Pia looked up from the letter. Lars Terlinden had dated his farewell letter the day before and used the bank letterhead where he worked. But what had triggered this confession and his suicide?
“Lars Terlinden committed suicide yesterday,” said Bodenstein, clearing his throat. “We found his body this morning.”
Tobias did not react, only stared mutely into space.
“Well, then.” Bodenstein took the letter from Pia. “Now at least we know why Claudius Terlinden took over the debts of your parents and visited you in prison.”
“Come on.” Pia touched Tobias’s arm. He was wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, and his skin felt cold. “You’re going to catch your death out here. Let’s go inside.”
“They raped Laura when she came out of our house,” he said suddenly, tonelessly. “Right here in the stable.”
Bodenstein and Pia exchanged a startled look.
“Who?” asked Bodenstein.
“Felix, J?rg, and Michael. My friends. They were drunk. Laura had been teasing them all evening. The situation got out of control. Then Laura ran off, straight into Lars’s arms. She stumbled, fell, and was dead.” He spoke with no emotion, almost indifferently.
“How do you know this?”
“They were just here and told me.”
“Eleven years too late,” said Pia.
Tobias heaved a sigh. “They loaded Laura’s body into the trunk of my car and threw it in the tank at the old airfield. Lars ran away. I never saw him again. My best friend. And then today this letter came…”
His blue eyes focused on Pia. Only now did she realize that against all odds her hunch about this man’s innocence had actually been right.
“What about Stefanie?” Bodenstein asked. “And where is Amelie?”
Tobias took a deep breath and shook his head.
“I don’t know. Honestly. I have absolutely no idea.”
Someone came into the cow stable behind them, and the two detectives turned around. It was Hartmut Sartorius. He was deathly pale and could only contain his agitation with the utmost effort.
“Lars is dead, Dad,” said Tobias in a low voice. Hartmut Sartorius squatted down in front of his son and embraced him awkwardly. Tobias closed his eyes and leaned on his father. Pia found the sight very moving. Would the suffering these two had endured ever end? The ringtone of Bodenstein’s cell phone broke the silence. He took the call and went outside to the barnyard.
“Are you going … to arrest Tobias now?” Hartmut Sartorius asked in an uncertain voice, looking up at Pia.
“We have a few questions for him,” she replied regretfully. “Unfortunately there is still the suspicion that Tobias had something to do with the disappearance of Amelie Fr?hlich. And as long as that’s not cleared up…”
“Pia!” Bodenstein yelled from the barnyard. She turned and went out to join him. In the meantime the backup they’d ordered had arrived. Two officers got out of their car and walked toward them.
“That was Ostermann,” Bodenstein told her, punching a number into his phone. “He deciphered the secret writing in Amelie’s diary. In her last entry she writes that Thies showed her the mummy of Snow White in the cellar below his studio … Yes?… Bodenstein here … Kr?ger, I need you and your team to go out to the Terlinden estate in Altenhain. Where the fire was today. Yes, right away!”
He looked at Pia and she understood what was going on in his head.
“You mean Amelie might be there?”
He nodded, then rubbed his chin pensively and frowned.
“Call Behnke and tell him to get a couple of guys and bring the three men Tobias mentioned down to the station,” he instructed Pia. “Send a patrol car to pick up Lauterbach, one to his private residence and another to his office in Wiesbaden. I want to talk to him today. We also have to talk to Claudius Terlinden; he doesn’t yet know about his son’s suicide. And in case we actually do find the hidden cellar, we need a medical examiner.”
“You suspended Behnke from service,” Pia reminded him. “But Kathrin could do it. And what about Tobias?”
“I’ll tell our colleagues to take him to Hofheim. He’ll just have to wait for us there.”
Pia nodded and grabbed her phone to relay the instructions. She dictated to Kathrin the names of Felix Pietsch, Michael Dombrowski, and J?rg Richter, then she went back inside the cowshed. She watched as Tobias got to his feet and then leaned heavily on his father.
“My colleagues are going to take you to Hofheim,” she told Tobias. “They’re waiting in the yard for you.”
Tobias Sartorius nodded.
“Pia!” Bodenstein yelled impatiently from outside. “Come on!”
“So we’ll see you later.” Pia nodded to the two men and left.
* * *
A patrol car was parked in front of the Lauterbachs’ house when Bodenstein and Pia drove past. A few yards farther on they drove through the open gate into the Terlinden estate, climbed out, and walked across the lawn to the smoldering ruins of the orangerie. The blackened stone walls were still standing, but the roof had partially fallen in.
“We have to get in there right away,” Bodenstein told one of the firemen who had stayed behind to watch the fire site.
“Can’t be done.” The fireman shook his head. “The walls could come down at any minute, and the roof is unstable. Nobody’s going in there.”
“Yes, we are,” Bodenstein insisted. “We’ve received information that there’s a cellar underneath. And the girl who disappeared may be locked in down there.”
That changed the situation completely. The fireman conferred with his colleagues and made a phone call. Bodenstein, also on the phone, walked back and forth and around the burned-out building. It was impossible for him to stand still. This damned waiting! The evidence techs arrived and a little later a fire department car pulled in, along with a dark blue vehicle from the Technical Rescue Organization. Pia learned from the patrol officers that the Lauterbachs weren’t at home. She got the number of the head secretariat at the Cultural Ministry in Wiesbaden and was told that the cultural minister had been out sick for three days and had not come to the office. So, where was he? She leaned on the fender, lit a cigarette, and waited for Bodenstein to take a break from his telephone marathon for a few seconds. In the meantime the people from the fire department and rescue crew had begun to search through what remained of the roof and walls of the orangerie. Using heavy equipment they carefully cleared away the smoking debris and set up floodlights because it was already getting dark.
Kathrin Fachinger called and reported success: Felix Pietsch, J?rg Richter, and Michael Dombrowski were at the station. None of them had resisted arrest. But there was more news that excited Pia. Ostermann had looked through the five hundred photos on Amelie Fr?hlich’s iPod and found pictures of paintings that could be the ones Thies had given her. Searching for Bodenstein, Pia trudged across the mushy lawn that had turned into a muddy mess beneath the tires of the heavy vehicles. Her boss was standing expressionless in front of the orangerie, smoking a cigarette. Just as she was about to show him the pictures from the iPod, the men inside the ruins began to shout and wave. Bodenstein woke from his torpor, dropped the butt, and went inside. Pia followed on his heels, It was still very hot inside the building that had been ablaze only a few hours earlier.
“We found something,” the fireman reported who had been leading the work after the captain of the squad had failed to show up. “A trap door. We’re trying to get it open.”
* * *
The street was dry, and the traffic jam on the A5 had dissolved beyond the Frankfurt interchange. Nadia stepped on the gas as soon as the speed limit was lifted and accelerated to 125 miles an hour. Tobias was sitting in the passenger seat. He had closed his eyes and hadn’t uttered a sound since they took off. It was all too much for him. His thoughts were circling around what he had learned this afternoon. Felix, Michael, and J?rg. He had thought they were his friends. And Lars, who’d been like a brother to him. They had killed Laura and hidden her body in the tank at the old airfield, but never said a word. They had let him go through hell and kept silent for eleven years. Why had they suddenly decided to come clean? Why now? He felt a deeply upsetting disappointment. Only a few days ago they had drunk beer with him, laughing and exchanging memories from the old days—and the whole time they were fully aware of what they had done, what they had done to him! He sighed heavily. Nadia grasped his hand and squeezed. Tobias opened his eyes.
“I can’t believe that Lars is dead,” he whispered, clearing his throat several times.
“It’s all totally incredible,” she agreed. “But I’ve always believed that you were innocent.”
He forced a smile. Amid all the disappointments, the bitterness, and the anger, a tiny seed of hope was sprouting. Maybe everything would turn out well for Nadia and him. Maybe they’d both have a chance once the shadows of the past were dispelled and the whole truth had come to light.
“I’m getting pissed off at those cops,” he said.
“Oh well,” she said, winking at him, “you’ll be back in a couple of days. And your father has my cell number, just in case. Everyone will understand that you need some distance about now.”
Tobias nodded. He relaxed a little. The ever-present, nagging pain inside him eased a bit.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he told Nadia. “Really. You’re simply wonderful.”
She smiled again, but kept her eyes on the road.
“We’re meant for each other, you and I,” she replied. “I’ve always known that.”
Tobias put her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Ahead of them were a few days of peace and quiet. Nadia had canceled all her appointments. Nobody would bother them, and he didn’t have to be afraid of anyone. The soft music, the pleasant warmth, the soft leather upholstery. He could feel fatigue overwhelming him. With a sigh he closed his eyes and a moment later was deeply and soundly asleep.
* * *
The rusty iron stairs were narrow and led steeply downward. He felt the wall for the light switch. Seconds later the 25-watt bulb lit the room with a dim glow. Bodenstein could feel his heart pounding. It had taken hours to secure the ruins enough to go inside safely. The excavator from the rescue crew had pushed the debris aside, and using all their strength the men had pried open the deformed steel trap door. One of the men in a protective suit had climbed down the stairs and found that everything below was okay. The cellar had survived the fire unscathed.
Bodenstein waited until Pia, Kr?ger, and Henning Kirchhoff had made it down the steep descent and stood beside him in the tiny room. He put his hand on the handle of the heavy iron door. It swung open without a sound. Warm air came toward him, and there was a sweetish smell of wilted flowers.
“Amelie?” called Bodenstein. A flashlight behind him flared up and illuminated a surprisingly large, rectangular room.
“A former bunker,” Kr?ger said. There was a click when he turned on the light switch, and a fluorescent tube on the ceiling sprang to life, humming and flickering. “The electrical lines were laid separately so that in case of damage to the building the cellar would still have power.”
The cellar room was sparsely furnished. A sofa, a shelf with a stereo. The rear part of the room had been divided off with an old-fashioned folding screen. But no sign of Amelie. Were they too late?
“Shoot,” murmured Kr?ger. “It’s plenty hot in here.”
Bodenstein crossed the room. Sweat was running down his face.
“Amelie?”
He moved the screen aside. His gaze fell on the narrow iron bed. He had to swallow. The girl lying there was dead. Her long black hair was spread like a fan over the white pillow. She was wearing a white dress, and her hands were folded over her stomach. The red lipstick seemed grotesque on the dried lips of the mummy. A pair of shoes stood next to the bed. Wilted flowers in a vase on the nightstand, next to it a bottle of cola. It took a couple of seconds before he realized that the girl on the bed could not be Amelie.
“Snow White,” Pia said softly next to him. “There you are at last.”
* * *