I Am Your Judge: A Novel (11 page)

“Shots fired in the Main-Taunus shopping center,” said Pia, jumping up. “Kai, please try to reach the boss. Kathrin and I are going over there now.”

“I’ll come along,” said Neff, eyes glistening.

“No, you won’t.” Pia grabbed her jacket and backpack. “If we need you, we’ll let you know.”

“What am I supposed to do here?”

“Keep working on the big picture,” Pia suggested. “That’s why we called you in.”

*   *   *

“I’ll help you, Papa,” Sophia told him, dragging the little plastic footstool from the bathroom to the kitchen. “I know what you need to put in chicken soup.”

She placed the stool next to him.

“Really?” Oliver von Bodenstein was somewhere else entirely in his mind and forced himself to smile. “And what would that be?”

“Well, first water. Then salt, pepper, and soup greens,” the girl ticked off on her fingers, leaning against the counter. “And chicken meat. But from an organic chicken, not a soup chicken. Oh yeah, and mushrooms. I love mushrooms.”

“Sounds good,” said Oliver. “That’s exactly how we’ll make it.”

“I want to cut up the carrots,” Sophia demanded, pulling out a drawer and taking out the biggest knife.

“Maybe you’d do better washing the mushrooms.” Oliver took the gigantic chef’s knife away from her.

“That’s boring. Mama always lets me cut up the carrots.” The little girl frowned and began fidgeting.

“Sorry,” said Oliver.

“But I know how to do it!”

“Mushrooms or nothing.”

“Then nothing.” Sophia jumped down from the stool and gave it a kick that sent it flying across the kitchen. She crossed her arms and sat down on the floor, sulking demonstratively.

Oliver decided to let her pout. The weekends with his younger daughter were getting more exhausting every time. From morning to night, she demanded his attention. She was intensely jealous of Rosalie and Inka, and was always acting up. Cosima apparently allowed her to do almost anything as long as she could get some sleep. Just as it was back when Lorenz and Rosalie were small. He had clearly had more to do with the children on a daily basis than she ever did, since she was always at the office or going off on business trips. Whenever she was at home for a while, it was hard for her to find her place, because the kids were used to a life without their mother. To make herself popular with them, she had spoiled both of them and allowed them to do all the things that Oliver usually prohibited. Soon the kids were taking full advantage of their mother and showing her no respect. Cosima had tried to be strict, but she was never consistent about it. During this whole period, Oliver had mediated any disputes and made sure that the rules were enforced.

These tactics had failed with Sophia, as was clearly noticeable from her behavior. The six-year-old had never learned to go without or to follow the rules. She easily wrapped her grandparents and babysitters around her little finger, but her charm didn’t cut any ice with her father. He recognized that a big problem was developing behind that pretty little face of hers, and he asked himself what he should do about it. Was it because of Sophia that Inka had still not moved in with him as they had planned? She hadn’t come right out and said so, but for quite a while now, Inka had stayed away on daddy-weekends. Oliver felt left in the lurch. When he had asked her about it, she replied that she got no attention from him anyway when Sophia was there, so she might as well stay home or work at the horse clinic.

It hadn’t come to any open quarrel between them—it never got that far with Inka—but the essence of the conversation was an unspoken “her or me,” which left Oliver equally disappointed and relieved because Inka had made an important decision for him. Maybe it was cowardly of him; maybe it was selfish or merely a matter of convenience. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he had neither the desire nor the energy to make compromises that would extend for years into the future by bringing up a third child.

Cosima had taken him by surprise when she waited until late in the pregnancy and presented him with a fait accompli. That was the beginning of the end. The baby hadn’t been enough to satisfy her need to feel young again. She had thrown herself into an affair, taking no heed of her family. With that, she had destroyed everything. Not only her marriage, but also the opportunity for her younger daughter to grow up with both a mother and a father in the same house. Oliver asked himself over and over why he had to suffer the consequences of this situation when it was Cosima, in her boundless selfishness, who had brought it on. The relationship with the Russian adventurer had quickly crumbled. The man had been looking for a spirited lover, not an exhausted mother with a toddler.

When Oliver bought the house in Ruppertshain, he’d also been thinking of Sophia and that it would be easier for him to have her stay with him, not just on specified weekends, but also in an emergency. Yet he was not prepared to rearrange his whole life because of his daughter, or to jeopardize his relationship with Inka.

His cell phone rang as soon as he sat down at the table and had eaten a bowl of soup. It was Pia, and her voice sounded strained.

“We’re on our way to the Main-Taunus Center,” she said. “Shots have been fired, and the whole place is probably in chaos. We haven’t heard yet whether there are any dead or injured.”

At these words, fear raced through Bodenstein, and he felt panic rise inside him. Rosalie had gone to the mall an hour and a half ago to shop for a few last-minute items before she left for New York.

“I’ll come as soon as I can find somebody to watch the kid,” he said brusquely, and got up. “Keep me posted.”

Then he tapped in Rosalie’s number with trembling fingers. The call went through, but she didn’t pick up. He tried to think clearly. On a day like today, thousands of people would go to the mall. Why would anything happen to her, of all people? But didn’t everyone think and hope the same thing when a tragedy struck? Somebody was injured or killed, and all those spared by fate were glad that they weren’t affected.

Oliver phoned Inka, who picked up at once.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to work,” he said. “Could I bring Sophia over to the clinic?”

“I’m still with a patient,” she said after a tiny pause. “But bring her to the clinic. Mrs. Wagner can watch her until I get back.”

“I don’t know what time I’ll be able to pick her up.” Bodenstein turned off the stove. “There were shots fired at the Main-Taunus Center, and I’m worried about Rosalie. She was heading for the mall, and now I can’t reach her.”

“I’m sure all hell has broken loose over there,” Inka said. “She wouldn’t be able to hear her cell. Don’t worry. And it doesn’t matter if it’s late.”

That was one thing he appreciated about Inka. Just like him, she calmly tackled every problem that came up, without hesitation. She was completely different from Cosima, who always had to weigh how difficult, complicated, and unpleasant something might be when he made a suggestion.

“What about the soup?” Sophia piped up. She had a calculating expression on her face that Oliver did not like at all.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “It’s too late. I have to go. Hurry and get your things, I’m taking you to Inka’s.”

“But I—”

“End of discussion,” he cut her off. “Put on your shoes and jacket. Right now.”

Sophia looked at him in bewilderment.

“But I’m hungry!”

“I’m sorry.” He picked up his own scarf and coat and held out her down jacket. “Come on.”

“No.” The girl crossed her arms stubbornly and sat down on the floor. Bodenstein felt his nerves jangling.

“Sophia, that’s enough,” he said sternly. “I have to go to work, and I don’t have time to discuss this with you. If you aren’t dressed in three minutes and on the way to my car, I’m going to be very angry.”

“And then what?” she asked in Cosima’s exact tone of voice.

“No Christmas presents. No watching movies. I’m not kidding.”

“You’re so mean!” Sophia yelled, and tears sprayed from her eyes. “I hate you!”

*   *   *

The Main-Taunus Center was in chaos. Not everyone had heard the shots fired in the upper floor of the mall, but the rumor of an attack, of people dead and wounded, spread like wildfire. Terrified people were jamming into the already-packed stores to seek shelter. Others were trying to flee from the mall and were prevented from doing so by the teams of police who had completely locked it down shortly after the emergency call came in.

Pia and Kathrin were wearing their bulletproof Kevlar vests as they accompanied the hundreds of riot police moving along the completely deserted walkways. No one knew exactly where the shooter had been positioned, or whether he was still there or had managed to escape long before. It was better to stay under cover. The floor was strewn with shopping bags and articles of clothing that people had dropped as they fled or that had been torn from their grasp in the general panic. Several SWAT commandos from Frankfurt were combing through the entire shopping center, looking for the shooter and his victims. Everyone thought they were hot on the sniper’s heels, but for Pia, something felt phony. It didn’t make sense that the shooter would strike in a crowded shopping center. Someone like that would plan in advance how he could make his escape. There was a high risk that he would be seen as he fired his gun and then got held up by the anticipated mass panic. On the other hand, the crowd provided protection, because he could simply mix in with everyone else. But he’d have to carry his weapon with him.

The Christmas music was turned off, and the silence was eerie, the only sound coming from the helicopter that was circling high above the buildings. Behind the display windows of the shops, people were packed in like terrified fish in overcrowded aquariums.

“There are a lot of injured people who need help,” the shopping center manager said to Pia. “Can’t we at least let the ambulances through?”

The slim, tall man in his fifties was hurrying along next to Pia. She could see that he’d been through hell in the past hour. He’d had to watch helplessly as his own security team, who had been thoroughly trained for just such a worst-case scenario, got trampled by the crowds. In the passageways to the parking garage, there were scores of injuries as hundreds of people fearing for their lives had tried to squeeze through the doors. In the parking garage and outside in the huge parking lots, cars had slammed into each other. Some people had used the chaos to loot merchandise from the stores. When the security team tried to intervene, fights erupted, resulting in even more injuries. It was supposed to have been the best day of the year for the shopping center, but it had turned into the worst day ever.

“We have broken bones, lacerations, and crush injuries,” the head of the mall told Pia. “Kids were trampled, and one woman had a heart attack. They desperately need medical attention!”

“I’m well aware of that. But there’s probably a guy still running around somewhere with a gun.” Pia stopped and scrutinized the pale but determined face of the man. What should she do now? Get help for the injured and risk that somebody might be killed elsewhere? Or give the sniper the chance to get away?

You cover up this uncertainty, of which you are probably unaware, with an aggressive attitude
. Andreas Neff’s words were echoing in her head. Damn it!

Stay calm,
Pia silently admonished herself. Bodenstein wasn’t here, and she was the highest-ranking police officer on-site. She had to set priorities and make a decision. Right now.

“Kathrin,” said Pia, turning to her colleague. “Please tell them to let in the medics and ambulances.”

“Okay.” Kathrin nodded and grabbed her walkie-talkie.

“Thank you,” said the shopping center manager with relief. He turned on his heel and hurried off.

Pia’s walkie-talkie crackled.

“Suspect apprehended!” came the voice of the SWAT commander loud and clear, and a wave of relief flooded through Pia’s body. “In the second floor of the parking garage by the bus station. We’ve also secured the weapon.”

“We’re on our way,” she replied, and dashed off.

*   *   *

The splintering of glass, a thud, and then a bloodcurdling scream made her jump, sending an icy shiver down her spine.

Greta,
she instantly thought. She dropped the ballpoint pen she’d been using to write the shopping list, leaped up from the dining room table, and ran into the kitchen. There stood Greta, and for a second, she was relieved because nothing had happened to her daughter. But then she saw the blood on Greta’s face and on the new sweater that she’d slipped on. Her heart seemed to miss a couple of beats. Greta had stopped screaming, but she was staring wide-eyed at the floor, and Karoline followed her gaze. What she saw shattered her world. On the worn-out black and cream-colored floor tiles lay Mama, and a pool of blood had formed around her head. Blood, everywhere blood, with bright skull fragments and yellowish brain matter mixed in. The blood spread over the tiles and had sprayed over the white cupboards. She knelt down and touched Mama’s hand. Her skin was so warm. Maybe she had simply fainted and hit her head on the counter.

“Mama,” she whispered. “Mama, wake up!”

She touched her on the shoulder and shook her lightly. Mama’s head tipped to the side, but instead of her face, there was only a bloody mass.

Karoline Albrecht shot upright in her bed. Her heart was racing so fast that it hurt. She was drenched in sweat and freezing at the same time.

Mama was dead.

It was no nightmare.

She let herself sink down onto the mattress again, closing her eyes and hoping she could fall asleep in order to delay confronting a reality that she didn’t feel adult enough to face. If she could only get rid of these images! In the dream, she had seen everything so distinctly, every hideous detail, and she had relived her horror and her fear. On that evening, she had grabbed Greta, who was sobbing hysterically, and pulled her out of the kitchen. Everything that happened after that, she remembered only in fragments. At some point, Carsten had been there and also the police, and then Papa arrived.… To see him like that, wailing in despair, was almost as terrible as the sight of Mama’s missing face. Karoline sighed in torment. How was she going to carry on? How would anyone act after seeing her own mother shot down? What would other people expect of her? All her life she had dealt with problems by using logic and making rational decisions. She had always focused on finding solutions, but this time, it wasn’t working. Her heart was clenched tight.
Don’t cry,
she told herself. She could not give in to grief, or she would fall apart.