* * *
So now I’m sitting in our old Volvo, the back seat still empty. It’s another seven and a half miles to Regensburg. My mobile buzzes inside my jacket pocket. I leave it, not because you shouldn’t use a mobile phone while driving, but because it strikes me that it might be Dr. Hamstedt calling to say she’s changed her mind, I can’t pick Hannah up. Or Karin. Karin might say the same thing, but for other reasons. I turn up the radio. The weather report is promising an absolutely gorgeous late summer’s day. I’m not going to let anyone ruin that for me.
It’s almost half past eleven when I turn into one of the visitors’ parking places behind the large building. I’m really early—we’d agreed twelve o’clock. I turn off the engine and take the mobile from my pocket. I’ve missed four calls. All from Karin. She’s sent me a text message too, but I’m careful not to open it. There is no way back. This is the most normal thing in the world. Hannah belongs to us. I put the mobile back into my pocket and get out.
The district clinic consists of several buildings dotted around the campus like a small village. Every day I walk past the unmissable sign pointing the way to the “Clinic for Pediatric and Adolescent Psychiatry, Psychosomatic Medicine and Psychotherapy” and look at the ground. “Psychiatry” is an ugly word. For Hannah it’s a “children’s clinic,” for me a “trauma center.”
I enter the building, which reminds me of a huge, multi-storied version of Lena’s old primary school: lots of glass and colorful steel struts. The woman on reception knows me by now and raises her hand.
“Good morning, Herr Beck!”
“Hello, Frau Sommer. I’m quite early.”
“That doesn’t matter. Please go up. They’re already waiting for you anyway.”
* * *
I realize at once that it’s Frank Giesner, even though he’s got his back to me as I walk along the second-floor corridor toward Dr. Hamstedt’s office. It seems as if he only has that one suit, mouse-gray; it’s too broad at the shoulders and makes his back look bigger than it really is. With him is another policeman, in uniform, and Dr. Hamstedt. They talk in hushed tones until Dr. Hamstedt notices me and pauses, and a second later all three of them have turned in my direction.
“Ah, Herr Beck, it’s good you’re here,” Giesner says.
I begin to shuffle. It briefly crosses my mind that for some reason Dr. Hamstedt has called for police support to stop me from taking Hannah away. I square my shoulders and jut out my chin. Hannah is my granddaughter, I’m her abuelo and I’m taking her home.
“Dr. Hamstedt, Herr Giesner,” I say curtly. I give the uniformed policeman a nod.
“Herr Beck,” Dr. Hamstedt says with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Is there something wrong with Hannah? Where is she?”
“Don’t worry, Herr Beck. She’s waiting in my office with a nurse.”
“Is there a problem?”
Giesner puts a hand on my shoulder and sighs. “There’s been a new development,” he says. “Dr. Hamstedt called me earlier to tell me about a therapy session she’d had with Hannah. Apparently, Herr Beck, there’s a third child.”
“Sara,” Dr. Hamstedt adds.
“Sara,” I repeat inanely.
Dr. Hamstedt nods.
“We need you now, Herr Beck. Help us to talk to Hannah.”
HANNAH
Mama’s screaming made me worried. Worry isn’t really fear, but it’s not good either. I leaped up from the edge of the bed and squeezed myself up to Papa, who was standing beside the bed. It was lucky he was there because he could make the cabin warm and cook for us. Now he held me very tight. His large, warm hand was over my right ear and I could hear the sea. I’d pressed my left ear against his chest. On one side the sea was roaring, on the other his tummy was gurgling.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, stroking my hair. “The pain is a good thing. It means the baby’s on its way.”
I turned to look at Mama who was writhing on the bed. Her face looked really ugly. The sheet made waves beneath her convulsions. Her chunky silver bracelet clattered against the bedpost and her legs were tangled up in the duvet.
“It’s fine, Hannah, it’s all fine,” she blurted out between two screams.
“Shall we help Mama by holding her hand?” Papa said.
I wasn’t sure at first, but then I nodded. Everything was fine. The pain was good. The baby was on its way.
But that wasn’t the case. They were wrong. The baby wouldn’t come.
Mama had been screaming since yesterday.
I didn’t want to hold her hand anymore, none of us did. We were tired, nobody could sleep with all that screaming and we were all nervous. Even Fräulein Tinky. She’d knocked over my cup that morning. My hot chocolate had spilled all over the table and floor. She knew she wasn’t allowed on the table. Papa came. He’d probably heard me giving Fräulein Tinky a telling-off. He agreed with me that cats weren’t allowed on the table. Fräulein Tinky tried to hide under the sofa, but he found her, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and took her outside, outside the front door. I thought that was okay at first; after all, she had to learn. But no sooner had Papa locked the door again than I started getting scared. It was dangerous outside. What if Fräulein Tinky got lost and couldn’t find her way home? If she got frightened? If she thought we didn’t love her anymore? Now Mama’s screams were really horrible. Papa was going to check on her, then get a bucket and a cloth so I could clean up the mess Fräulein Tinky had made.
“Papa?” I managed to say just before he left the room.
He turned around.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Hannah?” He smiled, went on one knee and held his hand out to me. Our eyes were at the same level. Papa always says that if you can’t look someone in the eye they’ve got something to hide.
“We have to let Fräulein Tinky back in. It’s far too cold for her outside.”
“She needs to be taught a lesson, Hannah,” Papa said, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “Now I’ve got to check on Mama, darling. She needs me.”
I nodded.
I heard Mama screaming. And Fräulein Tinky outside, scratching the door and meowing woefully …
* * *
“Hannah?” It’s Grandad. He must have realized I was lost in thought.
In turn I see him, Frau Hamstedt and the policeman in the gray suit. They’re sitting with me in Frau Hamstedt’s office, waiting for me to tell them something about Sara. But I don’t want to talk about Sara. I told Frau Hamstedt about her this morning. Surely that’s enough. I told her that Sara was our sister and we didn’t keep her for long. Frau Hamstedt wanted to know more. “What do you mean by that, Hannah?” “What does that mean?” “Would you like to do a drawing?”
I said “no” in my lion voice and told her I wanted to go back to my room. I wanted to have a rest because you always have to have enough rest before you do something special. And today I was going to do something special.
My grandad’s going to take me home. I’m his favorite grandchild, I’ve known that for a while. He doesn’t go to appointments with Jonathan, but that’s not Grandad’s fault. Jonathan doesn’t want to leave the clinic. That’s why he hasn’t been to see the dentist and hasn’t got a star sticker either.
“Hannah?” Grandad says. “You can tell them. I’m here too, there’s no need to worry.”
I’m not worried, I just don’t want to talk about Sara anymore. The world doesn’t just revolve around her. There are far more important things.
“Has anyone found Fräulein Tinky yet?” I ask. “I bet she’s really missing me.”
MATTHIAS
Giesner wants us to go on a little stroll around the grounds of the clinic. I’d have rather left with Hannah right after the conversation in Dr. Hamstedt’s office. We could have been halfway down the motorway by now. But, with a doubtful glance at Hannah, Giesner said, “Dr. Hamstedt has told me about your plans.” At least he had the decency not to d
iscuss these in front of the girl. He nodded toward the door.
“Let’s go and stretch our legs, Herr Beck.”
Hannah stayed with Dr. Hamstedt. I promised I wouldn’t be long and thought I could see a fleeting smile dart across her lips. Her smile is really enchanting.
“I can understand that you want to take the girl back with you,” Giesner says the moment we step out of the large glass door and on to the gravel path that runs around the clinic.
“Dr. Hamstedt is in favor of the idea,” I say cautiously. If Hannah and I were to set off in the next half an hour we’d be able to stop once or twice on the way. Otherwise it’ll be too late; Karin was right about that. She said it would be better if Hannah got to know her new home in daylight. Although Karin’s reasoning was that if Hannah didn’t feel comfortable at our house I’d be able to drive her back to the clinic in time for dinner. I said, “That’s what we’ll do, darling,” and smiled.
“Yes, I know,” Giesner says, putting a cigarette between his lips. I didn’t know he smoked. “Want one?”
I tap the left-hand side of my chest and say, “My doctor would tear strips off me. It was a close-run thing on two occasions.” I’ve no idea why I’m telling him about my dicky heart. Maybe it’s to make him feel sympathy—just let the sick old man have his granddaughter, he’s not got long to go. And indeed, there is a hint of concern on Giesner’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, blowing the smoke from his first drag over his shoulder, away from the sick old man. “Would you rather I…?”
“No, no, it doesn’t bother me. You wanted a word.”
“Yes. As I say, I can understand you want to take Hannah back with you. The question is—and I’ve put this to Dr. Hamstedt too—is there any way we can use the situation for our investigation? Dr. Hamstedt thinks there might be a chance.”
“I don’t understand.”
Giesner points to a bench a few yards away on the edge of the gravel path.
“Let’s sit down over there for a moment.”
We wander over in silence, our shoes crunching on the gravel.
“Herr Beck,” Giesner begins again when we’re sitting, “Hannah is an important, but also very tricky, witness. I don’t understand much about psychology, but it makes sense to me when Dr. Hamstedt warns us against putting her under pressure. On the other hand, she hasn’t been particularly helpful for our investigation so far.”
“Aren’t children always tricky witnesses?”
“Hmm, you might be right.” Giesner takes a puff on his cigarette. “When we question children we usually come up against two types of reaction. It takes some of them a long time to start talking because they’re intimidated, and then they only say the bare minimum. By contrast, others are talkative from the start and just keep babbling away as if they’d been waiting for their cue. Along with a description of the perpetrator, you get details of what they had for lunch and what Ernie said in the last episode of Sesame Street.” He smirks, I don’t. When he notices the lack of any change in my expression, he clears his throat. “Well, what I’m trying to say is that these children, some of them quite a bit younger than Hannah, at least understand why we need their assistance and make every effort to help solve the case.”
“To be perfectly honest, I still have no idea what you’re getting at.”
Giesner bends down to the side of the bench to stub out his cigarette.
“Hannah doesn’t obviously belong in either of these two categories, which makes the whole thing even more complicated.” When he sits up again I notice a strange expression on his face. “She’s got a really inquiring mind, don’t you think?” he says with a frown and searching, narrowed eyes. “For example, she was able to tell me how the blue lights on a police car work. But when I ask her for her father’s name, I only ever get ‘Papa’ as an answer, or nothing. And I wonder why. This is a girl who seeks answers to everything. Has it never surprised you that Frau Grass suddenly appeared in the cabin as a replacement for Lena? Did she accept her mother’s disappearance just like that?”
“Please,” I say, waving my hand in the air in annoyance. “You’re not seriously saying that Hannah might be deliberately holding back information?” I laugh. “It’s called trauma, Herr Giesner. And who knows what that monster might have done to her if she’d dared ask the wrong questions?”
Giesner looks at the ground and starts scraping at the gravel with the tip of his shoe.
“But now the monster is dead,” he says after a while, looking me straight in the eye. “I’ve questioned Hannah nine times over the past fortnight, Herr Beck. Nine times.” He shrugs. “At least I now know how tall the Eiffel Tower is, which she claims to have visited with her mother. Three hundred and twenty meters.”
“Three hundred and twenty-four,” I correct him and begin shifting around uneasily on the bench. The hard wood now feels very uncomfortable. “With all due respect, Herr Giesner, I don’t think that either you or I are in a position to appreciate just what happens to the human psyche in such extreme situations. But at least you have the cabin, a dead body and the DNA kit. So why don’t you solve the case without Hannah’s help? And find my daughter’s body.”
“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do, Herr Beck! And I believe that Hannah could be a real help in this. It’s just that she seems to be holding something back from us. What could that be, Herr Beck?”
“Why don’t you just leave my granddaughter in peace and turn your attention to Frau Grass instead? You want me to question Hannah, don’t you? That’s what you meant at the beginning when you said: is there any way we can use the situation for our investigation? You say you don’t want to put her under pressure. No, because you want to leave that job to me, don’t you? You want me to solve your case, that’s the long and the short of it!”
“For heaven’s sake, Herr Beck, nobody has said that. All I thought was that you’ve developed a rapport with Hannah, and so there’s every chance she might open up to you and tell you things which might be helpful for the future course of our investigation.”
“Investigation,” I mutter.
“I’m simply asking for your help. You want to find your daughter and so do we.”
“I’ll give you some help: Frau Grass is a liar. You’re very welcome.”
“Do you have any concrete proof? What makes you think that? Has Hannah by any chance said anything—”
“What makes me think that? Common sense, Herr Giesner! You don’t just get abducted and live for months with a family, playing mother and wife…” Giesner opens his mouth to interrupt, but I hold up my hands defensively. “Yes, yes, I know, she was forced. But did she never try to find out what was really going on there? What happened to the woman who must have been there before her? Did she never try talking to the man who supposedly abducted her? Surely you can’t believe all that, Herr Giesner!”
“Herr Beck, Frau Grass is a victim, just like your daughter.”
“But unlike my daughter she made it out of the cabin alive.”
“I understand your anger. But don’t take it out on Frau Grass. That’s unfair, don’t you think so?”
I sigh.
“Besides, Herr Beck, you said yourself that neither of us is in a position to appreciate just what happens to the human psyche in such extreme situations.”
My heartbeat, which has substantially accelerated over the past few minutes, prompts a well-known tugging in my chest. Then there’s the hard wood under my buttocks. I turn my head away from Giesner and look over the back of the bench to the large building where Hannah is waiting for me. I try to think of her, of the fact that the two of us will soon walk out of that building together and drive away, away from here, back home. But my thoughts keep drifting to Jasmin Grass. That woman. How I’d like to have spoken to her and asked the probing questions myself. Grabbed her by the collar if necessary and shaken the answers out of her. Where the hell is my daughter? What do you know? How did you manage to get back home, but not
my daughter? But not a chance. After I wasn’t able to identify her as Lena on the night of the accident, they wouldn’t allow me to talk to her. For your own good, as Gerd put it. They stationed guards outside her room.
“It’s just a hunch, Herr Giesner,” I say as calmly as possible to slow my heartbeat down to a healthier rhythm. “There’s something about that woman that isn’t right. She’s not telling you everything she knows.”
Giesner lets out an absentminded “Hmm” and then pulls a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He straightens it out and passes it to me.
“Do you recognize this man?”
I take my reading glasses out of my coat.
“No,” I say eventually. “Who is it?”
“This is a facial reconstruction by the forensic department of the male whose body was found in the cabin.”
“The man who abducted my daughter?”
“That’s what we’re assuming, yes.”
Normal, that’s my first thought. He looks completely normal. That’s what shocks me most of all. If I keep focusing on his face, maybe I’ll find some abnormality that might be weirdly comforting. Lena would have fallen victim to a monster, some creature whose gruesomeness would have been apparent miles away. Against something like that she wouldn’t have stood a chance. But the picture in my hand doesn’t depict a that, it depicts a someone, a human being. A man who could have lived in our neighborhood. Could have been one of my clients. Someone who could have been a lawyer or a car mechanic. A man who could have appeared at our front door to pick Lena up for a date and I would have wished them a nice evening. Maybe I might have even liked him on first impression. More than Mark Sutthoff, in whose smile I thought at first glance I could detect a slyness. For a moment I don’t know whether to be disappointed that the reconstruction doesn’t show Mark’s face or relieved, because yesterday evening when he agreed with me about Hannah, I thought for the first time that I might have been wrong about him. Perhaps I’d been unfair on Mark after all.
Dear Child Page 17
