The goodwill he had shown during their last encounter had clearly evaporated.
‘I’m not shoving them aside. I’m battling one of the most difficult cases I’ve ever worked on. This isn’t normal day-to-day life.’ She sighed. ‘This is an exceptional circumstance. I thought you understood that.’
When he replied, his voice was less cold, but flat and toneless. ‘This is all so messed up, Bea. I think I could provide Mina and Jakob with a more stable life, one without any exceptional circumstances. The only thing standing in the way of that is your egotism.’
If it hurts to hear it, does that mean it’s true?
‘You’re being unfair.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Fetch the children tomorrow then. I’ll tell my mother. Then I’ll come see you the day after tomorrow and we’ll discuss everything. It’s possible that everything here will have settled down by then anyway.’
He laughed, sounding genuinely amused. ‘As if that were ever true. Who are you trying to kid, Bea? If it’s me, then don’t bother. That train left the station a long time ago.’
Half-past ten. She showered – hot, cold and then hot again – but the raw feeling in the pit of her stomach remained.
No more Internet research for today. She lay down naked on the bed, feeling the cool linen against her back and wishing the children were asleep in the next room.
A blurry shape moved on the ceiling. A spider’s web? She resolved to clear it first thing tomorrow with the broom; it would be good to be able to clear something up in a quick, uncomplicated manner…
Her mobile ringtone catapulted her out of a deep sleep. Her heart was beating fast and frantically against her ribs, something must have happened—
‘Did I wake you, Frau Kommissar?’ His enunciation was slurred.
‘Achim, I swear I’ll report you.’
‘I don’t care. I spoke to my mother, she—’
Beatrice ended the call and put the mobile down next to her on the bed. She looked at her shaking hands in the light of the bedside lamp, which was still shining brightly.
To hell with it. She would call in sick tomorrow and spend the day with the children. Bring the exceptional circumstances to an end. Things couldn’t carry on like this.
Her pulse was beating far too quickly and far too hard. Damned coffee. After a glance at the clock – it was only half-past midnight, thank God – she curled up, pulled the blanket over her shoulders and closed her eyes. Some breathing exercises would steady her pulse; she just had to concentrate on not letting any other thoughts come into her mind, and then she would be able to switch off.
But in the darkness behind her closed eyelids, Melanie Dalamasso appeared, screaming, trying to bang her head against the door frame…
No. Enough.
She couldn’t get Dalamasso out of her mind, though. She was the one they were looking for, the torn woman – so why hadn’t there been anything at the coordinates? Were they just a clue to future events, as they had been once before? Had the Owner planned to dump Dalamasso on the Bundesstrasse?
Beatrice turned over in bed. Shut up, she ordered her inner voice.
Dalamasso’s breakdown had occurred, Liebscher hadn’t gone near a GPS device in a year and a half, Papenberg had given up geocaching for ever. Caesuras, both small and large, within a short space of time.
But not on the same day.
Beatrice gave up. The chance of sleep had retreated from her like the sea ebbing away from the shore. She pulled on a T-shirt, fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, and turned on her laptop.
The green of the geocaching website banner shone out into the darkness of her living room. Without knowing what she was looking for, she opened Nora Papenberg’s profile page. Some users entered their home town under Location. Wishfulthinker28 hadn’t, and nor had Herbert Liebscher.
She would go through the 133 caches in reverse order, reading every entry closely. Maybe she would stumble across something, maybe there would be a meeting with Shinigami or a clue about other cacher friends. Christoph Beil, for example.
A very amusingly disguised container, my compliments to the owner! Nora had written about her penultimate find. I almost gave up, but a flash of inspiration at the last moment pointed me in the right direction. TFTC!
Next entry, 18 June: Simple, but not entirely without its challenges – TFTC!
Another one that same day: Tricky, but we were victorious in the end. Woohoo! TFTC, Wishfulthinker28.
There was no indication of who ‘we’ referred to. Beatrice clicked on the page of the archived cache and found a certain BibiWalz who had also entered the find on 18 June. She was still active, with the number 1877 in brackets next to her nickname and a gallery containing over thirty photos, which Beatrice looked at one by one. BibiWalz was blonde, freckled, chubby and a complete unknown. But she made a note of the name just in case.
Working backwards the next cache was from 15 June. Nora’s entry conveyed sheer excitement. My first night cache! Found together with CreepyCrawly. We set off on our adventure armed with chocolate, crisps and a torch, and arrived at our destination in just over an hour. The path signs reliably showed us the way, and we weren’t afraid for even a second. Compliments to the owner of the listing. TFTC times a thousand!
CreepyCrawly? Beatrice searched for the owner of this strange pseudonym, but his or her profile was just as sparse as those belonging to Nora and Liebscher. Again, she made a note regardless.
The next cache, a week before that: This was a really great cache; I never knew this beautiful church was here, TFTC!
Gradually, the tiredness began to creep back into Beatrice’s body. Ignoring it, she clicked on the next link in the list. Blinded by the ceiling light, she leant back and squinted.
A memory returned to her mind with the force of a hammer. Light. Reflection. Where was it again? She looked for the right page. Yes, there it was; Nora’s enthusiasm about the adventure… there were even photos of the cache, not from her, but taken by other cachers. View the Image Gallery of 25 images.
One click and it all became clear. Beatrice clapped her laptop shut, pulled on her jeans and a jacket over her T-shirt and was already at the door by the time she realised she’d forgotten the most essential tooclass="underline" a torch.
Achim had given Jakob one for his birthday, an LED torch in which the batteries were alleged to last for ever. Where was it again? Hopefully he hadn’t taken it…
No, here it was. Beatrice put it in her bag and grabbed her mobile as she left.
Once she was sitting in the car, she remembered that she’d only be able to reach the emergency team at this hour. Which was possibly for the best – her intuition probably didn’t hold up to closer inspection.
Nonsense. You’re right and you know it. We know everything, and yet we find nothing – the Owner made himself very clear.
But nonetheless, Beatrice wasn’t comfortable about going in without any backup. No one would give her an approving pat on the back for playing a lone hand again; quite the opposite, in fact.
It was 1.45 in the morning. She phoned Florin, preparing herself for drowsy disorientation. She let it ring twice, three times, five times, then hung up before the mailbox kicked in.
Never mind. It was better that he got some sleep. She wouldn’t put herself in any danger; she would just drive out there to see if she was right. It was entirely possible that her hunch was just a figment of her imagination.