Michaela clutched her head. No, no, no, it couldn’t start again now; she had to stop it. She had to call Leonie; she couldn’t lose hold of her Michaela life. If she did, it would be a disaster.
* * *
Pia rushed up the stairs. She always took two at a time. Half the night, she’d lain awake thinking about what she could do to regain her trust in Bodenstein. No way could she let this whole matter rest and act as if she didn’t know anything. Torn between loyalty to her boss and her sense of duty, she fell into a restless sleep full of nightmares around dawn and then ended up oversleeping. Today she had half a day off anyway, because she had to go to a reception in Falkenstein at eleven. Emma had invited her.
It was twenty after eight when she tore open the door of the conference room and muttered “Good morning” along with an apology. She sat down on the empty chair between Cem and Kathrin and got a disapproving glance from Commissioner Engel, who had made it a habit to take part in the morning meetings of K-11.
“Our inquiries to the psychologists registered in Höchst and Unterliederbach and to the psychiatry department at the Höchst Hospital have produced nothing so far,” said Kai Ostermann. “Nobody claims to have seen the girl. And no one recognized her from the police sketch, either.”
“Why are you all dressed up today?” Kathrin whispered.
“Because I have to go to a birthday reception,” Pia whispered back. She felt like she was in disguise in her bright blue summer dress with the rather deep décolletage, the thin knit jacket, and the sling-back pumps, which were so new that they rubbed painfully on the instep of her right foot. Every colleague she’d met on the way upstairs had given her an appreciative look, and one had even whistled at her in fun. Maybe she ought to be happy about that, but she couldn’t get Behnke’s caustic remark about her breasts out of her head. She hated being reduced to physical attributes.
“Are the artist’s sketches ready?” she asked her colleague. Kathrin nodded and shoved two computer printouts across the table. The man had a beard, but it was clearly not Bernd Prinzler. His face was narrower, the beard fuller, and he had deeper-set eyes and a broader nose. The woman had a dark pageboy and a pretty but forgettable face. No features that particularly stood out. Pia was disappointed. She had expected more.
“Today we’ll keep trying the psychotherapeutic practices that primarily treat children and young people,” Kai went on. “According to our witness, the couple spoke perfect standard High German, but the girl had a strong accent. They called the girl ‘our daughter,’ so we may be dealing with an adopted child. That’s why we’re checking all the adoption agencies.”
Bernd Prinzler was going to show up around nine from Preungesheim. In the opinion of Dr. Engel, Bodenstein, and Cem, he was their prime suspect in the Hanna Herzmann case, next to Kilian Rothemund. Pia had no comment. She was only half-listening to what they were talking about. It was an utterly miserable feeling not to be able to trust two people on the team anymore. She secretly asked herself whether Nicola Engel was taking part in their meetings solely out of interest, or whether she wanted to prevent the investigations from heading in a direction that would be personally dangerous for herself.
“Okay, so let’s get going,” said Bodenstein. “Pia, I’d like to have you attend the lineup and sit in on the questioning of Prinzler.”
“I have to leave no later than twenty to eleven,” she reminded her boss. “I’m taking a half day of vacation today.”
“Vacation? In the middle of ongoing investigations?” Dr. Engel raised her eyebrows. “Who approved that?”
“I did.” Bodenstein shoved his chair back and stood up. “We’ll probably be done by then. So, downstairs in ten.”
“Check.” Pia grabbed her bag, which she had brought along instead of her usual backpack, and went to her office. Kai followed her.
“Why don’t you wear a dress more often?” he remarked.
“Don’t start,” Pia grumbled.
“Start what?” Kai asked innocently. “I think your legs are a feast for the eyes.”
“Oh right, my
legs
!”
“Yes, your legs. Since I have only one, I’ve become a leg connoisseur.” He grinned and sat down behind his desk. “What did you think I meant?”
“I … I didn’t think anything,” Pia hastened to say, turning on her computer. Why was she so touchy?
She entered her password and checked her e-mail. Nothing special. The police server had the advantage of filtering out annoying spam and advertisements. Just as she was about to close the e-mail program, a new message popped up with the subject line
Lilly.
The sender was unfamiliar. She clicked on the e-mail, which had an attachment.
Little girls keep disappearing and are never found again. It would be a shame if that happened to this sweet little thing just because her mama keeps sticking her nose into things that are none of her business.
Attached was a photo that showed Lilly and Pia along with the dogs in one of the paddocks at Birkenhof. It was a little blurry, as though it had been taken from a great distance. Pia stared at the message for a couple of seconds, uncomprehending. Only gradually did it dawn on her what this e-mail meant, and she felt a chill. It was an unmistakable threat. They thought Lilly was her daughter and were threatening to do something to her if Pia didn’t stop … Well, what was she supposed to stop doing? What things had she stuck her nose into?
“Now don’t get all huffy just because I pay you a compliment,” said Kai. “But you really do have great—”
“Come over here and take a look at this,” Pia said, interrupting her colleague.
“What is it?” He went over to her desk. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“Here, look!” Pia rolled her chair away, grabbed her bag, and took out her cell. Her stomach was queasy, and her hands were shaking like crazy. She had to call Christoph right away and warn him. He couldn’t let Lilly out of his sight for even a millisecond.
“This is a threat that has to be taken seriously,” Kai agreed with a frown, looking at the sender’s address: “[email protected]—obviously a fake address. “The boss needs to see this.”
A little later, Bodenstein, Christian, Cem, and Kathrin were standing around Pia’s desk, looking somber. Pia had called Christoph, who’d grasped the seriousness of the situation at once and assured her that he would keep an eye on Lilly and impress on her to stay near him.
“You must have really stepped on some big shot’s toes,” Cem said.
“Yeah, but who?” Pia was still bewildered. Someone knew where she lived and had taken pictures of her and Lilly. The thought that somebody was sneaking around her house awakened deep fears that she thought she’d put aside long ago. “I don’t understand. We don’t know anything.”
“That’s obvious,” Bodenstein said, scrutinizing her. “Think hard. Whom have you talked to lately?”
Pia swallowed. Should she tell her boss that she had spoken with Behnke about Erik Lessing? Was the threat coming from that direction? Could Frank be behind it? Her eyes met Christian’s, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
There was a knock on the door. A female officer from the watch told them that the men were here for the lineup and waiting downstairs.
“We’ll be right there,” said Bodenstein. “You can’t do anything more than you’ve done, Pia. Kai will inform our colleagues in Königstein, and then all Christoph will have to do is call them if he notices anything suspicious.”
Pia nodded. It didn’t reassure her in the least, but her boss was right. For the moment, that was all she could do.
* * *
The weather god was merciful and granted her father-in-law for his eightieth birthday a cobalt blue sky scattered with puffy white clouds. Nothing would disrupt the reception and the party outdoors. Emma looked out the bathroom window onto the garden below as she dried her hair. Yesterday, Helmut Grasser and his diligent helpers had set up a speaker’s podium, chairs, cocktail tables, and a little stage for the various presentations. This morning, they’d installed the PA system and done a sound check. Everyone was very busy down there. The jazz band that Josef had received as a birthday present from Nicky, Sarah, Ralf, and Corinna had already been warming up for an hour, and the Sonnenkinder choir had also rehearsed. With the music playing in the background, Emma had been through a real struggle with her daughter, who had fought vigorously against wearing the pink-checked dress with the white collar, which she usually loved. Patience and a stern approach had been fruitless; no argument had worked. Louisa had insisted stubbornly on wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt. The little girl had become more and more defiant, until she’d finally broken out in hysterical shrieking that had even drowned out the tootling from the jazz band. But Emma had refused to give up, and finally she’d gotten the howling child into the dress. Now Louisa was sitting in her room sulking, and Emma had used the opportunity to take a quick shower and wash her hair.
It was high time to go downstairs. A catering service had provided canapés, finger food, glasses, dishes, flatware, and the drinks for the reception. Lunch for a smaller circle of invited guests was being prepared by the estate’s own cooks. The serving staff, which Corinna had also booked through the caterers, stood around, looking bored. It would probably be another forty-five minutes before the first official guests arrived, but Renate and Josef wanted to drink a toast with “their” children in honor of his birthday and this family reunion.
Emma sighed deeply and wished she could fast-forward time till evening. She used to love parties like this, but today she was dreading seeing Florian, and she was in no mood for small talk with the guests, who were of no importance to her. She went to the bedroom to squeeze into the lemon yellow maternity dress, which was the only garment from her wardrobe that still fit, although it, too, was tight. The phone rang. Renate.
“Emma, where are you? Most people are already here, except for Florian, you, and Louisa.”
“We’ll be right down,” Emma told her mother-in-law. “Five minutes.”
She hung up, glanced one more time in the mirror, not looking too closely, and walked down the hall to Louisa’s room. Empty! That darned kid! She wasn’t in the living room, either. Emma went in the kitchen.
“Louisa? Louisa! Come on, we have to go downstairs. Grandma already called and…” The words stuck in her throat. She clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at her little daughter in shock. Louisa was sitting on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only panties, with the kitchen shears in her hand. Her lovely blond hair, which they’d washed last night, lay in curls all around her on the floor.
“Oh my God, Louisa! What have you done?” Emma whispered, beside herself.
Louisa started sobbing and flung the shears down, making them clatter on the floor underneath the table. Her sobs increased to a desperate howl. Emma squatted down and reached out her hand, running it over the stubbly bristles sticking out in all directions from Louisa’s head. The girl flinched under her touch and turned her face away, but then she snuggled into Emma’s arms. Her body was shaking with violent sobs, and the tears flowed in torrents down her little face.
“Why did you cut off your beautiful hair?” Emma asked softly. She rocked the girl in her arms and cuddled her head to her cheek. It hadn’t been done on a whim, nor out of protest or anger. It broke her heart to see her daughter so unhappy and frightened and not be able to help her. “Tell me, why did you do that, sweetie?”
“Because I want to be
ugly,
” Louisa murmured, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.
* * *
She had turned off the alarm clock at eight and slept until ten. She had no job anymore and nobody who was waiting for her. After she’d been to Oberursel, Meike decided not to go back to Sachsenhausen, but to drive to Langenhain. After she got up, she spent half an hour in the Jacuzzi on the terrace and then tried out a few creams and peelings from the countless little bottles and jars she found in her mother’s bathroom. Hanna spent a fortune on this junk, but for her it seemed to work. Meike found her attempts anything but satisfactory. She looked like shit and had bad skin. Her mood sank toward zero.
“You ugly cow!” she said to her reflection, and made a face.
Downstairs, the front door opened. She raised her head in alarm and listened. Who could that be? The cleaning lady always came on Tuesdays, and no way would she voluntarily work overtime. Did some neighbor have a key? Meike crept down the hall, heart pounding as she pressed her body against the wall, and looked down into the entry hall. There were two men in the house! One had his back turned, but the other, a thin man with a beard and ponytail, ambled right into the kitchen as if he owned the place. Burglars in broad daylight!
Meike slunk back into Hanna’s bedroom, where she had slept, and looked around. Shit! Where was her cell? She rummaged through the bed, but then she remembered that she’d been listening to music in the Jacuzzi with the earbuds. Her phone was probably still there.
Instead of finding her cell, she stuck the Taser, which she always carried with her since Hanna’s attack, in the back pocket of her jeans. All she could do was slip downstairs and take off through the front door if she didn’t want to be caught upstairs by these guys. The two were banging around loudly on the ground floor. They were standing in the kitchen, and suddenly she heard the coffee grinder of the espresso machine. These guys really had balls.
Meike crouched at the top of the stairs and listened, holding her breath. To make her escape through the front door, she would have to wait for the optimal moment. Then one of the men came out of the kitchen with his cell pressed to his ear. Meike couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Wolfgang?” she said incredulously, and stood up.
The man jumped in fright and dropped the phone. He stared at her as if she were a ghost.
“W … w … what are you doing here?” he stammered. “Why aren’t you in Frankfurt?”
Meike came down the stairs.
“I stayed here overnight. Why are you here?” she replied coolly. She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d treated her yesterday. “And who’s your pal? Why do you think you can walk right in and even fix yourselves an espresso?”