Bad Wolf (40 page)

Meike did as she was told. She felt miserable. All day, the policewoman’s words had been tormenting her. What if Leonie Verges’s death was her fault because she hadn’t told the police about that stupid note?

There was no excuse or justification for what she’d done, even though she’d talked herself into keeping the note secret in order not to ruin Hanna’s research. In reality, she didn’t give a damn.

Hanna stretched out her hand and heaved a sigh when Meike hesitantly took it.

“What’s happened?” Hanna asked softly.

Meike was struggling with what to say. This morning, she hadn’t said a word about Leonie Verges’s death, and she didn’t want to mention it now, either. Everything around her seemed to be breaking apart and dissolving. A person she had known and spoken to was now dead. She had been tortured to death while Meike thought only of herself, refusing to acknowledge any possible consequences for others. All her life, she’d felt like a victim, unfairly treated, unloved. She’d tried to gain the affection of others by sheer obstinacy; she had eaten until she was obese and then starved herself until she was anorexic; she had been nasty, unfair, and hurtful, all in a desperate attempt to win love and attention. She had often accused her mother of being egotistical, while she was actually the selfish one. She had only ever demanded but given nothing in return. She had not been a very lovable girl, and it was no surprise that she’d never had a best friend or any friend at all. Someone who didn’t like herself couldn’t expect to be liked by others. The only person in the world who had accepted Meike as she was, was her mother, of all people. Yet she had pictured Hanna as an enemy because she was jealous of her. Hanna represented everything she so urgently wanted to be but would never achieve: self-confident, beautiful, surrounded by men.

“I know it’s not easy for you, either,” Hanna murmured, squeezing Meike’s hand lightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tears came to Meike’s eyes. More than anything, she would have liked to put her head in Hanna’s lap and sob, because she was so ashamed of her mean and spiteful behavior. She thought about all the atrocious things she’d said and done to her mother and wished she had the guts to feel remorse and respond honestly.

I scratched your car and slashed your tires, Mama, she thought. I snooped around in your computer and didn’t give the note that Kilian Rothemund wrote to you to the police, simply because I wanted to make myself seem interesting to Wolfgang. Maybe that’s why Leonie Verges had to die. I’m jealous and evil and disgusting, and I don’t deserve your patience and indulgence.

She thought all of these things but didn’t say a word.

“Could you get me a new iPhone? I still have a twin card in my desk at the office,” Hanna whispered. “Maybe you can sync it. My access code for MobileMe is written on a note under my desk blotter.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll do it tomorrow morning,” Meike managed to reply.

“Thanks.” Hanna closed her eyes.

Meike sat there for a long time, staring at her sleeping mother. Not until she’d left the hospital and was sitting in her car did it occur to Meike that she hadn’t even asked Hanna how she was feeling.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

At exactly five o’clock in the morning, a helicopter appeared over the treetops. Simultaneously, there was movement at the edge of the forest around Bernd Prinzler’s property. Black-clad figures wearing masks broke through the underbrush and surrounded the fenced area. The rising sun was still hidden behind misty swaths of rain-damp air. Bodenstein, Pia, Cem Altunay, and Kathrin Fachinger followed the action from the woods, watching as ten armed commandos from the Special Assignment Unit rappelled from the helicopter hovering a few yards above the meadow near the residence. Bolt cutters sliced through the metal struts of the big gate like butter. Five of the high-powered vehicles with mirrored windows sped across the gravel forest road and turned at high speed into the enclosure. Barely three minutes after the helo’s arrival, the fortress had been stormed.

“Not bad,” Cem remarked after checking his watch.

“That’s what I call shooting cannons at sparrows,” Bodenstein grumbled. His stony expression did not reveal much, but Pia knew that he was angry about Nicola Engel’s criticism. On the way here from Hofheim, no one had said a word after Bodenstein and Commissioner Engel had gotten into a brief but intense verbal exchange as they passed the Offenbacher Kreuz. Last night, they had used satellite imagery to analyze the situation at the site behind the section of woods between Langensebold and Hüttengesäss and planned the action with an SAU squad and a hundred riot police. Bodenstein had called the action altogether excessive and a total waste of taxpayer funds. Nicola Engel had reproached him sharply, chiding him for not making any progress in the past three weeks. She’d had to justify this failure to the Interior Ministry.

Pia and Cem had merely exchanged glances and very wisely said nothing, because one false word in a situation of such high-explosive tension could have the effect of a fire accelerant.

Startled by the sudden unrest and the noise, a herd of deer fled with graceful bounds through the woods. In the surrounding trees, the first birds were beginning their morning concert, utterly unimpressed by what was going on beneath them.

“Why are so you pissed off about what Engel said?” Pia asked her boss. “If they screw up this raid, it’s not our problem.”

“That’s not what I’m mad about,” replied Bodenstein. “Frankfurt and the State Criminal Police know very well where Prinzler lives. They’ve had him in their sights for a long time, but until yesterday they had no verifiable reason to search his house.”

“What? They knew about this place?” Pia asked incredulously. “Why weren’t we told about that? When we visited Prinzler’s mother, our colleagues in Frankfurt must have known that we were looking for him.”

“Because in their eyes, we’re just a couple of dumb provincial cops,” said Bodenstein, rubbing his unshaven chin. “But this time, I’m not going to let it drop. If it turns out that Prinzler killed Leonie Verges and we could have prevented it if communication with the Frankfurters hadn’t been so bad, heads will roll.”

The police radio Pia was holding hissed and crackled.

“We’re in,” she heard a distorted voice say. “One man, one woman, two kids. No resistance.”

“Let’s go,” said Bodenstein.

They headed down the hill, trudging through dry leaves, and then climbed over a ditch to enter the property through the gate the SAU had cut open in their assault. On the left side was a big barn with a barbecue area in front of it. Glancing behind a chain-link fence, they could see a vast number of car and motorcycle parts, sorted and piled up in orderly fashion. The house was farther back, surrounded by an idyllic, expansive yard with ancient trees and blooming bushes. There was a pool and a playground for the children. A regular paradise.

A man was lying on his stomach on the wet lawn not far from the house. He was barefoot, wearing only a T-shirt and shorts, and his hands were bound behind his back with plastic cuffs. Two officers helped him to his feet. In the front door, which had been smashed in, stood a dark-haired woman, her arms around a boy of about twelve, who was sobbing hysterically. A second boy, somewhat older and almost as tall as his mother, refused to cry, but his fright at the dawn attack was clearly etched on his face.

Dr. Nicola Engel, wearing a gray pantsuit, over which she had put on a bulletproof vest, stood in front of the bearded giant like David facing Goliath. She looked composed and self-confident, as usual.

“Mr. Prinzler, you are under provisional arrest,” she said. “I assume that you know your rights.”

“You are such a bunch of idiots,” said Bernd Prinzler, outraged. His voice was deep and rough, definitely not the one on Leonie Verges’s answering machine. “Why did you have to terrify my family? There’s a doorbell at the gate.”

“Precisely,” Bodenstein muttered.

“Take him away,” said Commissioner Engel.

“May I put on some clothes first?” Prinzler asked.

“No,” said Nicola Engel, her voice icy.

Pia could see that the man would have liked to make a rude reply, but he knew all about being arrested. Any insult would not improve his situation. So he contented himself with spitting in the grass right next to Nicola Engel’s Louboutins. Then with head held high, he walked between the two SAU men, who looked like dwarfs next to him, and got into one of the black vans.

“Mr. Bodenstein, Ms. Kirchhoff, you may now speak to his wife,” said Nicola Engel.

“I want to talk to Mr. Prinzler, not to his wife,” countered Bodenstein, which earned him a dirty look, which he chose to ignore. A commotion and babble of voices in the house drowned out her reply. In a room in the basement of the house, the police had found two young women.

“Well, well,” said Dr. Nicola Engel with a triumphant note in her voice. “I knew it.”

*   *   *

Last night after leaving the hospital, Meike had sent him a text message. She’d been waiting in vain for a reply ever since. She hadn’t heard from Wolfgang since Sunday, except for the conversation on Monday morning in his office, but at that time there had been no chance to exchange a personal word with him. She felt that she’d been left in the lurch. Hadn’t he promised to take care of her? To stand by her? Why wasn’t he getting in touch with her? Had she done something wrong, something to offend him? Several times that night, Meike had awakened and checked her smartphone, but he’d sent neither a text nor an e-mail. Her disappointment grew from one minute to the next. If there was one person in her life she could always depend on, it was Wolfgang. Her disappointment changed to anger, then to worry. What if something had happened to him, too?

By nine o’clock, she could no longer stand it, so she called him on his cell. He picked up on the second ring. Meike, who hadn’t expected him to answer, didn’t know what to say.

So she said, “Hi, Wolfgang.”

“Hello, Meike. I didn’t see your text until this morning, and I’d turned off the ringer on my phone,” he said. She had the feeling he wasn’t telling her the truth.

“No big deal,” she lied. “I just wanted to tell you that Mama is doing a little better. I visited her twice yesterday.”

“That’s good. She needs you right now.”

“Unfortunately, she still can’t remember anything. The doctors say it may take a while until her memory of the attack returns. Sometimes it never does.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Wolfgang cleared his throat. “Meike, I’m afraid I have to go to an important meeting now. I’ll call you—”

“Leonie Verges is dead,” Meike said, interrupting him.

“Who is dead?”

“Mama’s psych lady in Liederbach, where we were on Saturday.”

“Good Lord, that’s horrible,” Wolfgang said, sounding upset. “How do you know this?”

“Because I happened to drop by there. I wanted to ask her about something, on account of Mama. The front door was open and … and I saw her. It was … awful. I just can’t get that sight out of my mind.” Meike made her voice sound shaky, like a scared little girl’s. This trick had always worked on Wolfgang. Maybe now he’d feel sorry for her and invite her to stay at his house again. “Somebody tied her to a chair and taped her mouth shut. The police said she probably died of thirst. I gave them Mama’s computer from her office. Do you think that was the right thing to do?”

It took a moment for him to answer. Wolfgang was a cautious man and always took time to deliberate before he said anything. No doubt he needed a moment to process this information. Meike heard a buzz of voices in the background, footsteps; then a door closed and it was quiet.

“Of course that was the right thing to do,” Wolfgang said at last. “Meike, you should keep out of all this and let the police do their job. What you’re doing is dangerous. Can’t you go stay with your father for a few days?”

Meike couldn’t believe her ears. What kind of shitty suggestion was that?

She mustered her courage.

“I … I thought maybe I could stay with you for a couple of days. You did offer, after all,” she said in her little-girl voice. “I can’t go off to Stuttgart and leave Mama all alone.”

Again, it seemed to take endless seconds before Wolfgang replied. She had caught him off guard with her request to stay with him; he hadn’t actually offered any such invitation. Secretly, she hoped for comforting words and a spontaneous “But of course,” yet the longer he made her wait for an answer, the more she knew that he was trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible,” he said at last.

She could hear the discomfort in his voice and knew what a conflict of conscience she had caused him. That gave her a malicious satisfaction.

“We have a house full of guests until the weekend.”

“All right, then, I guess not,” she replied lightly, although she would have liked to howl in fury at his rejection. “Did you have time to think over the internship idea? I’m out of a job now.”

Another man might have told her to stop bugging him, but Wolfgang’s innate courtesy prevented him from saying anything like that.

“Let’s talk about that on the phone later,” he replied, hedging. “Right now, I really have to get to that meeting. They’re all waiting for me. Keep your chin up. And take care of yourself.”

Meike flung her cell onto the sofa and burst into tears of disappointment. Nothing was going the way she’d hoped. Damn it! Nobody was interested in her. In the past, she would have gone to see her father and demanded his sympathy, but now that he had a new girlfriend, his interest in his daughter had waned. The last time Meike had visited Stuttgart, that bitch had had the nerve to tell her that she should start behaving like an adult instead of like a pubescent fifteen-year-old. Since then, Meike hadn’t bothered to visit.

She dropped onto the sofa and thought about what to do, whom she could call. But she didn’t have a clue.

*   *   *

The two terrified young women they had found in the basement of Bernd Prinzler’s house were anything but enthusiastic about their “liberation.” The fact that they were Russians and staying in a less than luxurious room was enough proof to the squad leader that they were prostitutes who were being held against their will. Victims of human trafficking. In the euphoria over this discovery, the police hadn’t allowed the women to bring along any personal items. Later at the Frankfurt police headquarters, it turned out that Natasha and Ludmilla Valenkova were in no way streetwalkers. Natasha was working as an au pair for the Prinzlers. She possessed a passport and a valid residence visa. Ludmilla, her older sister, had previously worked for the family as an au pair, but was studying financial IT in Frankfurt. She, too, was living in Germany legally, on a student visa.