by Susan Finlay
She wanted to ask if the house now belonged to Helmut. She wanted to know what had happened to Helmut’s wife. So many questions. But those could wait.
Instead, she asked, “Why were you looking for Vikktor all those years ago? Were you trying to find him to get him to send you back to where you came from?”
He hesitated, glanced at his kids, and then said, “In the beginning, ja, I wanted to get back home. Later, this time period became home. I would not leave now.”
“Then why did you hunt for Vikktor? Why do you want to kill him?”
“He killed someone I cared about?”
“Your wife?” Sofie asked.
“Nein. It was long before I met Anna. I got over it, almost, with Anna’s help. And now Vikktor has struck again. I am nearly certain he killed Johan.”
Ryan said, “I understood that last part. If Vikktor killed him, that means he’s in the area. Or at least he was yesterday morning or the night before.”
“Ja, that is possible,” Helmut said in English and without waiting for Sofie to translate, “though it is also possible Vikktor hired someone to do it. I would not be surprised.”
Ingrid said, “Well, that is just great. We do not even know who to look for. It could be anyone.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KARL KIMMEL PACED across his parlor. The doctor had examined Anneliese last night and had given Karl more of the medicine he’d been giving Anneliese. The doctor recommended he take her to the sanatorium the next day and have her locked up, due to her deteriorated mental state. Her emotional state had continued to grow worse over the past few months since her grandmother died.
Ever since seeing Lotte in the store two days ago, Anneliese had ranted about Lotte killing her grandmother and raved on and on about wanting to get her hands on Lotte to wring her neck. After a while, Karl couldn’t take it any longer and had blurted out the truth, that he had killed his wife, not Lotte, and confessed the whole truth.
“I miss Birgitta more than you can possibly know. She was my life,” he had said. “I never wanted to hurt her. She had been pleading to get me to keep you and Ryan apart. She thought you were still a virgin and she didn’t trust Ryan, not knowing that you were not as pure as Birgitta thought. Remember, I knew your father had caught you with a boy during our last trip. Only I could not tell her that.”
Anneliese appeared to be listening, but her expression was unreadable.
“When she found out about your tryst with Ryan in the stable, she came to me and insisted I go out with her and to discuss it further. Once we got outside, she told me that I must punish my great-grandson—she told me to kill him. She said that if I did not, she would.”
Anneliese’s mouth flapped open, but she said nothing.
“I got angry. We quarreled. I gave in, told her I would do it.” He looked away and hung his head down for a moment. When he raised it, he continued. “We did not know where Ryan was, or where Max was. I told her we should go back inside, act normally, go to bed when the others did, and handle it in the morning. Only, after everyone was asleep, she woke me and insisted we go outside to look for Ryan, who was still out. We did not find him, but we saw Max walking into town and we hid behind some bushes. As Max walked past, Birgitta grabbed a heavy fallen tree branch and hit him over the head. I was angry and demanded she tell me why she did that. Birgitta told me Ryan was Max’s no good son and it was Max’s fault, too, so she had punished him. I did not know what to do, but I dragged Max to side of the road to keep him from getting run over.”
Anneliese shook her head in disbelief.
Karl hesitated, his voice crackling when he spoke again. “We walked around for what seemed like two hours after that, maybe more. I was worried about Max, but Birgitta remained single minded. We had checked the stables earlier and he was not there, but Birgitta wanted to check again. That is when we saw the boy. Your grandmother grabbed the knife, ready to go after Ryan. I had tried to tell myself that I could go along with her plan, but he was my own flesh and blood and I could not allow her to kill him. I tried to talk her out of it. I even told her about you and what you had done with that other boy. That only enraged her further. She started to go after Ryan, and I grabbed her arm. We struggled. I was trying to get the knife away from her.”
He stopped talking and slumped his shoulders.
The silence was deafening. When Anneliese did not respond, Karl asked her, “You would not have wanted either of us to kill Ryan, would you?”
When she still had not responded, he continued on, trying to make her understand, worried about what she was thinking.
“I tried to take responsibility when we were in Senden and I told the others what really happened that night. I wanted to turn myself in to Feldgendarms. Her death should not have happened. Please understand. It was a horrible accident. I would give anything to do it over again and change what I did. If I could go back, I would tell your grandmother the truth right away and make her understand we all make mistakes and should not judge other people harshly. Maybe I could have calmed her down. She might have forgiven you and Ryan. I am sorry for all of it. Oh Gott, please forgive me.”
He bent his head, covered his face with his hands again, and wept until he heard a strange noise and looked up.
Anneliese had grabbed a poker from the fireplace and swung it at him.
He caught her arm in mid-swing and took the weapon from her. She tried to fight him, though even at his advanced age he was stronger. He felt lucky having been able to overpower her, but also felt sad and thought it a pity that this teenage girl had dwindled down to skin and bones over the past few months. Unfortunately, she had done it to herself. Even before Lotte showed up, Anneliese’s moods swung through bouts of depression and self-starvation to elation and wanting to see Ryan. She refused to see that Ryan had shut down any relationship because of her emotional instability.
While he was in thought, Anneliese had screamed and began throwing things at him and at the walls, her rage again out of control. Karl had no choice but to give her more of Birgitta’s medicine. After she calmed down sufficiently—became almost catatonic—Karl had called the doctor.
Karl would have blamed Anneliese’s state on Birgitta’s death, except he had seen signs of Anneliese’s problems beginning months before Birgitta’s death. He had tried to talk to Birgitta about it, but his words fell on deaf ears. Of course, Birgitta had some of her own emotional problems and maybe that’s why she had refused to recognize them in her granddaughter.
What was he supposed to do with the girl now? Take her to an institution? Send her back to the farm to her parents? He’d probably have to drag her by the hair and tie her to the wagon to get her there. Besides that, her father had practically chased them away the last time they’d visited.
He sat down on his favorite chair and closed his eyes, letting his mind take him back to that trip. He had helped Anneliese onto his wagon after they had stopped for a short break, then he’d climbed up onto the bench seat next to her. He’d scratched his bushy beard, sighed, then took the reins in hand and started the wagon moving along the bumpy road back towards Riesen. Five days of traveling in the countryside, peddling his clocks at some of the large estates, left him with three cuckoo clocks unsold and coin in pocket from the four clocks sold. Not his most profitable excursion, but not too bad, either. Birgitta would be pleased—probably. He could not always guess right. One thing he knew for sure, though, was she would be happy to see them back home. She always worried over their well-being, especially for Anneliese, whenever they were away on these trips.
Wherever they went, people raised their eyebrows when they found out he had a female apprentice—it was virtually unheard of. And yet the men to whom he was trying to sell his clocks weren’t impervious to Anneliese’s charms. Karl had taken her onboard as apprentice partially for that reason, but mainly because she was his wife’s granddaughter and had shown an interest and keen knack for clock making. He didn’t care about social convention
s—never had—so if the people who wanted him kicked out of the artisans’ guild got their way, so be it. At eighty years old he was ready to retire anyway.
Anneliese saw him looking at her. “You will not tell Grandma that Papa is angry with me, will you?” Anneliese said, shame and anxiety apparent.
“Of course not. She need not know.”
Two days before, on their way home, they had stopped at Anneliese’s family’s farm to let the girl visit her parents and siblings. This afternoon, a former beau of Anneliese, having heard from a farmhand that she was there, had shown up and her father had caught them together in a dishonorable position. He had beaten the boy and sent him running, then took a few punches at Anneliese. Karl had heard the commotion and come running, quickly intervened, and then they had left immediately afterwards. Her father, Raimund Braun, had yelled after them that Anneliese was a whore. Birgitta would also not approve of her granddaughter’s ill-considered behavior, and Karl did not want to risk her sending the girl away. No good would come of it. Best not to say anything. The girl could not help it that males were attracted to her. She had a natural beauty—perfect skin, shapely figure, soft golden-brown eyes, and long naturally silky hair that matched her eyes. Someday, if luck graced her, she might entice herself a rich husband. Raimund would not complain about that. Neither would Birgitta, Karl was certain.
“Grandpa, thank you. I am sorry. I was stupid.” Karl saw his granddaughter’s shoulders slump in relief. “And thank you for teaching me. You do know that I love working on the clocks with you, ja?”
He nodded.
“I want to learn everything I can.”
“You are doing a good job, Anneliese. I have no complaints.”
He sighed. If only Anneliese was always kind and appreciative and sane. Perhaps there was a way to get her to her family’s farm. He eyed the small bottle of medicine sitting on the table. Ja. That could work. Once there, he would work on her parents and convince them that Anneliese needed them.
MAX AND KONRAD carefully wound their way through the narrow cave passageway with only the light from their torches to guide them, perspiration beading on Max’s forehead despite the chilliness of the cave. At one point, Max jerked his free hand up to guard his torch from being extinguished by a short cool breeze exiting a dark cavity that they walked past. Damn! Three of Max’s biggest fears were snakes, being stuck in tight spaces, and being unable to see where he was going. Crawling around in caves tagged heavily two of those, if not all three. He shivered at the risk he was taking, but he couldn’t ask Konrad to do this alone. Man up! , he told himself.
The further back they went, the creepier it felt. Tobias wouldn’t have come this far in, would he? Especially not without a torch. No, this is a waste of time.
As he was about to turn around and tell Konrad they were going out, a faint voice echoed from up ahead. His mouth gaped open and he thought he must have imagined it. He stopped, stood still, and listened. Water dripped down the walls on either side of him, and several drops made a plip-plop sound as they hit the ground.
Then he heard what sounded like crying. Tobias!
He rushed toward the sound and then screamed out in pain when his head collided with a low ceiling he hadn’t seen in his haste. The pain was severe enough that he had to stop and check for bleeding. Touching his forehead with his fingers, he felt a wet spot. He checked his hand in the torchlight and found a bit of blood, but it wasn’t a lot. He wiped his hand on his kerchief, stuffed it back in his pocket and, after a few moments, he resumed walking, taking it slower and watching for other impediments as he weaved through several narrow openings. Lesson learned; no sense risking life and limb to gain a couple minutes. Besides, that had really hurt!
The crying was getting louder, which meant either the person was crying harder or they were getting closer.
After they maneuvered through a few more tight spaces, their passageway opened into a large chamber, where Max skidded to a stop. “What the hell?”
Konrad bumped into him from behind and almost knocked him over. Max pointed and held his torch out, revealing two human shadows, crouched on the floor along one side of the chamber. Both were too big to be Tobias. He took a couple steps forward to get a better look. It couldn’t be—
“D . . . Dad? Is . . . is that you?”
Long blonde hair, tight blue jeans, a long-sleeved polo shirt. Okay, that did not look like someone from this time period, and she called him Dad and it did look like . . . no, it couldn’t be. He held his torch up higher and move closer. “Lisa? Oh my God! Lisa! How did you get here?”
“Uh . . . uh, we don’t know.” Her voice sounded hoarse and weak. “Mom and I were searching for you and Ryan. The university contacted Mom because Ryan never showed up for school.” She coughed several times. “I’m really thirsty. Oh, you asked how we got here.”
Max rushed over to her and with his free hand helped her stand up, then hugged her.
“We found your grandmother’s house and then we . . . well, I don’t know what happened.”
Max prompted, “You went to my grandmother’s house?”
“Yeah.”
“And you ended up here in this cave from my grandmother’s house?”
“Well, I guess so. I mean, we were in your grandmother’s cellar looking around. We walked through a door into a hallway or tunnel, the lights went dead, we got trashed by some vortex thing in there, and the next thing we were in a cave, but couldn’t find a way out. We had tiny flashlights with us, but even with those we couldn’t find an exit. After a while, we made our way through a bunch of tunnels or whatever you call them. Some we could barely fit through. Then we found this big chamber and stopped to rest. We tried to find a way out from here, but our flashlights quit working. So we decided to rest and sleep for a while, hoping we would think of something when we woke, but here you are! I’m not sure how long we’ve been here.”
“You said your mother is here, too?”
“Yeah, over there, probably still sleeping. We were really tired.” She pointed behind her at the dark figure he’d spotted before.
Max held his torch up high and could clearly make out his ex-wife, slumped on the floor, half lying down.
“I’m awake,” she said. “Just too tired to get up and come over there to hug you, Max.”
Oh crap! Now what am I supposed to do? Max swiped his hand through his hair and wished he could sit down. How could this have happened? They’d boarded up the entrance to the cave underneath where the new house was being built, thinking that it would prevent anyone from their village getting into the cave and being sucked into the time portal. Hah! They hadn’t considered that someone might come through it from the house in the future. What’s wrong with me? I should have realized someone would miss Ryan.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HELMUT LOOKED DISTRACTED for a moment, and Ingrid wondered if he was thinking about whom Vikktor might have sent to kill Johan, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. She took the time to study his face. As a child he’d been fair complexioned because he stayed indoors all the time, his face always buried in books. Now, his face was tanned and lined with tiny wrinkles, especially around the eyes and mouth. His hair was still blond, but much longer than she’d ever seen it, almost to his shoulders, and with his blond beard and mustache, he looked a bit like a Viking.
He finally spoke, ending her observation. “I have told you why I am looking for Vikktor, but why are you?”
Ingrid said, “Vikktor knows how to work the time portals for one thing. We may or may not return to the future, but knowing more about the portals and how they work is important to us. Sofie and her husband Max are building Max’s grandparents’ house, the one I told you about. One of the time portals is in the cave below the house.”
Helmut raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, he said, “I know someone who can perhaps give us some background on the portals.”
“Someone here in Dinkelsbühl?”
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br /> “Nearby.” He hesitated. “You know him, Mutter.”
Ingrid’s breath caught for a second. “Who is it?”
“Uncle Werner.”
Ingrid felt like someone had smacked her. “How could that be? He was killed in the war.”
Helmut shook his head. “That’s what everyone was told. It was a lie. I do not know the whole story, but he can tell you.”
Ingrid and Sofie exchanged looks. Sofie said, “Should we go to see him now, or should we stay here and try to find out who killed Johan?”
“Whoever it was, he is probably gone from here,” Helmut said. “Anyway, I feel certain Vikktor is behind it. My hope is that Uncle Werner will know where to find Vikktor.”
“Where is Werner?” Ingrid asked.
“In Riesen. He lives there with his wife, Gretchen.”
“That is good news,” Ingrid said. “We should leave at once.”
Helmut said, “We should ride the horses and leave wagons here. We will travel faster and arrive before nightfall.”
Sofie said, “Ryan can get our horses ready.”
She turned to translate for Ryan.
He said, “That’s okay. I understood that.”
Two hours later, the riders stood in front of Helmut’s house, the horses twitching and ready to go. Helmut had planned on leaving the twins at home, but they had insisted on coming along.
The girl, Johanna, had pleaded with her father and when he gave in, she had clapped her hands together, then ran to her room and packed up a few things to take with.
Now, as they prepared to climb aboard the horse, Johanna, said, “May I ride alongside Oma? It will give us time to get acquainted.”
Ingrid smiled and said, “I would love to have you ride with me.”
They both looked at Helmut. He nodded his approval.
