Friday, November 7, 2008
Tobias opened his eyes and for a moment felt utterly bewildered. Instead of the whitewashed ceiling of his cell, he saw Pamela Anderson beaming at him from a poster. Only then did he realize that he was no longer in the slammer, but in his old room in his parents’ house. Without moving, he lay there listening to the sounds coming through the window that was open a crack. The church bell tolled six times, announcing the early hour; somewhere a dog barked, another joined in, then both fell silent. The room was unchanged: the desk and the bookcase of cheap veneer, the wardrobe with the crooked door. The posters of the Eintracht Frankfurt soccer team, Pamela Anderson, and the Williams-Renault with Damon Hill, who had won the 1996 Formula 1 world championship. The little stereo that his parents had given him in March 1997. The red couch where …
Tobias sat up and shook his head. In prison he had kept his thoughts under better control. Now the agonizing memories caught up with him: What would have happened if Stefanie hadn’t broken up with him that night? Would she still be alive today? He knew what he had done. They had explained it to him a hundred times, after all—first the police, then his lawyer, the prosecutor, and the judge. The findings had been conclusive. There was circumstantial evidence, there were witnesses, there was the blood in his room, on his clothes, in his car. And yet two full hours had vanished from his memory. To this day it was nothing but a black hole.
He remembered quite clearly the sixth of September 1997. The planned parade at the village fair had been canceled as a sign of respect, because in London late that morning Princess Diana had been laid to rest. Half the world had been glued to their TV sets as the coffin with England’s mortally wounded rose was conveyed through the streets of Britain’s capital. Still, in Altenhain they hadn’t wanted to cancel the whole village fair. It would have been better if everyone had stayed home that evening.
Tobias sighed and turned over on his side. It was so quiet that he could hear his heart beating. For a moment he succumbed to the illusion that he was twenty years old again and nothing had happened. His place at the university was waiting for him in Munich. With his top grades he had been admitted easily. Now painful memories began merging with happier times. The boisterous graduation party was held in the back yard of the home of a friend from his class in Schneidhain. There he had kissed Stefanie for the first time. Laura had almost burst in fury and before his eyes had thrown herself at Lars to make him jealous. But how could he think about Laura when he was holding Stefanie in his arms? She was the first girl he had actually made an effort to pursue; usually girls ran after him in droves, to the great annoyance of his pals. For weeks he had wooed Stefanie until she finally gave in.
The next four weeks had been the happiest in his life—until the disillusionment of September sixth. Stefanie had been chosen Queen of the Fair, a silly title that had been Laura’s for years. But this time Stefanie had won instead. Tobias had been working with Nathalie and a few others at the bar inside the big tent, and he had watched as Stefanie flirted with other guys until she suddenly disappeared. Maybe he had already drunk more than was good for him. Nathalie had noticed how much he was suffering and told him, “Go and look for her.” He had dashed out of the tent, but he didn’t have to search for long. When he found her, jealousy had exploded like a bomb inside him. How could she do this to him? Making a fool of him right in front of everyone? All because of a stupid leading role in an even stupider play?
At this point Tobias threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. He had to do something—work or find some other way to distract his mind from these tormenting memories.
* * *
Amelie was walking with her head down through the fine drizzle. As she did every morning, she had turned down her stepmother’s offer to drive her to the bus stop, but now she had to hurry if she didn’t want to miss the school bus. November was showing its most unpleasant side, with fog and rain, but Amelie didn’t really mind the dismal dreariness of the month. She liked her solitary walk through the sleeping village. In the earbuds of her iPod the music of the Schattenkinder roared loud enough to shred her eardrums; they were one of her favorite Dark Wave groups. She had lain awake half the night thinking about Tobias Sartorius and the murdered girls. At the time Laura Wagner and Stefanie Schneeberger had been seventeen years old, the same age she was now. And she lived in the same house where one of the victims purportedly had lived. She absolutely had to find out more about the girl that Thies had called Snow White. What had happened in Altenhain back then?
A car came to a stop next to Amelie. Probably her stepmother, who could practically drive her mad with her enervating kindness. But then Amelie recognized Claudius Terlinden, her father’s boss. He had rolled down the window on the passenger side and was motioning for her to come closer. She turned off the music.
“Would you like a ride?” he asked. “You’re getting soaked.”
The rain really didn’t bother Amelie, but she had no objection to riding with Terlinden. She liked the big black Mercedes with the light-colored leather seats; it smelled brand new, and she was fascinated by the technological advancements that Claudius Terlinden was only too happy to demonstrate for her. She inexplicably liked her neighbor, although with his expensive suits, big cars, and ostentatious villa he was actually the prototype of the decadent moneybags that she and her pals back home in Berlin had hated with all their hearts. But there was something else. Lately Amelie had been asking herself whether she was entirely normal, because every time any male was somewhat friendly, her thoughts would immediately turn to sex. How would Mr. Terlinden react, she wondered, if she put her hand on his thigh and made him an unambiguous offer? Just thinking about it made a hysterical giggle rise inside her and she had to make an effort to subdue it.
“Well, come on then!” he called, motioning her to get in. “Climb in.”
Amelie stuffed her earbuds in her jacket pocket, opened the door, and dropped into the passenger seat. The heavy door of the luxury car closed with a satisfying thunk. Terlinden headed off down Waldstrasse and smiled at Amelie.
“What’s eating you?” he asked. “You look like you’re brooding about something.”
Amelie hesitated a moment, then said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Shoot.”
“Those two girls who disappeared. Did you know them?”
Terlinden cast a quick glance at her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m just curious. There’s been so much talk since that man came back. I think it’s kind of exciting.”
“Hmm. It was a sad story back then. And it still is,” he said. “Naturally I knew both of the girls. Stefanie was our neighbors’ daughter. And I had known Laura since she was a kid. It’s just horrible for the parents that the girls were never found.”
“Hmm,” Amelie said pensively. “Did they have nicknames?”
“Who do you mean?” Terlinden seemed astonished by this question.
“Stefanie and Laura.”
“I don’t know. Why … oh yeah, Stefanie did. The other kids called her Snow White.”
“Why is that?”
“Maybe because of her last name. Schneeberger.” Terlinden frowned and slowed down. The school bus was already at the bus stop with its blinkers on, waiting for the few pupils who were going to K?nigstein.
“No, that’s not right,” Terlinden said, remembering now. “I think it had something to do with a play that was going to be put on at the school. Stefanie had been given the leading role. She was supposed to play Snow White.”
“Supposed to?” Amelie asked. “Didn’t she play the part?”
“No. Before that she … um … she disappeared.”
* * *