by Susan Finlay
“Mathias brought Werner here, during the war, because my brother didn’t want to fight for the Nazi’s.”
“I know,” Sofie said. “He told us. Lotte and me.”
“Did he, now? Did he also tell you that he worked with Mathias from the time he arrived here for six years, and that Mathias taught him all about how to work the portals?”
Sofie gasped. “No, he didn’t tell us that. Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. That’s why Mathias took me in—because my brother had quit, only at the time I didn’t know about Werner being here. I thought he’d died in the war. Mathias didn’t give me the name of his partner.”
Tired of standing in the same spot for so long, Sofie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You’re saying that Werner could send all of us back to the future?”
“He can but he won’t. When he found out you and the others were here, he wasn’t happy, but he stayed out of it. But when he heard that I was going to send Lotte back, he was livid. He told me that if I did, he would kill you or someone in your family.”
“Why?”
“He said she is dangerous for all of us, especially in the future, since she now knows about our businesses.”
“She didn’t know. Not details, anyway. She didn’t know until Werner told her a couple of days ago.”
“She knew enough to cause problems. As long as she is here, we can watch her, that’s what he said. He also said that she wouldn’t dare go to the Feldgendarms to report us since she is wanted for murder.”
“That’s what Karl told us you said.”
“No, not me. Werner.”
She considered his words. “All right, tell me why would Lotte go to the police in the future? Why would she care what you’re doing here? If you’d sent her home, none of us would have known Helmut and Werner were here. None of us would have known about your business. It doesn’t make sense.”
“She would have to explain your disappearance and Karl’s grandson’s and great-grandson’s disappearances. She told me that the librarian in Riesen saw all of you together. If she turned up weeks or months later, alone, she would have to explain. We discussed this, and she said she would tell the truth. She was tired of making up lies to protect me.”
“Then I was right. You were the one who decided she couldn’t go back, that she was too much of a danger for you.”
“No,” he said, running his hand through his hair and pacing, “yes, I was worried, but it was Werner who said I couldn’t send her back. He was the one who threatened you and your family.”
“I see. And how did he know what she said?”
Again, his hand tousled his hair, only this time he didn’t pace, but stood there shuffling his feet, as if searching for words. In the moonlight she couldn’t see his facial expression, the one thing that would have told her more than words ever could. She knew him well enough, having grown up in his house. Was that why he’d chosen nighttime and outdoors to meet her? Did he not want her to see his face?
If that was the case, he was lying again.
INGRID ALMOST STOOD up in the wagon, excited at finally seeing the farm in the distance. The sun had started setting and she had been afraid they would have to spend the night camped alongside the road. They’d thought they were lost until they’d come across an old man walking along, who had given them directions. Fortunately, they only needed to backtrack a couple miles and take a left turn onto a dirt road. “I hope they will invite us to eat dinner and to spend the night,” she said to her grandchildren.
“So do I,” Johanna said. “I have never slept outside and do not want to face all the bugs and wild animals.” She shuddered, and Ingrid smiled. Such an innocent. Both of them—Johanna and Peter.
As they neared the farm, Peter said, “I will stop near the front door of the farmhouse. Oma, can you and Johanna go to the door and see if Karl is still there?”
“What if he has left already?” Johanna asked, her face lined with worry creases.
Peter said, “Tell them who we are and ask if we can sleep in their barn tonight. We are almost related, since our father’s aunt Gretchen is related to their family.”
Johanna nodded. “Yes, I did not think of that. And Oma’s oldest brother is married to Gretchen. Gretchen is her sister-in-law. That counts, too, does it not?”
Ingrid hoped that would work. She surely didn’t want to sleep out in the open, mimicking Johanna’s sentiments, and at least there was protection from wild animals, and sleeping on hay would be more comfortable than in the grass.
As they rode the last half mile to the farm, the only sound was the rattling of the wagon and the footsteps of the horses’ hooves hitting the ground. The sky was navy blue, filled with hundreds of stars when they finally pulled up to the front door.
Johanna jumped down and helped Ingrid get down. “Are we sure this is the right farm?” Johanna asked.
Peter nodded. The twins looked at each other, then both moved toward the porch, with Ingrid bringing up the rear, but stopped when three men in uniform came around one side of the house, heads bent together and talking.
Feldgendarms. Mein Gott! Ingrid clutched her chest and froze. Had Gretchen somehow gotten word to them that she was on her way to the farm? Did Gretchen know Ingrid’s real identity?
“Oma, why are they here?” Johanna whispered, her head turned slightly as if to look over her shoulder at Ingrid, but Ingrid was sure the girl’s eyes were glued to the uniformed men.
Ingrid grabbed her granddaughter’s arm. “We must leave at once.”
Johanna turned fully around and faced Ingrid. “But we need to see if Tobias and Max are here. Is that not why we came here? We cannot give up.”
Tobias! What if he was here and something had happened to him? What if that’s why the Feldgendarms came?
Ingrid could hardly catch her breath. Somehow she had to find out, but without giving herself away. Then she remembered she was using a new identity. The Feldgendarms didn’t know what she looked like.
But what if Karl was here and he told them who she was?
Well, he can’t prove it, can he? And if he tries, then I’ll tell them it was him—that he killed Birgitta—and that I was just covering for him. His word against mine.
She folded her arms and steeled her resolve.
“What should we do, Oma?”
“We talk to them, but remember I am Ingrid Wagner, staying with my son and his children. No mention of my other name or Riesen, ja?”
Johanna nodded and Peter agreed. Johanna said, “I will let you do the talking.”
“That is good. If Karl shows up and tells them who I am, you must help me convince them he is lying.”
“All right” Johanna said, “I—I will try. I am not so good at lying. Peter is only slightly better at it.”
He gave her a funny look, but said nothing.
Ingrid said, “I hope it will not be necessary.”
Peter said, “I will wait with our wagon. Let me know if you need my help.”
Holding onto each other’s arms, Ingrid and Johanna approached the men. Ingrid smiled and tried to put on a brave front, but inside she was a quivering mass of jelly. She could be walking into a trap. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then said, “Guten Abend. We are friends of the Braun family. This is their farm, is it not?”
The shorter one nodded.
“Are they at home? Can we go inside?”
The oldest looking of the Feldgendarms said, “Frau Braun is upstairs resting. Her daughters are attending her. Her sons are not here.”
“And her husband, Raimund?”
The officers exchanged looks, conferred momentarily, then the older one who’d spoken said, “He is missing. There is a search party underway.”
Ingrid tilted her head, not expecting that. “Missing? Is that the reason for your visit?”
He nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What do you mean? Has something else happened?” She held her
breath and tried to appear calm and innocent as she waited for his reply.
He looked to the short Feldgendarm, who nodded, then replied, “There has been a murder.”
She gasped. Johanna squeezed her arm hard. When Ingrid turned to look at her, Johanna’s face was pale, her eyes were wide with shock, and her other hand was over her mouth. She suspected that her own face was equally pale. Ingrid struggled to regain her voice. Finally, looking back at the Feldgendarms, she said, “Who was killed? Someone in the family?”
“The youngest daughter.”
“What?” She stared, seeing a fuzzy mass of color and outlines of the officers, but no detail, as she tried to remember what Karl and Birgitta had told her about the family months ago. “Mein Gott. Do you mean Anneliese?”
“Are you family?” he asked, suddenly looking more closely at Ingrid and Johanna, and then past them to Peter.
“We . . . we are distant relatives,” Ingrid said, her lips quivering as she spoke. How could this be happening? Not Anneliese. An innocent young girl, crazy maybe, but not a bad person. “My . . . my sister-in-law is Herr Braun’s aunt. Gretchen. Gretchen sent us here. We brought baked goods from her as presents for her nephew and his family.” She motioned toward the wagon. “There must be a mistake. Are you sure Anneliese—” She couldn’t finish. Her legs felt wobbly underneath her.
Johanna grabbed Ingrid around the shoulders to help steady her.
“What is going on?” Peter asked as he rushed over and stood next to them.
Johanna whispered to him, telling him what they knew.
The Feldgendarm said, “Her grandfather and siblings confirmed it was Anneliese Braun who passed on. You knew her?”
“I did. Where is her grandfather? May I talk with him?”
“He is out with the search party.”
“I see.” Seeing an opportunity, she added, “We came here to visit, but also to look for two other missing family members. My great-grandson and his father.”
“Someone mentioned another missing person.” He glanced at the other two men. “What was the name?”
Another Feldgendarm said, “I believe it was Max Hollander.”
Ingrid gasped again. So Max had come here. And now he was gone again? “What about the boy? He is ten years old. His name is Tobias Sonnenberg.”
The men shook their heads.
“Do you know who killed Anneliese?”
“We do not. We have a couple of suspects.”
“Who?”
He looked again to the other Feldgendarms, then said, “We are not at liberty to say.”
“Can we go inside and see the family, offer them our condolences, and see if there is anything we can do to help them?”
“I guess that would be all right.” He hesitated, then added, “What are your names?”
Ingrid felt her face get hot. She tried to stay calm as she said, “I am Ingrid Wagner. These are my grandchildren, Johanna Furst and Peter Furst.”
He nodded, but didn’t speak.
Ingrid hurried onto the porch and into the house, not bothering to knock. A young woman, sitting in the kitchen, stared in surprise. Ingrid quickly offered their condolences, introduced herself and the grandkids, and explained why they were there.
The woman, who had introduced herself as the middle daughter, Erma, dabbed at her puffy eyes. Ingrid would have known she was Anneliese’s sister without the introduction, because she had the same honey-colored hair and soft brown eyes. “I cannot believe what has happened,” Erma said. “We knew something was wrong with Anneliese. She was not herself. But why would someone kill her?”
Seeing an opportunity to get information through a different means, she asked, “Do you know who the suspects are?”
“The Feldgendarms seem convinced it was Papa, because he was angry with the world and because he is gone. They think he ran off to escape capture, but I am not so sure. What if the killer was after him, too?”
“Why would he kill his own daughter? Did they not get along well?”
“I do not believe he would kill Anneliese.” She turned her head for a moment, attempting to collect herself, then continued. “She disappointed him sometimes, but he still loved her. I know he did.” Erma, who Ingrid guessed was around twenty years old—two or three years older than Anneliese, dabbed at her eyes again and sniffled.
Ingrid said, “I thought she lived with her grandfather. Why did Karl bring her here? Were they visiting?”
“He said she was not well and that she needed her mother. I suppose he was right, only . . . if he had kept her in Riesen, she would still be alive.” She sobbed and then blew her nose into her wadded hankie.
“How well do you know Karl? Do you trust him?”
She raised her head and looked directly at Ingrid. “I have known him my entire life. Are you suggesting he might have killed her? Why would he do that? He was looking out for her best interests by bringing her here. If he wanted to kill her, he could have done it in Riesen.”
Ingrid shrugged, realizing the truth of it. “Did she say or do something that made someone angry? Maybe she threatened someone?”
Erma laughed, a hysterical kind of laugh. “Anneliese barely spoke since she got here. She was almost lethargic. I had never seen her like that before.”
Ingrid considered her words. Changing the subject, she said, “The Feldgendarms told us that Max Hollander was here, too, but now he is missing. When did he arrive?”
“He got here last night, with his brother, I think. We let them spend the night and then Karl and Max’s brother left to find men who could help search for Max’s missing son.”
“Max did not go with them?”
“No, he does not speak much German, so he would not be helpful. Besides, they thought he should stay here and keep an eye on Papa because he was angry and acting strangely.” She hesitated. “Now that I think about it, that does make Papa sound guilty, does it not?”
“Why was he angry?”
“I do not know. He has been angry for a while now, but it got worse when—” She stopped talking and placed her hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh, Gott, it got worse when Karl showed up with Anneliese. Then, when Karl tried to recruit my brothers and the hired hands to form search parties to look for Max’s son, he started screaming and throwing things and saying he would not allow them to go. That is what Karl told us.”
Ingrid tried to remember what, if anything, she had heard about Raimund. Had Birgitta talked about him? She couldn’t remember. “Did Raimund and Karl get along with each other?”
Erma shrugged. “They sometimes talked late at night after everyone else went to bed. I do not know what they talked about.”
“Did your father ever visit with his aunt and uncle, Gretchen and Werner Furst?”
Her face lit up for the first time since they’d met her. “Ja, he visited them quite often in Riesen. He and his uncle got along quite well. You see, Papa grew up around Uncle Werner because after his own father died, he and his mother, Grandma Birgitta, spent a lot of time at her sister and brother-in-law’s home.”
“Oh, I thought she lived here on the farm back then.”
“She did. It was her parents’ farm. But sometimes she wanted to live in the city and would go and stay with her sister. I do not blame her for that. It gets boring here sometimes.”
“Where did she live while she was married to her first husband?”
“In Dinkelsbühl.”
Johanna asked, “Do you remember what her married name was then?”
“Birgitta Stumpf.”
Johanna gasped. “She was my Opa’s sister-in-law. I had no idea she had remarried after her husband passed away.”
Ingrid squinted. “Wait, how is it that everyone I know is somehow connected with each other. This seems like a . . . a bizarre coincidence.”
“Why is that?” Erma asked. “How else would people meet their future wives and husbands other than through friends and family?”
Hmm, in th
ese times she had a point. It was sometimes hard for Ingrid to remember that people in this time period lived in lowly populated areas and didn’t get around much. Of course they would have to rely on the people they already knew to meet their future spouses, unlike in the future where people used dating services, the internet, nightclubs, and discos and married people all over the world.
“Uncle Werner visited his friend, Herr Stumpf, fairly often on business in Dinkelsbühl,” Erma said. “Occasionally, Gretchen and Birgitta would go along with him for a holiday. That is how Birgitta met Johan’s brother, Manfred. They married after a short courtship and had their baby, Raimund, a year later. Manfred died in a horrible accident when they had only been married nineteen years.”
“And then she came back here to her parents’ farm and sometimes to her sister’s house,” Ingrid said, finally following the story. Erma nodded. “When did she meet Karl?”
Erma said, “The first time was sixty years ago, when Oma was newly married. He married her sister, Margrit, who was seventeen, and they left together. She met him the second time almost twenty years ago, when he came to tell our family Margrit had passed away. I was only a baby when he married my grandmother, but I have heard the story many times.”
Ingrid struggled to sort through all the information. Hmm. That part about how Karl had gotten involved with the family was the same as what Gretchen had told her. That part was likely true then, but what about Werner knowing Helmut’s father-in-law, Johan Stumpf?
So, if Karl and Vikktor and Werner all knew each other for many decades and then they met Johan somewhere along the way and introduced Raimund, too, what did that mean? Were they all working together in the smuggling business, for lack of a better name for their line of work?
The locations—Riesen, this farm out in the countryside, and Dinkelsbühl—were all within a day’s ride, or less, of each other. A kind of triangle. That could have worked nicely for them. Might one of them have a hiding place where they kept transported people temporarily until they could find homes?
Mein Gott! If they did, that could be where Max and Tobias were.
Ingrid bit her lip. Would this young woman know of a hiding place around here? But how could she ask without making her suspicious?
