say, do you like to have some fun?"

His face lit up in a grin. "What did you have in mind?"

Mads was pulled out of his daydream as the door once again was opened to his room at the hospital. He listened carefully to the steps approaching, thinking he would be able to tell if it was the woman again. But it wasn't. And it wasn't one person who entered…it sounded like two. They were talking to each other as they approached the bed. Mads felt they were really close now and he recognized one of the voices. The female one. She had been there before.

"I'll check the left leg if you take the right," she said. "It might be just a small stab-wound."

I'm here. I'm awake. Please see me. Please see me moving my finger!

Mads was screaming helplessly inside of his own mind while desperately trying to move his pinky.

Please see it. Please see my finger! I'm alive. I'm not dead!

"Do you see anything?" the female voice asked.

"There are a lot of scratches and bruises, but they look like they're from the accident," a male voice answered.

I'm moving my finger. I'm moving it now. Can't you see it?

"Yeah, I know. What we're looking for should be deeper if he was stabbed with something." The woman sighed deeply. "Maybe we should ask one of the doctors. Maybe they noticed one of the wounds looked different than what you normally get from being hit by a car?"

"Wait a minute," the male voice said.

Mads felt how his gown was lifted higher up and someone touched his leg. Oh how badly he wanted them to realize he felt everything and heard it all.

"What?" the female voice asked.

Mads heard her move to the other side of his bed.

"This here looks strange. Here on his thigh."

"Yeah. It looks like when a nurse tries to find a vein in your arm but misses and you get a big bruise. It looks like an ordinary bruise, but you can see where the needle tried to penetrate the skin. Maybe a really bad nurse had trouble here at the hospital?"

"Wouldn't they usually use an arm?"

"Maybe they couldn't find any more veins? I don't know; I'm not a nurse," the woman said.

"Neither was this person," the man said. "Just look at it. It looks terrible. There is a wound where the needle went through."

"Yeah. It looks like it was bleeding when it was done," the woman said. "Look at the dried-up blood."

"Could that be it?" the male said. "Could that be what they were talking about? You know that Mads was limping when he stormed outside."

"I don't know. Stephen Pars said it was just a few drops of blood, so I guess it could have been."

Mads was laughing with delight inside his head. Finally, someone was making progress. Finally, someone was figuring out what had happened to him.

Yes! Yes! Yes!
He yelled with all his strength.
Yes she tried to inject something into my thigh. Yes, she did it. Please find her, before I die. Please find her!

"Let's go talk to the doctor," the female voice said.

Mads heard steps, then one of them stopped. "What was that?" the female voice said.

"What was what?" the man asked.

Had they heard him? Had they heard him scream?

"I turned to look at him and I could have sworn that…I…It looked exactly like he was moving the tip of his pinky."

She saw that? She saw it? Yes, yes yes. I'm moving my pinky. Yes, she saw it. Yes, I'm alive, hello? I'm in here? I'm trapped in here! Call the doctor and let them know.

"I didn't see anything," the man said. "Maybe it was a spasm or something."

"Yeah you're probably right. I just can't escape the feeling that…"

"That what?" the man asked.

"I don't know what it is…I just feel like…like he can hear us or something."

I can hear you. I hear everything
.

The man chuckled. "That's silly."

"I know. Let's go find the doctor and ask him about the bruise on his thigh."

No. No. Don't go. Don't leave me in this darkness. You saw it. You saw me move my finger. You know I'm alive! Don't leave me!

But the room had already gone as silent as the grave Mads feared so desperately that he’d end up in.

No! Come back!

29

April 2014

M
ORTEN AND
I
FOUND
Doctor Faaborg in the hallway and he showed us into his office. I had spoken to him on several occasions while worrying about Mads Schou dying and making my daughter a murderer. He was a very nice man in his mid-fifties.

"Now Emma, what can I do for you?" he asked. "Have they located your daughter yet?"

"Not yet, doctor. We're working on it."

"I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do to save Mads Schou…for all who have been involved in this tragedy."

"I'm sure you did all you could," I said, thinking about what I had seen in that room. I couldn't escape the thought that Mads had moved the tip of his pinky. What did it mean? Could he be alive? Could he be trying to signal us?

Come on, Emma. Get real. That kind of stuff only happens in movies. You're being silly
.

"So how can I help you today?" the doctor asked, as he looked at his watch. I knew he was a busy man and I had to hurry up.

"We were just wondering about a bruise on Mads Schou's thigh," I said.

"Yes, what about it?" the doctor asked.

"It looks like he had some sort of injection or something?"

The doctor frowned. "In the thigh? I don't think so. I see no reason why a nurse would do that in his thigh."

"He’s not diabetic or something, is he?" I asked, thinking briefly about Mrs. Alonzo, the woman onboard the cruise ship who fainted because she forgot to eat in worry about her son.

"No. He is not." The doctor tapped on his keyboard quickly, then looked back at us. "I have the report here and it does say he has a bruise on the right thigh, but according to this, it was caused by the accident. I have no reason to believe that it’s not."

"Could you take a look at it?" I asked. "I know you're busy and everything, but it would be a big help to us if you did this."

Doctor Faaborg looked at me and smiled. I knew he liked me. He loved my books and had read all of them, he had told me on several occasions.

"I can send you a signed copy of my book?" I said.

"Now, Emma Frost," he said chuckling. "That's bribing. But okay. I'll do this for you and you could choose to give me the book afterwards as a present."

"Sounds perfect."

We got up from his office chairs and followed doctor Faaborg back to Mads' room. I hated walking through that door. It constantly reminded me that somewhere out there Maya was feeling awful and scared to death about what had happened. I loathed myself for ever having told her to hang up the phone, but I knew there was nothing else I could have done. I just couldn't escape the thought that maybe if I had stayed with her, then she would never have disappeared. But it was so easy to blame yourself in hindsight.