Ursula Archer - Five

Drasche’s surprise about the fingerprints. The Owner’s silence. An IV needle.

The varying difficulty levels of the puzzles. And what was the point of them anyway?

Then the references to Evelyn, which she should have understood a lot sooner.

‘Coffee?’ Florin was standing next to the espresso machine, holding up two cups.

She stopped herself from snapping at him for interrupting her train of thought. ‘Yes, please. Strong.’

He pressed the buttons. ‘When are you going to tell me what’s going on in your head?’

‘When I’m sure it’s not just nonsense.’

‘Okay.’ It was clear he wasn’t content with the answer. ‘But I’d really prefer it if we could all discuss new approaches as a team. Or at least between the two of us.’

‘We will. When I’m ready.’ He would just have to be annoyed at her. Some threads of thought are so delicate that they tear and blow away if you try to put them into words. ‘Give me another few hours.’ In her mind’s eye, she saw the needle stuck into Sigart’s vein. It seemed inconceivable. If you’re that fond of him, I’ll keep him for you until the end .

The end , thought Beatrice, can’t be that far away now .

She left the office earlier than usual; Florin’s probing looks were too off-putting. The feeling that her thoughts were going round in circles evaporated as soon as she stepped out into the fresh air.

The children were spending the evening at Mooserhof again; Achim had to take a client out for dinner. In those circumstances, of course, handing over the children was completely fine. Everything was always fine if he did it. But at least he had taken them to her mother’s, where they would be content.

When she arrived at the restaurant, Jakob clung to her like a monkey on a tree. ‘I want to go home,’ he mumbled. ‘Are you taking us with you tonight?’

Soon. Next week. Tomorrow . She pulled him close and buried her face in his hair. ‘We’re almost finished. Listen – either we catch the guy in the next three days, or I’ll tell Florin that he has to keep looking by himself. Then I’ll just do a few smaller things and I’ll even be able to pick you up from school every day too.’

‘Honest?’

‘I promise.’ The thought of giving up the case she had been so intensely involved in from the start made a painful hole in her pride. But it had already had too much of an impact on the children.

‘Cool!’ Jakob jumped down to go and tell his Oma the happy news.

Beatrice hugged Mina. ‘I’m so looking forward to having you both back with me,’ she said, feeling Mina nod against her chest.

They spent the evening eating and playing cards in the restaurant. Beatrice tried very hard to lose at Mau-Mau, and ate fried beef and onions in gravy, realising with surprise that she was incredibly hungry. Richard served her a taster dessert plate, of which she didn’t leave a single crumb.

‘Three days?’ Jakob checked, as she put him to bed.

‘Three days and not one more.’

On the way home, she tried with all her might to convince herself that she wouldn’t mind taking a step back. Stefan could take over her tasks and pass his own to Bechner. And then I’ll do Bechner’s stuff , she thought. All those menial tasks I give him .

Before she had a chance to smile at the thought, her mobile rang.

‘Sigart has disappeared.’ Florin sounded fraught. ‘The hospital has already been searched. Theoretically it’s still possible that he just pulled the IV line out and decided to go for a walk, but no one has seen him for two hours.’

The information sank in Beatrice’s stomach like a stone. The kaleidoscope turned yet again. ‘Okay, I’m near Theodebertstrasse right now, so I’ll drive past his flat and see if there’s a light on.’

‘Okay. Keep me posted.’

Beatrice looked at the clock. It was just before 10 p.m. She could park the car opposite the postal depot and walk across to Theodebertstrasse on foot.

At number thirty-three, it was dark behind the windows of the first floor. She stopped in front of the entrance and thought of the blood they had found here last time. AB negative, rare and precious. Her thoughts raced on. Blood transfusions. IV needles.

A car drove past, and for a few seconds the headlights blinded her, making her feel strangely vulnerable. Then the beam of light fell on something else.

A red Honda Civic, parked diagonally opposite.

It wasn’t a rare model of car by any means. But it was an interesting coincidence nonetheless. Beatrice quickly crossed the street and could already feel the disappointment bearing down on her shoulders as she approached. It couldn’t be Nora’s car; it had Hungarian number plates. But just to make sure she wasn’t overlooking anything, Beatrice leant down to peer into the passenger-side window. The hazy street lighting fell on two empty, crumpled-up water bottles, a newspaper and a leather bag.

She squinted, trying to see more clearly. So perhaps it was Nora’s car after all. It wasn’t yet hard proof, of course, she would need to break into the car and—

‘How convenient. I was just on my way to you.’

She didn’t get a chance to turn around towards the voice. A blow to her neck, a sharp, burning pain, and the world disappeared into a racing vortex, a whirlpool tugging her away into nothingness.

Blows all over her body. Her legs, her back, her behind. As if through thick cotton wool. Everywhere but her head. Then emptiness again.

Come up for air. Time has vanished. Open eyes… can’t. Darkness. Drifting in and out of consciousness.

Her breathing was slow and heavy. It was the first thing she became aware of, and it filled her with a vague sensation of gratitude at still being alive. She tried to grasp what had happened, wanting to remember, but the thoughts slipped out of her mind like wet soap through her fingers.

At least her body was obeying her. She flexed her toes, coughed. She wanted to hold her head, but her hands wouldn’t move. Beatrice opened her eyes.

She knew this place. But where from? She didn’t like it, but she knew she had been here before. With… a man. Not her ex-husband, another man – Florin.

As if his name had been the password to her memory, everything rushed back to her, not neatly ordered, but in a torrent. She swallowed, with difficulty, and deliberately ignored the ridged, filthy wood of the table in front of her. Once again, she tried to move her hands away from her body.

A dull pain shot through her; she still couldn’t do it. I’m tied up , she thought, picturing the woman in the cow pasture in her mind, the cable tie around her wrists. She just couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Everything was blurry and out of focus, as if she was floating through murky water. But she was sitting down. On a chair, and her hands were… behind her.

Nora Papenberg , she finally remembered. That was her name.

She closed her eyes, trying to find her way back into her mind. But now the pain was breaking out of the thickly insulated room it had been lurking in. It bit hard into her back. Into her hips. Her wrists. Beatrice tensed her shoulder muscles. It was bearable, just about. A small price to pay for a clear head. She listened.

Someone was here. Quiet footsteps in the background, a rustling sound. If she twisted her upper body just a little, she would be able to see him. But it was too soon for that; she had to get a grip of herself first. If he gave her enough time, that was.

‘Good evening,’ said a voice behind her. Quiet and polite.

So she had been right.

‘Good evening, Herr Sigart.’ She waited for him to come over and sit opposite her at the table, but he didn’t move. No footsteps on the stone floor.