by Inge Löhnig
There was a lot about his job that had become routine, as with all jobs, but children going missing was something he could never get used to. Whenever it happened, he was seized by a restlessness that drove him on as if he was being hunted. Usually, the children turned up within a short space of time and had got lost or were hiding or had defiantly run away while their parents went mad with worry. Dühnfort hoped that this case would be the same and that the parents would soon have their child in their arms again. But more time than usual had already passed.
Why was the boy’s disappearance reported so late? It was uncommon for a small child. What kind of parents am I dealing with? he wondered. Were they indifferent or overwhelmed or maybe even involved somehow?
After a short drive, he reached the village, which was situated on a hill between the large Seeoner Forest and Church Lake. The onion-domed tower of the old monastery church protruded above a group of red-tiled roofs in the twilight.
Dühnfort drove along Dorfstrasse and sensed an unrest that seemed to slosh between the buildings like groundswell. There was a shadowy sort of movement along with muffled cries and slamming doors. He followed the satnav into the centre of the village, passing the square with its maypole and fountain. Just beyond it, he turned off onto Cudheri-von-Isen-Strasse, where the Sonnberger family lived. Dühnfort drove another hundred metres and then stopped in front of a farm. There was a tractor under the barn roof. The smell of manure hung in the air and he could hear cows mooing from the stalls. He went up to the house. A man in a suit opened the door before Dühnfort had even rung the bell. The very neat haircut and guarded smile reminded Dühnfort of his neighbour, an insurance agent. ‘Are you from the police?’
Dühnfort nodded. ‘Mr Sonnberger?’
‘Gernot Mittermeyer. I’m a neighbour. Come in.’ Dühnfort followed him through the hall. ‘Mr Sonnberger isn’t in. He’s out with the search party,’ Mittermeyer said and opened the door to the kitchen. Two women were sitting at a round wooden table that was laid with three place settings and an afternoon snack. As the men entered, one of the women looked up. She had chestnut-brown curls and a face full of freckles. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up and some floury bits of dough were stuck to her right wrist. She had her left arm round the shoulders of the slender woman sitting beside her. Dark hair emphasised the pallor of the second woman’s face. Worry and strain were visible in the lines around her mouth and eyes. She stared at her folded hands like an oracle ready to prophesy at any moment.
‘Gabi, the police,’ Mittermeyer said. Her head shot up. Intense blue eyes stared up at Dühnfort. They were full of fear but also hope. Hope that he would now have to fulfil.
A boy of around five years old crawled out from under the table. He was holding a toy car.
Dühnfort introduced himself. ‘Mrs Sonnberger,’ he said and extended his hand. ‘We will find your son. A search is already under way?’
‘The neighbours are all looking for him,’ she said. The tendons in her neck stuck out like steep ridges. ‘It’s like a flood.’ Dühnfort sat down and wondered whether she was referring to her fear or the search. Possibly both. The boy looked up at him.
‘That’s Dennis, our son,’ Mittermeyer said. ‘And my wife, Irene.’ He pointed to the woman sitting next to Gabi Sonnberger and she nodded at Dühnfort. ‘I’d better take Dennis home now.’ Mittermeyer took his son by the hand and said goodbye.
‘So, your neighbours and your husband are already searching for Jakob,’ Dühnfort said.
Gabi Sonnberger nodded. ‘Of course, the first thing I did when Jakob didn’t come home for tea was ring everyone in the village.’ She rested her hands on the table.
‘After that, the news spread like wildfire. And now everyone is searching,’ Irene Mittermeyer said. ‘But there’s still no trace of Jakob. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air.’ She shrugged.
‘Can I have a photo of Jakob and a description of his clothes?’ Dühnfort asked.
Gabi Sonnberger nodded. She pushed back her chair, stood up and went over to the kitchen sideboard. She picked up a colourful envelope, the sort that photo labs use to send prints, selected a photo and placed it on the table in front of Dühnfort.
So this is Jakob, he thought. The boy was holding up a plastic dinosaur and baring his teeth. The first of his baby teeth had fallen out, leaving a big gap in the upper row. Dühnfort knew how proud children were when that happened. Jakob’s eyes were blue like his mother’s.
He jotted down what Jakob was wearing: jeans, trainers with Velcro fastenings, and a red jumper. ‘Might Jakob have gone to the lake . . .?’
‘No. Certainly not.’ Gabi Sonnberger tried to make her voice sound firm, but Dühnfort could hear the fear in it. ‘He still can’t swim. We’ve forbidden him from going to the water by himself. And he obeys our rules.’ It sounded like a question.
Two cars drove up to the farm, one after the other. The engines went quiet, the doors slammed. The doorbell rang. Irene Mittermeyer went to answer it and came back with Gina Angelucci and Alois Fünfanger. Gina was wearing her usual cargo trousers, which she had in every colour. This evening they were bottle green. She greeted everyone and sat down at the table. Alois Fünfanger’s suit looked freshly pressed, even though he’d been wearing it all day. How does he do it? Dühnfort wondered and looked down at his own wrinkled chinos and crumpled shirt.
‘Jakob was last seen at half past three,’ he said, after he’d introduced his colleagues.
Gabi Sonnberger nodded. ‘He was with Dennis.’
‘But you only reported him missing just after six. Why so late?’
‘I thought he was still with Dennis.’ Gabi Sonnberger pressed her hand over her mouth.
‘Jakob was supposed to stay with us until half past five. But I let him go home at three thirty,’ Irene Mittermeyer said. ‘The boys had a row and then Jakob wanted to go home.’
‘Was it a serious fight, something that could have made Jakob want to run away or hide?’
Dennis’s mother shook her head. ‘You know how kids are. They both accused each other of being stupid and said they didn’t want to be friends any more. It happens all the time and then they make up again after.’
‘You didn’t accompany Jakob?’
‘It’s not far. He’s done it by himself many times before.’
‘Jakob is allowed to go that way on his own,’ Gabi Sonnberger said. ‘Since he started at kindergarten,’ she added.
It was easy to see how it had happened. It wasn’t carelessness or neglect that had led to the boy having gone missing for more than two hours without anyone noticing, but rather a lack of communication.
Alois cleared his throat.
Dühnfort looked up. ‘Yes?’
‘Sunset is around half past eight. We still have time to deploy the helicopters in daylight. I’ve already requested two and they’re in position, just waiting for us to give them the go-ahead.’
This pushiness surprised Dühnfort. Given that he was the team leader, it would have been better if Alois had consulted him. He looked over and saw Gina chewing on her fingernail and Alois watching with his eyebrows raised. Anyway, all that mattered at present was that they find the boy quickly. ‘Good. They should get moving immediately. You take over coordinating them.’
He asked Gina to take charge of questioning the villagers while he led the search party. ‘They have thermal-imaging cameras and night-vision goggles on board,’ Dühnfort said to Gabi Sonnberger, as Alois left the kitchen. ‘We can also find your boy in the dark.’
‘We once found a little squirt sleeping under a clothes rack in a department store while two hundred police officers were searching for him in the pedestrianised area outside,’ Gina added.
Gabi Sonnberger looked up but couldn’t muster a smile.
Dühnfort wondered if he should stay and wait for Jakob’s father. But organising the search for the boy had to take priority. ‘Whatever it is you’re afraid of, it’s almost certainly no
t what’s happened,’ he said and hoped that he was not mistaken.
Friday, 9th May
It was shortly before 7 a.m. when Dühnfort arrived back in Mariaseeon. The air was still cool and the bright blue sky promised spring temperatures. He parked in front of the bakery and bought a croissant and a cup of coffee. He took his breakfast back to the car, where the roof served as a makeshift table. He yawned.
Just before 2 a.m. he had reluctantly closed down the search for Jakob. It was a cold night and the trees of Seeoner Forest weren’t that leafy – ideal conditions for thermal-imaging cameras – but the helicopter crew had still only managed to scare a pair of lovers in their car.
Exhausted, Dühnfort had fallen straight into bed. Images from the evening floated around him like ghosts as he dozed off. The arc of the searchlight over the forest, the divers sliding from the lifeboat into the dark lake, Gabi Sonnberger’s scared expression. The troubles of the day had crept into his dreams, eventually driving him out of bed and back to Mariaseeon.
Until they found some clues as to Jakob’s whereabouts, he had less to do than he’d have liked. Even so, he had requested reinforcements, because the Seeoner Forest was too large for him to be able to comb through it quickly with a hundred-man search team. Alois would take over questioning Jakob’s relatives, as well as organising an incident room.
Dühnfort washed down the last bite of croissant with coffee. Maybe Jakob had just run away? But he could see no reason for it. From what he’d been told, the fight with his friend had not been very serious. I should speak to Dennis, Dühnfort decided. And there was also the possibility that the two boys had a secret hiding place and that Jakob was there, safe and sound. But Dühnfort doubted that. The people of Mariaseeon had searched their houses, gardens, stables and barns well into the night and hadn’t found the slightest trace of the boy. Perhaps there was someone who actually didn’t want to find him. Dühnfort’s train of thought had finally reached the point he feared the most: someone had kidnapped Jakob. Speculation. What we need are facts, he thought and tossed the empty paper cup into the bin.
He stood in front of the long village square that Jakob must have crossed that day. The road diverged at the top of the square, splitting into two one-way streets that wrapped round the neatly groomed green space. At the bottom of the square, the two lanes converged again. In addition to the bakery, where Dühnfort was standing, there were a number of other shops: a chemist’s, a bookshop and a stationery shop. On the opposite side of the square was a small hotel called Zur Post, the town hall and the church. The small road where the Mittermeyers lived, Klosterweg, branched off from the square a bit further south. According to the investigation thus far, Irene Mittermeyer was the last person to have seen Jakob. Dühnfort glanced at the time. Five past seven. Maybe it was too early, but he didn’t care.
He walked across the square and rang their doorbell.
Dennis’s mother had circles under her eyes and her grey complexion suggested that she’d had little sleep. She was wearing a light blue velour tracksuit.
‘Good morning, Mrs Mittermeyer,’ he said.
‘Oh, Mr Dühnfort, is it good news . . .? Have you found Jakob?’ A warm glow flashed across her face and then immediately turned into an anxious smile as she seemed to realise that the finding of Jakob could also be bad news.
‘Not yet. May I come in for a moment?’
She held open the door and he followed her into the kitchen. It smelled of coffee and toast. Gernot Mittermeyer and Dennis were sitting on a pinewood corner bench having breakfast. Dennis was still in his pyjamas. He was kneeling on the bench, hunched over a bowl of pastel-coloured cereal rings and milk. He slurped from a spoon that was too big for his little mouth.
‘Dennis, mind your manners.’ Gernot Mittermeyer folded the paper, gave his son a disapproving look and stood up. ‘Do you need me?’ he asked. ‘I’ve actually got to be at the office.’
‘You weren’t home yesterday afternoon?’ Dühnfort asked.
‘I didn’t get home until seven. And by then half the village was in turmoil.’ Mittermeyer grabbed the briefcase that was resting on a chair and then turned to his wife. ‘See you this evening, dear, and don’t drive yourself mad. The police will find him.’ As he spoke, he looked over at Dühnfort with an expression that seemed to say: don’t disappoint me. Then he ruffled Dennis’s hair. ‘Cheers, comrade.’
‘Bye, Daddy,’ Dennis said as his father left the kitchen.
What a nice family, Dühnfort thought, as a dull pain rolled down his throat and settled in his stomach. Irene Mittermeyer offered him a seat. He sat next to Dennis, who looked at him attentively.
‘Mrs Mittermeyer, I would like to know what happened yesterday afternoon.’
She sat down at the table. ‘Yes, of course.’ She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’ve been so angry at myself for not going with Jakob.’
‘You don’t normally go with him.’
‘Not any more. Jakob and Dennis will start school in the autumn and they’ll have to walk there and back by themselves.’
‘We’re not babies,’ Dennis added.
Irene Mittermeyer looked at the clock. ‘And big boys can also get dressed and brush their teeth on their own. So get a move on: make yourself presentable!’
‘Why don’t you have a uniform? Aren’t you a real policeman?’ Dennis asked.
‘It’s so the bad guys don’t recognise me right away,’ Dühnfort said.
‘Of course!’ Dennis slapped himself on the forehead and grinned at Dühnfort. ‘Then they would run away the second they saw you! Do you have a gun?’
Dühnfort nodded.
‘Can I see it?’
‘Dennis, that’s enough. Please go upstairs,’ Irene Mittermeyer said. Dennis pouted but then stood up without any argument, darted out of the kitchen and ran upstairs.
‘You’ve got a nice boy,’ Dühnfort said.
Irene Mittermeyer smiled. ‘He’s sweet and incredibly exhausting and I wouldn’t give him up for anything in the world. I can’t even imagine what Gabi and Beppo must be going through right now. I feel terrible. If only I’d taken Jakob home.’
‘But there was no reason to. Or was there? Was anything different from normal?’
She shook her head. ‘Everything was the same as usual.’
She explained that Jakob had arrived at half past two, that the boys watched a video and then played in the garden.
Dühnfort wanted to see the garden, so Dennis’s mother led him through the living room and outside. A chain-link fence marked the boundary between the two semi-detached houses. On the south side there was a dense hornbeam hedge with an opening for the garden gate. Dühnfort opened it and stepped out onto a narrow footpath. A few metres to the east, the path ended at Dorfstrasse, which Dühnfort had driven in on earlier. In the other direction, the path turned out of sight after about fifty metres.
‘Where does the path go?’ Dühnfort asked.
‘To the Sonnberger farm. It ends at the orchard in the back.’
‘So Jakob walked down here?’
‘No, he took the road at the front. Gabi and I both think the path is creepy. It’s not really a place where people walk. Mostly just drunks go in there to pee.’
‘So Jakob and Dennis played here.’ Dühnfort went back into the garden and looked at the large sandpit, which had a blue plastic digger in it. Behind it was a swing set with monkey bars.
‘First they went on the swings.’ Irene Mittermeyer continued, explaining that she checked on the boys about fifteen minutes later. By then they had stripped down to their underwear and were pushing each other in the sand. ‘ “We’re sumo wrestlers,” they said, those little string beans.’ Mrs Mittermeyer smiled. ‘I thought they were playing. But they were actually fighting for real. Jakob lost, but he didn’t want to accept it. Then Dennis tried to enforce his victory with his fists. They were both shivering out there, so they had to come inside. I thought everything was fine at th
at point, but then they continued bickering. I let Jakob go home so that they could both calm down.’
‘So he went out the front.’ Dühnfort went back into the house, through the hall and opened the front door.
‘He put on his shoes and said goodbye to me. Then he stomped out. I watched him walk off,’ Irene Mittermeyer said, pointing towards the square.
Dennis came running in. He was wearing jeans and a jumper. ‘Now can I see your gun?’
‘No,’ his mother said.
‘Oh, man.’ Dennis stamped his foot. ‘Not fair!’
Dühnfort crouched down in front of the boy. ‘So, you fought with Jakob?’
‘Why is it always my fault? Jakob fought with me. And besides, he’s stupid. He doesn’t even know the rules of the game. He said I’m not his friend any more. Well, I don’t want to be his friend anyway.’ Denis’s bottom lip trembled. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. ‘But you’re still going to find him, right?’
‘I plan on doing that,’ Dühnfort replied. ‘Maybe you can help me. Do you boys have a secret hiding place?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ Dennis said. ‘Then it won’t be secret.’
‘In the hayloft at the Sonnbergers’,’ Irene Mittermeyer said. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said apologetically to Dennis.
‘Oh, man.’
‘Of course we’ve already looked there,’ Irene Mittermeyer added.
‘And do you have any other hiding places?’
Dennis shook his head, pouting.
‘The hayloft is really high up.’
‘Eighty-seven hundred metres,’ Dennis said.
‘Pretty brave of you to climb up there.’
‘We’re not scared.’
‘Certainly not,’ Dühnfort said. ‘Do you sometimes test your courage?’
Dennis scrunched up his eyebrows.
‘Like if one of you dares the other to eat a spider or go into a dark cellar alone or into the woods?’
