Irina got up, went over to the window, and gazed down into the courtyard.
“Hanna has never been late without notifying me in all the years I’ve known her,” she said. “I’m starting to worry.”
“Whatever.” Meike shrugged. “She’ll turn up. It was a late one last night.”
Most probably she was in bed with some guy. Hanna had something going on with a man; she knew that for a fact. Meike was only too familiar with the typical symptoms of infatuation. Once her mother’s hormones took over, everything else faded away. In recent weeks, she’d seemed changed somehow; she would turn off her cell phone and was sometimes unreachable for hours. Besides, she hadn’t offered a word of protest when Meike announced that she was going to live in the city all summer, in the middle of Sachsenhausen, instead of in her mother’s house behind the seven hills, in the middle of nowhere. Actually, Meike had expected begging, tears, and pleading—yes, she’d even secretly looked forward to that sort of response. But Hanna had scarcely reacted to her news. “If you think that’s better” was all she had said. Once again, some guy was more important than her daughter, and now Meike’s assumption seemed to be confirmed. Naturally, Hanna had told her nothing, and Meike would rather have bitten off her tongue than to ask. She didn’t give a damn about her mother’s personal life, and if she hadn’t needed the money so badly, she never would have agreed to take this job.
“One of us ought to drive over to her place and see if she’s okay.” Jan Niemöller looked wiped out. His eyes were bloodshot and he was unshaven and nervous. “Hanna was acting so strange yesterday.”
Sure, she wanted to hook up with her boyfriend, Meike thought scornfully, but she stopped herself from making a bitchy remark. Negative comments about her mother didn’t go over well here. Irina and Jan were now discussing the best way to proceed, and Meike asked herself what their motivation might be.
It was absurd the way Jan was making a fool of himself. A heated rivalry existed between him and Irina. It went so far that neither of them would stay home even with a fever of 104, out of sheer terror that the other might be scoring points to win Hanna’s favor. They waged regular battles of jealousy, competing to see who could do something with or for Hanna, who, in turn, exploited this silly kindergarten war to her advantage.
Irina and Jan were always discussing things. Meike shoved her chair back, threw her bag over her shoulder, and stood up.
“I see no reason to drive out to Langenhain at the moment, but I’ll do it if that will finally give the two of you some peace of mind.”
“Oh, that’s so nice of you,” they both said in a rare display of unity.
“If she calls in the meantime, I’ll let you know.” Irina beamed with relief.
Meike was happy to get out of the office. Today she definitely wouldn’t be going back there. Not in this awesome weather.
* * *
The officers at K-11 had returned to the daily routine, temporarily at least, after two hectic weeks. There were no new leads or tips, and the hot-line phone hardly ever rang. In the papers, the story of the dead girl in the river had long since been pushed off the front page by current events and disasters.
But Bodenstein was still working intently on the case. Late that afternoon, he’d spoken on the phone in detail with an editor from
Germany’s Most Wanted
and had great hopes for the scheduled broadcast. The only drawback was the planned date of the broadcast, in the middle of the first week of summer vacation in Hessen. He had spread out the “Mermaid” case files on the visitor’s table and had organized the documents that he wanted to take with him to Munich next week. It wasn’t the first time that Bodenstein would be speaking to the public from a television studio. Twice before, the program had produced helpful tips that in the end led to the arrest of the perpetrator, although on a third occasion, his appearance had brought no result. He was just making notes of the facts that the editor needed in advance, along with photos and exhibits, when there was a knock on his door.
“We have an emergency call, boss,” said Kai Ostermann. “I’ve already told Pia, and she’ll be here in ten minutes.”
His eyes fell on the meticulously organized documents.
“But I could also try to send Cem and Kathrin. They’re still at that suicide site in Eppstein.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I’ll take it.” Bodenstein looked up. A little fresh air wouldn’t hurt. “Maybe you could make sure these photos and the scraps of clothing go out today. I’ve written down the address.”
“No problem.” Ostermann nodded. “By the way, you’ll have to go to Weilbach. A woman in the trunk of a car. That’s all I know.”
“Whereabouts exactly?” Bodenstein got up. He was wondering whether to take his jacket. Last night, the temperature had turned deceptively cool. But today, it was more unbearable than ever, because an almost tropical humidity of 70 percent had settled in.
“Somewhere in the field behind the Weilbach rest stop on the autobahn heading for Frankfurt. I sent Kröger over there, too.”
“Good.” Bodenstein took his jacket from the back of the chair and left the office.
The case of the dead girl in the river weighed on him. In his career with the Criminal Police, he’d been on two cases that, despite intense efforts, had never been cleared up. He had still been with K-11 in Frankfurt when a thirteen-year-old boy was found dead in a pedestrian underpass in the city’s Höchst district, and in 2001 the body of a young girl was found at the Wörthspitze in the Main River at Nied. Both times, it was young people, hardly more than kids, who were the victims of gruesome crimes. Their murders remained unsolved, and the perps were still on the loose. Was it about to happen a third time? The success rate in solving homicides was relatively high in Germany, but it was a very bad sign that after more than two weeks there were still no hot leads.
* * *
“Hanna?”
Meike stood in the hall and listened. Although she had a key to the front door, she had rung the bell twice. She had no desire to surprise her mother in flagrante with a man in her bed.
“Hanna!”
Nothing. The bird had flown the coop. Meike went into the kitchen, then through the dining and living rooms to her mother’s home office. She glanced into the room, which looked as chaotic as always. Upstairs in the bedroom, the bed hadn’t been slept in and the wardrobe doors were standing open. A few articles of clothing had been removed from their hangers in the wardrobe, and several pairs of shoes lay scattered on the floor.
Her mother probably hadn’t been able to decide what to wear to the broadcast. The clothes her stylist picked out for her seldom found approval in her eyes; she liked her own clothes better. The bedroom didn’t look like it had been the setting for a passionate night of love; it looked instead as though Hanna hadn’t been home at all.
Meike went back downstairs.
She didn’t like this house; it gave her the creeps. When she was a kid, it was nice to live on a street with no cars driving past. With the neighbor kids, she roller-skated and rode go-carts; they had played Chinese jump rope and hopscotch and wandered through the woods. But then the house had turned into an enemy. After months of fighting, her parents had finally separated. Her father suddenly vanished, and Meike’s mother had left her alone with constantly changing au pairs. As she grew older, it had been sheer hell to live in such a stagnant place by the woods in Langenhain, removed from any sort of excitement.
Meike opened the mailbox, took out a stack of letters, and quickly looked through them. Once in a while, some mail came for her. A note that was stuck between the letters dropped to the floor. Meike bent down and picked it up. It was a page torn out of a calendar.
Waited until 1:30,
she read.
Would have liked to see you. My cell battery is dead! Here’s the address. BP knows about it. Call me. K.
What could this mean? And what was this address in Langensebold?
Meike’s curiosity was aroused. She would never admit it, but the change that had come over her mother during the past weeks made her mad. Hanna was acting very secretive and refused to tell anyone where she was going or where she’d been. Not even Irina. Was “K” her new boyfriend? And who was BP?
Meike glanced at her cell phone. It was just a little past eleven. More than enough time to drive over to Langensebold and check out that address.
* * *
Bodenstein pressed the button to open the door and stepped into the security screening area. He nodded to the officer on duty, who was sitting in the guard room behind bulletproof glass, to let him out. Pia was already waiting in the car and had the motor running. He got in and sighed with relief. She had gotten hold of an official car with air conditioning, and it was pleasantly cool inside.
“Do we know anything more?” Bodenstein asked, fumbling with the seat belt.
“Female body in a car trunk, they said,” Pia replied. She turned left in the direction of the autobahn. “Did everything go all right at your appointment with the notary yesterday?”
“Yep. The house is sold.”
“Was it bad?”
“Amazingly, no. Maybe it will be when we move our stuff out. But if all goes well with the house in Ruppertshain, leaving will be easier.” Bodenstein thought about his meeting with Cosima last night at the notary’s office in Kelkheim. For the first time since their ugly separation almost two years ago, he’d been able to look at her and talk to her rationally, without getting upset. He had no feelings left, either good or bad, for the mother of his three children, and the woman with whom he had spent over half his life. And that was both frightening and a big relief. Maybe this was how they would continue to deal with each other in the future.
On the drive to Weilbach, he told Pia about the hearing at State Criminal Police headquarters and Behnke’s defeat. The shrill ring of Pia’s cell interrupted him, postponing any decision about whether or not to tell his colleague about the showdown in the corridor between Behnke and Nicola Engel.
“Can you take this?” Pia asked. “It’s Christoph.”
Bodenstein answered the phone and then held it up to Pia’s ear.
“I don’t know how late we’ll be today. We just got called out again, and we’re on our way over there now,” she told Christoph. “Hmm … yes … grilling is perfect. There’s still some pasta salad in the fridge, but if you’re stopping at the store anyway, could you get some detergent? I forgot to write it down.”
A typical everyday conversation between two people in a relationship, like Bodenstein used to have with Cosima. In the past two years, as he’d gone through a private state of emergency, he’d often missed this feeling of closeness. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that the freedom he now had was an exciting new opportunity, he longed for a real home and another person with whom he could share his life. He wasn’t cut out for living alone for any length of time.
Pia listened to Christoph for a while, occasionally muttering in agreement, but all of a sudden she smiled in a manner Bodenstein had seldom seen.
“Okay,” she said, ending the call. “I’ll call you later.”
Bodenstein turned off the phone and placed it on the center console.
“Why are you grinning like that?” he asked.
“Oh, that little girl,” Pia replied lightly without looking at him. “She’s so cute. You wouldn’t believe the things she comes up with.” She turned serious again. “It’s almost a shame that she has to leave so soon.”
“A couple of days ago, you were singing a different tune,” Bodenstein said, amused. “You were totally worn-out and you were crossing off the days to her departure on your calendar.”
“You’re right. But in the meantime, we have come to an agreement, Lilly and I,” Pia admitted. “Having a kid like that in the house really does change everything. Most of all, I underestimated the burden of responsibility. Sometimes she’s so independent that I forget how much she still needs to be protected.”
“You’re right about that,” Bodenstein said with a nod. His youngest daughter had turned four in December, and now that she spent every other weekend with him, or sometimes a couple of days midweek, he noticed how much attention such a small child required, but also how much joy she gave him.
They left the A66 at the autobahn exit in Hattersheim and turned onto the L3265, heading for Kiesgrube. They could already see the scene of the crime in the distance, because there was a helicopter standing in a meadow, its rotor blades lazily turning in neutral.
At the edge of a neighboring wheat field, they saw police vehicles, a medical examiner’s car, and an ambulance. Pia slowed down and put on the blinker, but before she could turn onto the dirt road, a uniformed colleague motioned for them to park by the side of the highway. They got out to walk the last fifty yards on foot. A wall of humid heat seemed to slam into Bodenstein as he followed Pia along the narrow grass shoulder; the dirt track had been turned to mud by the thunderstorm and was roped off. The wheat had not survived the previous night unharmed, and the downpour had broken many of the stalks or bent them to the ground.
“Please go around the outside!” shouted Christian Kröger, pointing toward the field, in which a narrow path was marked with tape fluttering in the wind. The leader of the evidence team and his three colleagues had already put on their white overalls with hoods—not a job to be envied in this searing heat. There was no shade tree anywhere in sight.
“What have we got?” Bodenstein asked when they reached Kröger.
“A woman in the trunk of a car, naked and unconscious,” Kröger told them. “Not a pretty sight.”
“She’s not dead?”
“You think they send a chopper to take corpses to forensics?” Kröger snapped. “No, she’s still alive. Two people from autobahn maintenance spotted the car from the rest stop and thought it was odd. They drove over here—unfortunately, they didn’t think to take care about destroying evidence.”
One of the seven deadly sins in Kröger’s eyes. But who apart from a policeman would immediately think of a crime when an empty car was found abandoned in a field?