Snow White Must Die (43 page)

She clenched her fists and pounded on his chest with a strength he wouldn’t have believed possible. Tobias had a hard time defending himself. Panting and stunned by this outburst, he stared at her.

“You fucking asshole!” Nadia screamed, the tears gushing from her eyes. “Why do you always think about other women? I always had to listen to you talking about what you’d said and done with some other girl! Haven’t you ever thought how that might hurt me? And now you’re lying here with me in bed and jabbering about that … that little slut!”

*   *   *

The thick, damp fog lifted and completely dissipated in the Taunus. Driving on the B8, bright sunshine greeted them as they left the woods beyond Glashütten. Oliver flipped the sun visor down.

“Lauterbach will turn up,” he said to Pia. “He’s a politician and concerned about his reputation. His wife probably called him long ago.”

“Well, I hope so.” Pia didn’t quite share the optimism of her boss. “Claudius Terlinden is being watched, at any rate.”

The phone lines between K-11, the district attorney’s office, and the court were jammed up since Jörg Richter’s confession that Laura was still alive when he and his friends threw her into the underground tank. She had begged for her life, crying and screaming, until they had rolled the lid over the hole. It was clear that in the case of Laura Wagner the proceedings would have to be reopened, and that Tobias Sartorius would be exonerated. If he ever showed up. As of now there had been no sign of him.

Oliver turned left and drove through the village of Kröftel toward Heftrich. Just before the entrance to Heftrich stood the farm which Stefanie Schneeberger’s parents had purchased ten years ago. A big sign pointed the way to the farm store, where only organic produce from their own fields that they had grown themselves was sold. Oliver pulled in at the farm, which was spick and span. They got out and looked around. There was hardly anything left of the dreary functionality of the former homestead farm, one of many that had been set up en masse in the sixties for returning Germans from eastern Europe. The Schneebergers had added on buildings and remodeled those that already existed. Under the new awning of the middle building, in which the farm store was located, fall flower arrangements waited for buyers. The roofs of the buildings were covered with solar and photovoltaic panels. Two cats were lolling on the steps of the farmhouse, enjoying the rare sunshine.

The store was closed for lunch, and no one answered the door at the house either. Oliver and Pia went into the bright barn where large stalls housed cows with calves, standing knee-deep in straw or lying contently chewing their cuds. What a sight, compared with the usual animal husbandry with its narrow pens. In the rear courtyard two eight- or nine-year-old girls were currying a horse that patiently submitted to their affectionate grooming.

“Hello!” Pia said to the two girls. They were as alike as two eggs and were unmistakably the younger sisters of the dead Stefanie. The same dark hair, the same big brown eyes. “Are your parents home?”

“Mom is over there in the horse stable,” one of them replied, pointing to the long building behind the cow barn. “Dad is hauling away the manure with the tractor.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Beate Schneeberger was just sweeping the stable aisle when Oliver and Pia came inside. She looked up when the Jack Russell terrier that had been rummaging after mice in an empty stall began to bark.

“Hello?” Bodenstein called and then stopped. The terrier was small but still shouldn’t be underestimated.

“It’s all right to come closer.” The woman gave him a friendly smile without interrupting what she was doing. “Bobby makes a lot of noise, but that’s all. What can I do for you?”

Bodenstein introduced himself and Kirchhoff. Beate Schneeberger stopped. The smile vanished from her face. She was a beautiful woman, but care and sorrow had left clear traces on her even features.

“We came to tell you that your daughter Stefanie’s body has been found,” Bodenstein said.

Mrs. Schneeberger looked at him with big brown eyes and nodded. Like Laura’s mother, she reacted calmly and with composure.

“Let’s go in the house,” she said. “I’ll call my husband. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

She leaned the broom on one of the stall doors and got her cell out of the pocket of her down vest.

“Albert,” she said. “Can you please come to the house? The police are here. They’ve found Stefanie.”

*   *   *

Amelie woke up because in her dream she thought she’d heard a light splashing sound. She was thirsty. She had a terrible, torturous thirst. Her tongue stuck to her palate and her mouth was as dry as paper. A couple of hours ago she and Thies had eaten the last couple of crackers and then drank the last of the water. Amelie had heard that people had saved themselves from dying of thirst by drinking their own urine. The narrow strip of light under the ceiling told her that outside their prison it was daytime. She could make out the contours of the bookshelf on the other side of the cellar room. Thies lay curled up next to her on the mattress, his head in her lap, sleeping soundly. How did he get here? Who had locked them both in? And where were they, anyway? Amelie’s despair grew. She would have liked to cry, but she didn’t want to wake up Thies, even though her leg had gone to sleep under the weight of his head. She licked her dry tongue over her chapped lips. There it was again. That gurgling and splashing sound. As if somewhere a faucet was running. If she got out of here she swore that she would never waste water again. She used to pour out whatever was left in a half-full bottle of soda if it had gone flat. What she wouldn’t give now for a swallow of lukewarm, flat Coke.

Her gaze roamed over the room and stopped at the door. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that water was actually trickling through the gap. Excitedly she pushed Thies off her lap, swearing as her numb leg refused to obey. On all fours she crawled across the floor, which was already wet. Like a dog she greedily licked up the water, moistening her face and laughing. God had heard her desperate prayers. He wasn’t going to let her die of thirst after all. More and more water was coming in under the door, splashing down the three steps like a lovely little waterfall. Amelie stopped laughing and straightened up.

“That’s enough water, dear Lord,” she whispered, but God didn’t hear her. The water kept on coming, already forming a big puddle on the bare cement floor. Amelie’s whole body began to tremble with fear. She had never wished for anything more ardently, but now that her wish for water had come true, this wasn’t exactly what she had hoped.

Thies had woken up. He was sitting on the mattress with his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth. She frantically considered going over to the bookshelf and shaking it. It was rusty but seemed stable enough. Whoever had locked her and Thies in here must have turned on the water. This room was apparently deeper than the rest of the cellar. There was no drain in the floor, and the narrow light coming from outside was right under the ceiling. If the water kept running it would eventually flood the room. They would drown like rats. Amelie looked around wildly. Damn! She had survived this long without flipping out, without starving to death or dying of thirst, so she had no intention of drowning. She leaned over Thies and took his arm in a firm grip.

“Get up!” she ordered him. “Come on, Thies! Help me put the mattress on top of the bookshelf!”

To her amazement he stopped rocking back and forth and stood up. Together they managed to heave the heavy mattress onto the top of the bookshelf. Maybe the water wouldn’t reach that far, then they’d be safe up there. And with each hour that passed the likelihood that someone would find them increased. Somebody would have to notice the running water—a neighbor, the water company, or someone else. Cautiously Amelie climbed up onto the bookshelf so that it wouldn’t fall over. When she reached the top she stretched out her hand to Thies. She hoped the old rusty thing would hold both of them. A moment later he was sitting next to her on the mattress. In the meantime the water had covered the floor of the cellar room and was still flowing through the crack under the door. Now all they could do was wait. Amelie shifted her weight and carefully stretched out on the mattress.

“So,” she said with a hint of gallows humor. “I guess that’s what you get from wishing. When I was a kid I always wished for a bunk bed. Now I finally have it.”

*   *   *

Beate Schneeberger led Oliver and Pia into the dining room and offered them seats at the massive table, right next to the huge tile stove radiating a pleasant warmth. From the many tiny rooms of the former farmhouse they had made a single huge room, and only the load-bearing beams remained. The result seemed modern and yet was surprisingly cozy.

“Please wait until my husband gets here,” said Mrs. Schneeberger. “I’ll make us some tea.”

She went into the kitchen, which was also open on all sides. Oliver and Pia exchanged a glance. Unlike the Wagners, whose lives had fallen apart when their daughter disappeared, the Schneebergers seemed to have managed to survive the pain and start over. And then they had the twin girls.

Not five minutes later a big, gaunt, white-haired man in a checked shirt and blue work pants entered the dining room. Albert Schneeberger shook hands with Kirchhoff first, then Bodenstein. He too had a calm and serious demeanor. They waited until Mrs. Schneeberger had served the tea, then Bodenstein cautiously told them all the details. Albert Schneeberger stood behind his wife’s chair, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Their sadness was palpable, but also the relief at finally learning the fate of their child.

“Do you know who did it?” asked Beate Schneeberger.

“No, we’re not sure yet,” said Bodenstein. “We only know that it could not have been Tobias Sartorius.”

“Then he was convicted unjustly?”

“Yes, it looks that way.”

For a while they said nothing. Albert Schneeberger looked thoughtfully out the big picture windows at his daughters, who were peaceably grooming the horse.

“I never should have let Terlinden talk me into moving to Altenhain,” he said suddenly. “We had an apartment in Frankfurt but were looking for a house in the country, because in the city Stefanie had fallen in with the wrong crowd.”

“How did you know Claudius Terlinden?”

“I actually knew Wilhelm, his older brother. We had studied together and later became business partners. After his death I got to know Claudius. My firm was one of his suppliers. Something developed between us that I falsely assumed was friendship. Terlinden rented us the house near his on the same street.” Albert Schneeberger heaved a deep sigh and sat down next to his wife. “I knew that he was very interested in my company. Our know-how and patents were an ideal match for his concept and very important to him. At that time he was working on forming a corporation and going public. Eventually he made me an offer. There were several interested parties. Terlinden had a lot of competition at the time.”

He paused and sipped his tea.

“Then our daughter disappeared.” His voice sounded matter-of-fact, but they couldn’t help noticing how difficult it was for him to recall those horrible events. “Terlinden and his wife were very sympathetic and attentive. Real friends, as we thought at first. I was hardly in a position to worry about my business. We did everything we could to search for Stefanie, got involved with various organizations, the radio, the TV. When Terlinden made me a new offer, I took it. The company didn’t matter to me; I could only think of Stefanie. I always hoped that she would turn up someday.”

He cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his composure. His wife put her hand on his and squeezed it gently.

After a while Schneeberger went on. “We had agreed that Terlinden would not change the structure of the company and would keep all the employees on. But what happened was the direct opposite. Terlinden found a loophole in the contracts. He went to the stock exchange, broke up my company, sold everything he didn’t need, and laid off eighty of a hundred and thirty employees. I was in no position to defend myself. It was … horrible. All those people that I knew so well, were suddenly unemployed. None of it would have happened if I’d been able to think straight back then.”

He rubbed his hand over his face.

“Beate and I decided to leave Altenhain. It had become intolerable to live next door to that … that man. The way he put pressure on the people in his company and in the village and manipulated them, and all under the pretense of his benevolence.”

“Do you think that Terlinden did something to your daughter so he could get at your company?” Kirchhoff asked.

“Since they found Stefanie’s … corpse on his property, it seems quite possible.” Schneeberger’s voice faltered, and he pressed his lips together. “To be honest, my wife and I could never really imagine that Tobias would do anything to our daughter. But there was all that circumstantial evidence and all that testimony from witnesses. In the end we no longer knew what to believe. At first we suspected Thies. He used to follow Stefanie around like a shadow…”

He shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know whether Terlinden would have gone that far,” he said then. “But he exploited our situation without batting an eye. The man is an evil speculator and a liar with no conscience. He will literally trample on corpses to get whatever he wants.”

*   *   *

Oliver’s cell phone rang. He had turned over the wheel to Pia so he took the call without looking at the display. When he unexpectedly heard Cosima’s voice, he gave a start.

“We have to talk,” she said. “Reasonably.”

“I don’t have time right now,” he replied. “We’re in the middle of an interview. I’ll call you later.”

With that he punched off the conversation without saying good-bye. He’d never done that before.

They had left the valley and the bright sunshine was cut off. Gloomy gray fog surrounded them again. In silence they drove through Glashütten.

“What would you do in my place?” Oliver asked abruptly. Pia hesitated. She vividly remembered her disappointment when she learned about Henning’s affair with District Attorney Valerie Löblich. By that time they had already been separated for more than a year. But Henning had continued to deny it until Pia caught him and Löblich in flagrante. Had her marriage not already been in pieces, that would have been the last straw. In Oliver’s place she would never be able to trust Cosima again. When it came down to it, she had consistently lied to him. An affair was also something other than getting a little on the side, which under certain circumstances was excusable.