Peek A Boo I See You (Emma Frost #5) (6 page)

I grabbed the package and lifted it in the air. "Well I'd better get it inside. Thanks."

The mailman lifted his cap and nodded. "My pleasure."

I went back inside to my mother in the kitchen and placed the package on the kitchen table.

"What on earth is that?" she asked.

"I have no idea. There is no sender on it. It might be something Maya ordered."

"But it has your name on it?"

"That is strange. Maybe it is for me after all?" I said. "I'm opening it to see what it is."

"I'll get the scissors," my mother said, and handed them to me.

I cut off the tape, then ripped the package open. It was filled with bubble wrap. I pulled it out and threw it on the table. Then I saw something.

"What is it?" my mother asked.

"I don't know. It looks strange…"

I reached my hand down and grabbed whatever it was between my hands, then pulled it up.

"Oh my God," my mother gasped.

I looked down and, as I realized what it was that I was holding, I immediately dropped it and started to scream.

12

February 2014

"
W
HAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

My mother couldn't stop screaming. She clapped her hands to her mouth. I looked at her, then down at the head that had landed back in the box when I dropped it. Its bloody eyes looked back at me. My heart was pounding rapidly. I stumbled backwards. I touched my face in frustration, then realized they were smeared in blood from holding the head.

"What was it, Emma?" My mother continued. "It…it…it looked like…Tell me it wasn't, Emma. Tell me it wasn't."

"I…I'm afraid it was…"

"Where did it come from? Emma? What is going on here? Talk to me. Why was there a head in that box?"

"I don't know, for crying out loud. I don't know, Mom!"

My entire body was shivering as I kept walking backwards, away from the staring head in the box, so it wouldn't be able to look at me anymore.

I heard a noise at the front door. Someone was knocking, then the door opened. "Hello? Is everyone alright in here? I heard screaming."

The door to the kitchen opened slowly and the mailman peeked in. He looked at my mother, then at me. "What happened?" he asked, horrified.

"The box you handed me," I said. "It…it…"

"There was a head in it," my mother said from behind her hands.

The mailman looked at her, then walked towards her and looked inside the box. "Oh my God," he exclaimed, then closed the lid. He looked at my mother again. "Are you alright?"

She removed her hands from her mouth, then shook her head. "Who…who would do such a thing?"

The mailman put a hand on her shoulder. "You look pale, Mrs. Don't you want to sit down?"

He pulled out a chair and helped my mom sit. "Miss," she said. "I'm divorced."

The mailman lit up. "Oh, well, then miss…?"

"Ulla," my mother said. "You can call me Ulla."

"Very well. Would you care for a glass of water, Ulla?"

"Yes, please. That would be nice."

The mailman found a glass and poured tap water into it, then handed it to my mom. I heard the front door open and more people enter. Seconds later, Sophia opened the door to the kitchen with a loud bang.

"What's going on here?" She looked at the mailman and my mother, who both looked like schoolchildren caught kissing in the schoolyard.

Sophia turned and saw me. "Are you alright?" she asked.

I looked at her, then shook my head. I pointed at the box on the wooden kitchen table.

"You don't want to look in there," the mailman said.

"I'll decide that for myself," Sophia said, and opened the box. She blinked a couple of times, then closed the lid again. "Well, that explains a lot."

I turned on the water and started washing my hands, frantically scrubbing them to get the blood off. Then I found my cellphone and called Morten.

"You need to come immediately," I said. "Someone sent me a woman's head in the mail."

Morten arrived with blaring sirens, then stormed inside, looking at me. I was still standing by the sink rubbing my hands with a towel, trying to remove the feeling of having someone else's blood on me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. Just take that thing away from me," I said.

My mother gasped as Morten opened the lid and looked inside. The mailman took her hand in his and put the other on her shoulder.

Sophia opened a bottle of whiskey and poured some in a glass that she handed to me. "Here, this should calm you down."

I had never been much of a drinker during the daytime, but this day I really did need something strong. I took it with shivering hands, then gulped it down.

"Thanks. That helped."

Sophia smiled. "One more?"

I shook my head. "No thanks."

She poured herself one and pounded it down while Morten studied the head in the box, while wearing plastic gloves. "I need to take this to the forensics team," he said. "I have a feeling I know who it belongs to."

He looked at me and I nodded. I thought about the decapitated woman's body I’d seen the day before and felt nauseated. "Just take it out of here, please," I said again.

"Why would anyone send this to Emma?" my mother asked.

Morten shrugged. "That's what I hope we can figure out." He looked down in the box again as he was closing the lid, then stopped. He opened it again, then stuck his hand inside and pulled out an envelope in a small plastic bag. It was smeared in blood.

"What's this?" he asked.

I shrugged and moved forward. "I haven't seen it until now."

He looked at it, then back at me. "It's addressed to you."

My heart started pounding in my chest again. I walked towards him, then pulled it out of his hands.

"At least wear some gloves, so we won't ruin possible fingerprints," he said and handed me a fresh pair of gloves.

I put them on, then opened the plastic bag and pulled out the white envelope with my name on it. I started tearing it open while trying to calm my heart down. All eyes in the room were on me as I pulled out a letter.

"What does it say?" my mother asked.

I opened the letter and read it. Then I scoffed. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" I asked and looked at Morten.

I showed him the letter. He read it out loud:

"
Tag…you're it
?" He looked at me again. "What the heck does that mean?"

"You tell me. The first message was
Peek-a-boo
."

"Both are kids' games. Someone is playing games with you, Emma?" Sophia asked.

"Looks like it," Morten said.

"Looks more like a bad joke, if you ask me," I said, and took off my gloves.

"What is going on here, officer?" my mom asked with shivering voice. "Is Emma in danger?"

"We don't know yet, Mrs. Frost," Morten said.

"It's Miss Lisholm," she corrected him. "I went back to my maiden name after the divorce."

"Sorry about that, Miss Lisholm," Morten said. He took the letter and put it back in the bag. "I'll have to take this as well."

"Take everything," I said. "Get it out of here."

"I'll have the forensic team look at it, then get back to you with the results. In the meantime, I encourage you to not be alone."

"There aren’t many chances I will," I said, and looked at my mother who was still holding the mailman's hand, much to my surprise.

Morten took the box, then forced a smile. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay."

When he was gone, everyone in the room looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"What do you think this is all about?" my mother asked. "I'm really worried about you. What is going on here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Some idiot finds it funny to leave me creepy messages along with dead bodies." I paused.

My mother's eyes looked appalled.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked.

"Well, I'd better be going now," the mailman said, and finally let go of my mother's hand. "People are waiting for their mail."

"Thank you so much for all your help, Mr.…?" My mother said.

"Arne," the mailman replied. "Just call me Arne."

"Well thank you, Arne," my mother chirped, as she walked him out. "Thank you for being such a gentleman. There aren't many of those left these days."

13

February 2014

T
HERE WAS ONLY ONE
thing Anders Samuelsen hated more than open spaces and that was small closed rooms. Ever since he was a teenager, he had suffered from a severe claustrophobia, one that prevented him from taking any elevator, train, bus or plane. The thought of being cramped together with hundreds of people without being able to get away when you wanted to, was simply petrifying to him.

So naturally, Anders reacted with fear right away when he opened his eyes and found himself in complete darkness. It seemed to be a small room, with walls so close he could reach out and touch them on both sides of where he was lying. Panic spread when he touched the walls surrounding him, feeling the wood to sense if it was movable, pressing on it to see if he could push it aside, but he couldn't. Above him, he could touch what appeared to be the roof of the dark room he was in. His body seemed to be lying on something soft. It felt like silk.

What was this place? He could barely move. He couldn't see.

"Help!" Anders yelled. "Help me? Someone? I can't see anything. Please turn on the light. Someone. Anyone?"

A light was turned on. Anders gasped and looked up to spot a small lamp in the corner. It was so strong, it almost blinded him when he looked at it. He turned his head with a moan and tried to look around. Then his heart stopped. The room he was in was even smaller than he thought. As a matter of fact, it wasn't a room at all. He was in a box of some sort. All the walls were black and he couldn't see what was on the other side. Anders screamed, then looked up at the small lamp in the corner. There was something else next to it. What was that? It looked like…like a small camera?

Oh my God, oh dear God. Where am I? Please get me out of here. I promise I'll be good. I promise. Please!

Anders looked into the camera hoping there would be someone looking from the other end of it.

"Please," he pleaded. "Please get me out of here. I hate small spaces. I really, really hate small spaces. Please help me."

Anders fought his tears, but knew he wouldn't be able to hold them back much longer. He lifted his leg and started kicking the roof, then the sides of the box, but nothing helped. It didn't move.

"HEEEEELP!" he screamed, while kicking and crying. The feeling of utter panic spread slowly, like a cancer through his body and filled him with despair, causing him to kick and hit the sides of the box even more frantically.

Why is this happening to me, God? Why me? Please. I'm so scared. I have to get out. I have to…simply have to get out!

But none of the kicking and banging on the sides, nor on the roof or the floor of the box helped. It didn't move an inch. Not an opening in sight.

How the hell did I even end up in here?

He tried to remember what had happened. The letter! He had received the letter telling him his mother had died.

Did she do this to me?

No, the thought was absurd. She was dead, for crying out loud. Anders shook his head, trying to remember. He had taken a chance.

Oh, why did you do that? You knew it would end badly. You knew going outside would be a terrible mistake. You did it anyway, you fool! Look at what happened!

He had called for a taxi to go to the lawyer's office. That's right. He had called for a taxi. It had arrived at his house and he had gotten in and told the driver the address. The driver had smiled in the rearview mirror, then said the words.

"As you wish, sir."

Then he had driven off. What had happened next? It was so hard for Anders to remember. He remembered driving through town, he also remembered going past the address that he had given the driver. Then he remember telling the driver to stop, that he had passed the address, that he had to go back, but the driver hadn't said anything. Instead, he had sped the car up. Anders felt scared, but tried to talk to him again, when suddenly the driver had stepped on the brakes. Anders remembered screaming as the car came to a very sudden stop, the tires screeching. He remembered yelling at the driver, telling him he was a horrible driver, then grabbing the door handle with his gloved hands to try and open the door, but not being able to. He had known something was really wrong, but didn't want to believe it. He had told the driver to open up, but the driver had laughed at him, then turned around and faced him. Thinking back on it, Anders shivered at the look he remembered on his face. It wasn't the coldness in his eyes or the manic smile on his face that scared him. No, it was the fact that the driver had sneezed at that very moment, spreading all of his germs in the car and Anders knew, he just knew in his scared mind, that there was no way he could avoid those small airborne bastards. He couldn't stop them from entering his fragile body. Even if he covered his mouth and nose, they would find their way through the tear-ducts in his eyes. He knew that much from the many books he had read and TV shows he had seen on the subject, describing it in the smallest detail, with graphics. The driver had laughed again, then lifted his hand which was holding something, what was it? Oh yes, a small spray can of some sort. Terrified, Anders had seen him press it and spray something into Anders' face and, soon after, he remembered nothing except for the strong smell and the taste of ether in his mouth.

Anders drew in a deep breath, thinking this wasn't an accident. He had been sedated, then placed here in this box by this germ-spreading driver-person. But why? Why would he do this to him?

Then a thought struck him. What if someone had put him inside of this box to kill him? To finish him off? Panicking again, he stared at the box, at the corners, and sides to look for just a small opening, anything where air could come in, but he found none. He gasped for air. He could already sense how it was getting harder for him to breathe. How his throat constricted.