If it weren’t so sad, I would have laughed. My cell was of my own choosing. I had imprisoned myself in the very place where I couldn’t draw attention to myself. I really am a very cooperative victim.
“But I’m staying here,” he adds. “I’m going to lie down here right by the door; I won’t leave you by yourself. If you need anything…”
I don’t answer him. It was obvious, after all, that he would block any escape route available to me.
I take a few clean tea towels from the pile I keep here on the shelves, arrange them under my head and close my eyes. The door is locked from the inside, so Erik can’t get in here. I could even risk falling asleep, but I can’t get my thoughts to settle. I run through the events of this awful evening in my mind again and again, moment by moment. I can’t push them away …
And then, after at least two hours must have passed, everything falls into place all at once, forming a picture as clear as glass and logical down to the very last detail.
What Erik wants, above everything, is for me to believe him. For me to think that something is wrong with me. That’s why he had a friend of his turn up here, acting like Erik’s presence in the house was entirely natural. I could probably bet on a few more encounters like these taking place over the next few days.
And then the doctor’s visit. The next act, surely, in which I find out from an experienced professional that I have a screw loose. I’d bet anything on it.
At least there’s one thing I don’t need to waste any more time tearing my hair out over: the motive of my caring fiancé there on the other side of the door. Once someone knows my name, it doesn’t take a genius to find out who I am. And, most important, who my father is. Then it’s highly possible that someone could come up with the creative idea of wanting to convince me I’m engaged to them. Maybe one day I’d even believe it, and boom—they would have just married into the third-richest family in Australia.
Well. Unfortunately Erik has picked the wrong victim.
I curl up into a ball, try to find a tolerable sleeping position, and close my eyes. At least I don’t have to worry about him cutting my throat in my sleep. After all, a billionaire’s daughter isn’t much use to a con artist once she’s dead.
* * *
“Jo?” A knock on the door. “It’s almost eight, we’ve got an appointment with Dr. Dussmann in an hour. I just called him, he’s fitting us in as an emergency.”
Shelves, cans, cleaning products. For the duration of a few heartbeats I’m unable to remember where I am, but then the events of the previous day come flooding back with full force.
“Are you awake, Jo?”
“Yes.” My whole body is in pain from lying on the hard floor, I can hardly get up.
“I brought you some clothes. If you unlock the door, I’ll pass them in to you.”
“I’d like to take a shower.” It’s not a pretense, but the absolute truth. After the night I’ve just had, I really need some soap and hot water.
Erik doesn’t respond. I unlock the door into his silence.
He is standing directly opposite me, with my black jeans, a green shirt, and clean underwear in his hands. He looks tired, there’s no question about that, but his eyes are alert. As soon as I make any quick movement, he’ll grab me just as quickly as he did yesterday.
“I won’t run away,” I say. “I’ll go with you to see this doctor … What was his name again?”
“Dussmann.” Erik doesn’t trust the sudden peace, I can see that from his expression.
“Dussmann, exactly. But I want to go to the toilet and take a shower. And I want to do both alone; hopefully you can understand that. I promise I won’t make a run for it or call for help.”
It’s not difficult to read the thoughts that are going through Erik’s mind. He is weighing whether he can take the risk. I had the whole night to figure out a plan, and my peaceable behavior could very well be part of that.
So I force a smile. “I think it’s a good idea for me to see the doctor. I feel kind of … strange somehow. And besides—” I act like I’m not quite sure if I should really trust him with the words I’m about to say. “And besides, during the night I had a kind of memory of you. It was very brief and fuzzy. But if it wasn’t just my imagination,” I say, furrowing my brow thoughtfully, “then maybe there is something wrong with me. And if that’s the case, I want to know about it.”
Bingo. All of a sudden Erik no longer looks tired in the least.
“Really, Jo? You remembered me? That’s wonderful.” He takes a step toward me, and I have to fight my instinct to back away. “Listen, here’s what we’ll do. You go take a shower, but I’ll disable the lock and wait outside. Please don’t try to trick me, because then I’d have to come in. For your own sake. You understand that, right?”
I nod, smile, say yes to everything. He gives me twenty minutes, and we both keep to what we promised. Only once we’re at the front door and he’s turning the key in the lock with his right hand does he reach out with his left to grip my arm.
“That’s not necessary.” My voice sounds almost tender. “It really isn’t, Erik. But I’d like to take my phone with me. If there’s really something wrong, I want to be able to call my family.”
He looks at me, searchingly. He raises his hand as though he wants to stroke my face, but stops midmovement and grasps my arm again. “As soon as we know what’s wrong with you, you’ll get your phone and anything else you want. I promise.”
In other words, after Dr. Dussmann has played his intended role. This is just what I’d expected. “You’re probably right,” I say. “OK.”
He leads me outside, as if he’s afraid I could fall. There’s a silver Audi parked in the driveway next to my used VW Golf, one of those limousine-like cars that manager types drive. Shiny and immaculate, without even the hint of a mud stain on the fenders.
I can’t help but grin. Anyone who didn’t know better would guess that Erik was the more affluent of the two of us.
He opens the passenger door for me and waits until I’ve put on my seat belt before closing it again. Five seconds later, he sits down next to me and starts the engine.
“We’ll sort this out,” he says. “You’ll see.”
6
I steer the car out of the driveway and turn right. For a brief moment, I look over at Joanna, who’s giving me a slightly tense smile. Her hands are on her chest, holding the safety belt like she was afraid it might squeeze the air from her lungs.
Just before we turn into the next street, I glance into the rearview mirror and see a man standing in the entrance to our driveway. He’s looking in our direction. Is he watching us? Nonsense. I’d better make sure I don’t start getting paranoid too.
Houses pass by us on both sides, with cars parked in front. Here and there, different campaign posters for the upcoming elections. Garbage bins, already set out on the curb by overzealous neighbors even though collection day isn’t until tomorrow. Life as always in our street. Normal.
Deceptive.
My thoughts wander. I called into work and took a day off. If there aren’t any IT projects in the critical phase it’s usually not a problem.
Thank goodness Bernhard is in London. I hope he doesn’t call anyone at work and let slip about what he saw at our place last night.
If he does, well, there’s nothing I can do about it. Joanna said that she remembered me, and at first I was so relieved that I believed her without a moment’s hesitation. I willingly clung to her words, because I simply didn’t want to accept that Joanna, my Joanna, might suddenly have developed a psychological problem.
Now, though, I’m not so sure anymore. She had a good few hours in the storeroom to think everything through. Maybe she invented having remembered something about me just to placate me.
But at least she’s willing to go see Dr. Dussmann with me. I’ve never been to see him myself, but he was an acquaintance of my parents. The last time I saw him was at my father’s funeral, two and a half
years ago. The fact that we’re loosely acquainted at least gives me hope he’ll take Joanna’s problem seriously and not just commit her to a clinic.
“How well do you know this … doctor?” Joanna threads her way into my thoughts so smoothly that it’s almost like I’d spoken them out loud. I shrug. “Only vaguely. He knew my parents.”
I look over at her, see her raise an eyebrow. “Knew?”
“Yes, knew. My parents are dead.” I only just manage to suppress the impulse to snap at Joanna, to hurl my words at her. You know that very damn well. Cancer. First my mother, then my father three years later. I told you, right down to the tiniest little detail.
Surely she can’t just have forgotten all that.
The expression on her face tells me otherwise.
The traffic light we’re approaching skips to red. I stop, and feel Joanna’s eyes on me. Look over at her. Why is it right now, in this bizarre situation, that it strikes me just how incredibly beautiful she is?
“Erik … If you really believe what you told me…”
She pauses, as though she’s not sure she can dare say what she wants to say. But then she comes out with it after all. “Did the thought ever occur to you that you might be mistaken?”
I don’t understand what she means. “Mistaken?”
She nods tentatively. “Yes. You’re claiming something’s wrong with me. That I’ve forgotten you.”
“Which you certainly seem to have done.”
“That’s what you’re saying. But maybe it’s you who’s imagining that you know me and that you live in my home?”
“What? You think…” I believe I understand what’s happening right now. Her mind is feverishly looking for an explanation that would confirm that nothing’s wrong with her. Wouldn’t I do the same if it were me? But still … “I used my key to get into the house. You have to admit…”
“It could be a copy.”
“But how do you explain me knowing my way around the house so well? And Bernhard. How come he turned up on your doorstep if it’s me he wanted to see? I know for an absolute fact that we live together, Jo.”
“But that doesn’t prove it. Think about it! If that’s the case, shouldn’t some of your stuff be in the house? Clothes? Furniture? Your bedding? Something?”
Yeah, I haven’t found an explanation for that yet either. “I don’t know either why—” The angry blaring of a car horn interrupts me. The traffic light. I shift into gear and start driving.
“You say you know that we live together.” Joanna’s voice is so quiet I can barely understand it. “But I, on the other hand, know that we’re neither engaged nor in love. And I know that yesterday evening was the first time I saw you.”
“I thought you’d remembered me?” I can hear how much my voice sounds like a petulant child’s, and it irritates me.
“Each of us has their own version, Erik,” she said, sidestepping the question. “And my version could be just as true as yours. How can you be so sure it’s me, that I’m the one something’s not right with?”
We’re on a busy street now, with lots of traffic. But I still glance over at her quickly. “Because, damn it, I just know.” The words come out louder and sharper than intended.
I ask myself if my anger is the result of Joanna’s obtuseness, or whether it’s because what she’s saying might be true. Both of us are sure we’re right, but one of us is living in a world of make-believe right now.
Little by little, we approach the center of town. Another traffic light. Joanna is sitting upright in her seat now; her body seems tense to the point of snapping. No wonder.
“I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m sorry.”
We’re at a standstill now. “None of this is easy for me either, and—” There’s a clicking sound, very loud and very close. I twist around. The brief moment my mind needs to process the movement next to me and turn it into something I can comprehend is enough for Joanna to sweep the seat belt aside and shove the door open. My fingertips brush her arm but fail to grab on.
“Jo, don’t!” I shout after her. “Damn it, stay here. Jo!”
She ignores my shouting and starts to run. A few feet along the sidewalk, then off to the right, following the intersecting road. Out of my line of sight.
I have to go after her. She can’t be running through the city all by herself like this. Not in this state. But the car, the traffic behind me …
I don’t give a crap. Let them honk.
I try to undo my seat belt but don’t manage. Like a man possessed, I pound the lock, curse, scream, take out all of my desperate fury on the goddamn thing while a concert of car horns starts up behind me. Finally, the lock clicks open. I shove open the door … and freeze. What the hell am I doing?
If I mindlessly run after Joanna now, I probably won’t find her. But my car is blocking a busy intersection. The police will be here in two minutes flat, and they’re going to ask questions. I can’t have that. Not now.
I pull the door shut again and take a look into my rearview mirror. The guy behind me is throwing a fit and gives me the finger. Right back at you, asshole.
I step on the gas. There’s that nerve-fraying ding, ding, ding sound telling me I have to buckle my seat belt. I need a place I can stop, where there aren’t any idiots riding their horns. After driving for about five hundred feet, I find an empty parking space in front of a pharmacy. Finally.
I switch off the engine and get out of the car. Even though it’s pointless, I look around for Joanna. No luck, of course. I lean back against the closed car door, rub my hands over my face, and try to force my thoughts back into some sort of coherent order. Being a computer scientist, I should be used to thinking in a structured way, after all. So … Joanna’s running through the city all alone. What’s she going to do? She needs someone, needs to talk to somebody. But who is she going to turn to? The police?
Maybe. But Joanna isn’t quite as panic-stricken as she was yesterday evening. Even if she’s refusing to accept it, she must at least be considering the possibility that I could be right and that something’s wrong with her. And no matter what’s going on inside her head right now, she’s smart enough to figure out how the police might react.
No, she’s going to go to someone she knows first. Someone she trusts. To make sure she hasn’t really lost her mind.
Ela. Of course. Ela is her best friend, the only really close girlfriend she has. She’s a medical technician in the city hospital, not five minutes from here by car. Maybe fifteen minutes for Joanna on foot. That must be where she’s going. If I hurry, we might even arrive at the same time.
I get in the car, wondering why it didn’t occur to me earlier to take Joanna to see Ela. Before dragging her to the psychologist’s practice. Then again, I’m under extreme pressure here myself, and that kind of thing tends to stall your rational thought process.
Should I call Ela and warn her?
No, that’s pointless. I’ll probably have arrived at the hospital parking lot already by the time they’ve put me through to her on the phone.
Damn it, can’t these idiots get a move on? It almost seems like they’re blocking my way just for the fun of it.
Another red light. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. In my head, images from the past are blending with the surreal situation from this morning.
A flea market. The flea market. I’d always written off those stories you hear about love at first sight as being overblown tripe from cheesy romance novels. Until that moment, that is.
I don’t even know if it was really love I’d felt upon seeing Joanna for the first time. In any case, it was something that had struck me somewhere deep inside, completely turning my emotions upside down. I simply had to be near her; I hadn’t been able to help myself. She hadn’t seen me; she’d been completely focused on a small, ornate box, so tacky it was beautiful. The seller had wanted two more euros for it than she’d been prepared to pay. I’d listened to her bargaining, to no avail; then I’d put the
full amount down on the table in front of the man.
I can still picture her right in front of me, staring at me in disbelief. I think it was in that moment, if not before, that I fell irretrievably in love with her.
After she furiously turned away from me, I had run after her. When I’d cut off her path and stood in front of her, I was scared she’d hit me in the face, that’s how angry she had been. But then I held up the box, out toward her. Her eyes had widened in surprise. I said I’d bought it for her. At first she had seemed to want to …
Someone’s car horn is blaring behind me again. I’ve had enough of these damn horns now. I step on the gas pedal so hard that the car bounds forward.
Just a few minutes later, I arrive at the hospital. I find a parking space near the entrance. Taking swift steps, I hurry toward the revolving door and glance at my wristwatch. Joanna leaped out of the car just over twenty minutes ago. So maybe she’s already here.
I know the way to the lab. Down the hall, past the elevators, then through the door on the left. Up some stairs, through the next door, then one more turn, and I’m there. My pulse quickens as I walk the last few steps. What awaits me now?
I knock, open the door. The young, dark-haired woman in the lobby gives me a friendly look past the side of her monitor. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” My voice sounds hoarse. “I’d like to see Ela Weisfels, please.”
A hint of sympathy settles over the friendly smile.
“I’m sorry, Ela left already; she was on the night shift.”
“OK, thanks,” I say, and am about to turn away as something occurs to me.
“Oh, I was meant to meet my girlfriend here, we wanted to surprise Ela. Maybe she was already here?”
Now the smile disappears completely. “Yes, about five minutes ago there was a young lady here who wanted to see Ela as well.” She fiddles around with something on her desk, then gives me a strange look.
“Not that it’s any of my business, but is everything all right with your girlfriend? She seemed somewhat … distraught.”
Strangers Page 4
