Thirteen, Fourteen... Little Boy Unseen (11 page)

“Unnamed sources? Anonymous?” I asked, looking at Sara, who placed a piece of pastry in front of me and a cup of coffee. I smiled and mouthed a thank you while she went back to the police scanner.

“I hate having to do that,” Jens-Ole said. “It’s just not credible enough. It sounds like we’re guessing and making up our own stories, but yes, I believe that’s what we’ll have to do. It’s the only way. You do that, and I’ll take care of management. Write, Goddammit. Write your story.”

He hung up. I put the phone down and looked at Sune, who was staring at his screen. We had hardly spoken since last night. I had asked him to come in and help me get access to the police file on Dr. Korner, so I could check the forensic report. Now, there was nothing more for him to do, and I knew he was only waiting for me to tell him he could go home, but I didn’t want to. I knew he would only spend time with that creepy guy Jeppe, and I hated that. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted him to stay here with me. After all, the newspaper was paying him for an entire day. They had to. Even if we only asked him to do a little work, as a freelancer he was being paid for the entire day. So, while eating my pastry, I wondered if I could come up with something else for him to do. I was, after all, writing a big article about how the killings were connected, and they needed some photos besides the ones they already had.

“Sune could you maybe go downtown and take some pictures from outside the police station for my article?” I asked.

“Why can’t your journalist friend do it?” he asked.

Sune had been mad at me ever since he realized David had taken the pictures for my story the day before.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your
photo
-journalist friend,” he corrected himself sarcastically.

“Could you please just do this for me?” I asked, ignoring his comments. I wasn’t in the mood for fighting.

“Can’t you just take some pictures from the archives? The building is the exact same as it was the last time.”

“You know they prefer the pictures to be new,” I said.

Sune shrugged. Then he grabbed his camera. “I guess,” he said.

Sara took off her headset. “Could you bring back lunch? Maybe some of those sandwiches from the bakery on the corner? They’re so good.”

Sune shrugged again. “I guess.” He put his jacket on, and without a word of goodbye, he left the office.

“What’s eating him?” Sara asked when he had left.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I had a bad feeling inside of me. I didn’t like what was happening between us.

“A late teenage rebellion?” I said.

Sara laughed out loud while putting her headphones back on. I didn’t laugh.

30

I
DIDN’T
like the idea of writing an article without anyone confirming its content, and luckily, after writing most of it, I had an idea. I called an old friend at the Copenhagen forensic department. I knew him when I was in Iraq. He worked on helping identify victims, especially when a bomb had been set off in a public marketplace or after a roadside bomb attack. He came back to Denmark a year after me.

“Rebekka! Wow. It’s been years. How have you been?” Kim asked.

“Good. Can’t complain. Guess you heard I moved to Karrebaeksminde?”

“Yes. Yes, I heard. Terrible story with Peter, huh? I guess he really lost it after we came home, huh? I’m so sorry for you, Rebekka. You seemed like such a great couple.”

“Well, things are not always as they seem,” I said.

“So, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“I need a favor.”

“I believe I owe you one for that time in Baghdad when you saved me from that bomb. I guess I owe you several. You saved my life, Rebekka. I’ll do anything for you.”

“I need you to do something now. And it’s a big request.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it,” he said.

“I want you to comment on an article I’m writing about four killings here in Karrebaeksminde. I believe they’re all connected; I believe it’s the same killer, but I can’t get it confirmed.”

Kim went quiet. “I know what you’re talking about. I think I could do that. I mean, the management won’t like it, since we’re not supposed to talk about the case to the press, but for you, I’ll do it for you.”

“Really? You have no idea how happy I am. What I need is for you to tell me the similarities in the cases.”

“I can do that. I mean, it’s bound to get out somehow anyway, right?”

“I will tell the story no matter what,” I said. “I just prefer to have my facts confirmed.”

“Naturally. You’re a professional. Always have been,” he said.

“One more thing,” I said. “I need you to confirm for me what the murder weapon is.”

Kim went quiet once again. I could tell he was thinking. “That’s going to be a little harder,” he said.

“I know it was a police-baton, so I’ll write it anyway,” I said.

Kim sighed. “This is going to be ugly,” he said. “But if you ask me about it, then I guess I can’t lie.”

I smiled and looked at Sara, who could tell something was going on. I gave her a thumbs up and she smiled back.

I spoke with Kim for about an hour on the phone, getting all my details confirmed, and even the murder weapon. Then I thanked him and hung up. I texted Jens-Ole and told him the article was now confirmed and almost done. I looked at the clock and realized Sune had been gone for a long time. I wondered if there was a line at the bakery, then returned to my article, not thinking anymore about it. I went to the kitchen and poured myself some more coffee, which I drank while finishing the story. I sent it to Sara and had her read through it to make sure it was clear, and that I hadn’t left anything out.

“It’s really good,” she said when she was done. “Kind of scared me. To think there’s a policeman out there beating people to death with his baton. Made me shiver.”

I was satisfied with her reaction, and wanted to send the article, but I still needed Sune’s pictures. I looked at the clock and wondered what was taking him so long. I grabbed my phone and looked at the display. He hadn’t tried to call or text me. I decided to call him. He picked up.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“What, are you checking up on me now?” he asked. “You’re not my mother, remember?”

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s the way you feel, but I was a little worried and wanted to know if you had run into trouble.”

“As a matter of fact, I did run into someone,” he said. “I ran into Henrik Pedersen outside the station. I talked to him for a long time, and he told me he could confirm that they were looking within the police force for the killer. I took his picture and wrote his quote down for your article.”

Oh, my God!

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly serious.”

“That’s awesome, Sune.”

“Well, I did have to smooth-talk him for a little while, but I got the feeling he liked the idea of being in the paper and having his photo in it.”

“That’s so great, Sune. Thank you so much. Now my article will be complete.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“So, are you on your way back?” I asked.

“Well, I’m kind of on my way downtown to meet up with Jeppe at the Internet Café. We wanted to play a few games. I can send the pictures and the quote from there if you like. I really don’t need to come in for that.”

My heart dropped. I missed hanging out with Sune. I wanted to have lunch with him. I wanted to discuss the story like we used to do.

“Well…I guess not.”

“Great. I’ll send everything to you in the drop box. See you later.”

31

L
EONORA AND
Alex soon became the closest of friends in the entire school. The man remembered vividly how they would stick together in everything. Even finishing each other’s sentences from time to time like an old married couple. He couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of them, since he didn’t have anyone that close in his life. He had always been the one closest to his sister, and he also had a secret crush on Leonora. But he never told anyone how he felt. Because, at the same time, he was happy for them. He was thrilled for Alex. And finally the screaming and crying at night had ceased.

Their parents still tried to change her ways and force her to wear girls’ clothes. They refused to cut her hair like she wanted them to, and told her she would be pulled out of school and be homeschooled if she ever did it herself. So, Alex looked like a girl on the outside, with her long black hair and black dresses, but she never acted like one. Her every movement, even the expressions on her face, were masculine. It made her look odd and made her classmates continue to tease her.

But now, she had someone in her life. Leonora, the prettiest girl in the entire school, suddenly stood up for her. She would tell people off and get them to back down. And Alex was in love from the very first day. She would follow Leonora everywhere she went and do anything the girl told her to.

Their parents thought Alex had finally gotten a real friend, and that she was now, at long-last, accepting the fact that she was actually a girl and behaving like one. So, they applauded this new person in Alex’s life. They invited her over and drove Alex to the mall when Leonora wanted to meet her there.

What they didn’t know was that their daughter secretly dreamt about her new best friend at night in ways they would never have accepted if they had known.

But her brother knew. He listened to her when she spoke about Leonora and saw the sparkle in her eyes. He knew how much Alex wanted to be close to Leonora, but he also feared deeply for the day when Leonora figured out how her best friend felt. How she secretly desired her.

“You don’t know if Leonora likes girls,” he said one night, trying to break it to his sister gently.

Alex looked at him like he was a complete idiot. “I’m not a girl,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” he argued. “Look at you. Look at your hair, your clothes, your breasts.”

Alex looked down. “Those are not mine,” she said. “They came from the pills, remember? I never wanted them. And the hair and clothes? That doesn’t make me a girl.”

“Okay, but the fact that you have a vagina must be proof enough, right? I mean, how much clearer does it get?”

Alex looked at her brother through the dark almost black hair that was always hanging in front of her face. Then she growled.

“I’m not a girl! I’m not a girl!”

“Yes, you are!”

For the first time in their life as twins, Alex lost her temper. She grabbed her brother around his neck and started choking him.

“Say I’m a boy. Say I’m a boy!” she yelled forcefully.

The brother was terrified that she was going to strangle him. She held him so tightly around the neck, it hurt like crazy, and he couldn’t breathe. He gasped and spurted for air.

“Say it!”

The boy felt how he started to lose consciousness, while he struggled to stay alive, when the door to their room opened and their parents stormed in.

“What’s going on here?”

Seeing what was happening, their father sprang for Alex and pulled her away from her brother, who lay for a long time on the bed gasping for air and coughing. He still remembered Alex’s scream as they carried her out of the room.

“I’m not a girl! Say I’m not a girl!”

32

W
HEN
I
was done with my article and had chosen a few of Sune’s pictures to send along with it, I picked up all the kids and went home. I hadn’t heard anything from Sune, and as time passed, I wondered if he was even going to make it home for dinner.

My dad came down and sat at the table while I made Danish meatballs,
frikadeller,
and baked potatoes. He looked tired and pale, and I wondered when he had last been outside to get some fresh air.

“I’ll open the window,” he would always say, when I told him fresh air would do him good.

I wondered if I should take him out for a walk when Sune got back and could look after the kids. Even if it was dark out, he would still get some air. It was always hard in the wintertime for him to get outside because he was afraid of slipping. The sidewalks were icy and he could easily fall. I couldn’t blame him.

“So, what’s going on with you and Sune these days?” he asked.

I shrugged, while cutting the lettuce for the salad. “I really don’t know. It’s like he prefers to spend time with that Jeppe guy more than me. I guess I can’t blame him. I’m not exactly all fun like him. I’m older; I have more responsibility. I don’t like spending all day playing video games. It’s just a waste of time, if you know what I mean.”

My dad chuckled. I poured him a glass of wine. The doctor had said one glass a day would be good for his heart. I poured one for myself and sipped it. I felt the sadness spread, thinking about how it always used to be Sune that I shared my wine with. We would laugh and talk about our day or a story we worked on, or laugh at the crazy kids.

“It’s like half of me is missing, somehow. I mean, we used to do everything together, and now he’s off having fun with someone else. I don’t mind him having fun, that’s not the problem…”

“But you would prefer that he had fun with you,” my dad said.

“That’s how it used to be.”

I sipped my wine again when my phone vibrated. Hoping it was Sune, I picked it up. It was a text.

HOW WAS YOUR DAY?

It was from David. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Why did I feel so happy when hearing from him? That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I texted back, trying to stay professional and only talk about work:

GOOD. GOT A BIG ARTICLE IN FOR TOMORROW. DON’T MISS IT.

He texted me back:

I WON’T. I ONLY MISS YOU.

I looked at the text, then put the phone down. It was getting dangerous now. Did I have feelings for him? Why was I happy that he sent that? Why did I want to put everything down and go see him? Why had I missed him all day?

The phone vibrated again. I picked it up. But this time it wasn’t from David. It was a text from an unknown number. It said: