“Anderson and I were out, and a hiker walked over to the house. He asked for directions.”
He says it in a way that doesn’t reveal much about the whole story. So, my gut feeling awakens immediately and starts panicking.
“Was it Sven?”
“Sven?” he repeats, giving me a cross look. “No. We would recognize him. Don’t be stupid.”
I’m so scared at the potential outcome of this that I don’t even pay attention to the comment he just made. I want him to tell me that the guy was just a hiker and nothing else, and that there is absolutely nothing to get worked up about. But, waiting for him, I see he has no intention of doing that.
“So, who was he?”
Fynn just shrugs. His eyebrows are furrowed, brought together all the way close, and the usually fine lines on his forehead have become much more prominent.
“Is he a threat?” I ask again.
“We don’t know.”
“So, how are you supposed to keep me safe if you have no idea if I’m even in danger right now!?” I snap at him, and my words cut at the air between us like a knife.
He pulls back, and gives me a puzzled look. He isn’t angry. But, he should be.
“Are you the cop here?” he growls at me. I don’t even grace him with an answer to that obviously rhetorical question. “So, calm down. There is no sign of a threat, at least not at the moment. It’s highly unlikely that the guy’s a mole, but I wouldn’t rule it out either. We just need to stay put, and be twice as vigilant.”
“Be sitting ducks, you mean?”
“You wanna try and outrun Sven?” he suddenly pulls his chair back and gets up. “Be my guest. You wouldn’t be the first one who tried. But, you’d sure as Hell be the first one who succeeded.”
Those words leave me speechless, and I just watch as he walks out of the kitchen, and goes to the living room. I run after him.
“You can’t expect me to just - “
The sound of the phone interrupts me, and we both look in the direction where the ringing is coming from. Fynn glances over at me. His eyes are wide, uncertain. He hesitates before he reaches for the phone. In that short amount of time, I managed to take a peek at the screen. It was a hidden number.
“Hello?” Fynn answers after it had been ringing for a while.
I see his face turn pale, as he lowers the phone from his ear and presses a button with a trembling finger. The sound coming from the phone fills up the room.
“Maddie baby?” I hear the voice that makes my blood turn cold. “Do you want to say a few last words to daddy dearest?”
I know that voice. It will always belong to my nightmares, and even in my waking hours, I’ll never be able to escape it.
“Maddie?” my dad speaks, his voice trembling. He coughs a little.
“You need to excuse daddy dearest, he doesn’t feel very well. And, I’m afraid he won’t be feeling much better than this ever again,” Sven chuckles violently.
Fynn isn’t saying anything. I look at him for help, but all he is doing is holding that damn phone.
“Dad?” I manage to muster, on the verge of tears.
“Sweetheart, it’s fine… don’t worry…” my dad sounds tired, his words are garbled, like he’s got something in his mouth.
“Dad… I…” The realization of what he did is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. “I love you…”
“I love you, t - “
“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Sven drags his snake-like voice. “But, I didn’t call for that. Fynn, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here, you piece of shit,” Fynn growls, as his jaw tightens under the strain.
“Good to hear your voice,” Sven hisses. “It’ll be even better to kick your ass, but I’ll leave that for up close and personal.”
“How did you get this number?” Fynn speaks through clenched teeth, rage oozing out of his words.
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Sven chuckles. “Haven’t you learned that already?”
“I swear, when I lay my hands on you - “
“You’ll probably be left without them,” Sven interrupts him. “Now, Maddie baby, say goodbye to daddy. He has to go away for a very long time.”
“No!” I scream at the phone, bending my whole body over it, my hands pleading at the voice that materializes out of that little gadget. “Dad! If you touch - “
At that moment, a single gunshot explodes somewhere inside the phone, and the connection breaks.
“Dad!” I scream again, dropping down to my knees.
I’m barely aware of the hands that are around me, but I recognize the smell. Fynn lets me sob on his shoulder, his big palms resting on my back and the nape of my neck. I’m shaking. I feel like someone had pulled the carpet right from underneath me, like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, and someone just pushed me. Now, I’m falling, just falling, and I have no idea where it will end, or how hurtful it will be when I finally hit the ground.
My body is trembling still. I’ve stopped sobbing. I’ve stopped repeating the word dad over and over again. My tears keep streaming down my face, an endless waterfall of sadness with no end in sight.
Fynn doesn’t say anything. He just lets me be me, my sad self, as we both try to accommodate to the shock we just survived. I just can’t forget the sound of that gunshot. Was it aimed at my dad? And, if it was, did it hit him? If it did hit him, is he alright? Has he survived? Will I ever see him again?
So many questions are swarming inside my mind, each of them stinging me like an angry bee. It takes all my effort to finally calm down a little. I lift my gaze to meet Fynn’s. He is as grave as ever. I know I could never ask him to console me. Would he even know what to say? But, he is here, not Anderson. And, I need him.
“Do you think my dad’s alright?” I whisper, feeling the salty taste of my tears in the corner of my mouth.
He sighs heavily before replying. He lets go of me, and we both get up from the floor.
“I doubt it, Maddie,” he tells me the truth.
A part of me appreciates his honesty. That’s what I need right now. I can’t get lost in daydreams that will end up killing me. But, another part of me wants to squeeze my fists and start hitting him with all my might, because how dare he assume that my father is dead. My mind is screaming with pain, my heart can’t stop skipping every other beat, and I feel like I can barely stand up.
“I think I need to lie down a little,” I feel like I’m reliving the same scene from before, only it’s much more difficult this time.
A sudden sensation of nausea hits me like a tidal wave. I bend over and throw up the remnants of my sandwich and coffee. It feels like it lasts forever, getting all of it back out, and when I’m finally done, my stomach contracts a few more times, but nothing more comes out. The stench hits me like a ton of bricks, as I wipe the corner of my mouth with my upper hand.