If TU still hadn’t got the message that it was an innocent enquiry, it was her problem. Or his. Maybe DeReu was gay.
When Caz got off at the stop, she noticed that the shop was closed and Tieneke’s place was as dark as before. But it was quite a distance away, so maybe she was wrong. She was certainly not going to walk all the way over there now. A shower and bed. That was all she could manage.
Her cellphone pinged again just as she got into bed. Maybe Tieneke had just come home? She stretched and picked up her reading glasses from the bedside table. TU. Ammie is alive, but she’s old, senile and in poor health. Where in Belgium are you?
Caz felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her birth mother was alive. She had realized it was a possibility, but having it confirmed struck her like a blow to the head. Somewhere in this same country there was a woman named Ammie Pauwels who knew she had given birth to a child, had bartered over her, then abandoned her. Senile or not, at some level she had to know it. Ghent, she typed when she had regained her breath.
There was a long pause before the next message came through. Can you meet me Monday morning in Leuven?
Her heart was beating so fast and her fingers were trembling so badly that it took an eternity before she could type the two simple words. Yes. Where?
At Fonske. Statue opposite town hall. 10:00.
This time she managed to type faster: Know where it is. Will be there.
This is no promise to take you to Ammie, but we can talk. Okay?
I understand. How do you know her?
Long pause.
Through Luc. I have his permission to act as I see fit.
I thought he wasn’t available, she wanted to say, but decided against it. She would try to unravel everything on Monday. Thanks, said her last message. There was no reply.
Luc
Damme
He had painted himself into a corner, Luc realized immediately. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice. If she did, he would just say he was the only one who had contact with Luc, and act mysterious.
If he decided to speak to her on Monday. It was always very busy in the vicinity of the Fonske statue, so he should be able to see which way the cat jumped before deciding whether to meet her. If he was there ahead of her, he should be able to identify a woman arriving on her own and standing around. He could send a text and look for someone with a beeping phone. He would just have to remember to put his own phone on silent mode, in case she thought of the same plan. And he had to remember to take his spare phone, not his normal one.
Luc smiled at himself again. He read way too many cloak-and-dagger stories. Still, he was serious about protecting Ammie. If it turned out to be unnecessary, he would simply own up.
Now he just had to ask Laura if she would be willing to switch classes. It shouldn’t be a problem. He had done it for her before.
First and foremost he had to talk to Ammie to find out what he could about her daughter. Watch another cat jump.
With a bit of luck he could sleep at Herman’s place. He was one of the few colleagues from Luc’s KU Leuven days who had been sympathetic and had remained a friend.
Luc had already switched off his reading light when his phone rang. The one he’d used to contact Caz Colijn. It wasn’t a message, but a call. He groped for his glasses. By the time he had them on his nose, the phone had stopped ringing. The caller wasn’t CC, as he had listed Caz Colijn. It was a private number.
Could be a wrong number, but the coincidence bothered him. Why would someone phone him tonight of all nights on a number he had never used before today?
Erevu
Ghent
If he had known what he now knew, he would never have sent for Dove.
And yet he could never have handled things on his own. Besides, the boy’s knowledge of cellphones and technology was indispensable. How else would they have found out the Caz woman had tried to contact Ammie Pauwels’s stepson? Professor Luc DeReu. That was the connection. The old woman must have remarried and this professor was her husband’s son.
To think it had been so easy. To think the old woman was still alive! It was more important than ever to follow the Caz woman’s trail. Back to Leuven.
But Dove had saddled them with other problems. Thanks to him, they had to vacate their lodgings hastily. Bloody Dove with his rash behavior. His lack of caution.
It meant they were solely dependent on technology to follow the Caz woman’s trail. They would have to remain very far in the background.
Maybe he shouldn’t have phoned DeReu’s colleague—the one who had sent the message. But he had hoped the person would answer with a name. It would have helped just to know whether it was a man or a woman, but a name would have been first prize. He or she had probably been asleep. But it shouldn’t be a problem. He had made certain his number wouldn’t show.
He wondered how Dove felt in his hideout tonight. It was a dump, but the best they could find in the available time. Anyway, he was too angry with the boy to care. The fact remained, they couldn’t be seen together. They would use their tablets to remain in contact but they’d limit it to the minimum. Especially now, after the boy’s indiscretion. That was why he had taken over the cellphone monitoring. He was the decision-maker, after all. There hadn’t been much time, but Dove had shown him what to do.
If only he knew how the boy’s mind worked. What had he thought he would accomplish? Couldn’t he just have ... Still. They would simply have to pull it off. Success was within reach. At last.
Nineteen
Saturday, September 27
Caz
Ghent
On Monday she would find out where she came from, but to agonize about it all weekend was no use, Caz decided after a restless night. It would be much more productive to try to find out what had happened to Tieneke. Hopefully it would chase away the shadows of the muddled dreams that were still occupying her thoughts.
There was no change at Tieneke’s house, Caz saw at once. The curtains were still drawn, the hallway light was still switched off. Tieneke hadn’t answered any messages and the sound of the cellphone was still audible when Caz sent a new message.
Caz had thought she had an explanation figured out. Tieneke had gone away for the weekend. Left early Friday morning. Forgot her cellphone, and by the time she discovered it, she’d gone too far to turn around.
A tidy, logical explanation. Except for the hallway light. The bulb could have blown. Yet a sense of unease kept gnawing at Caz.
In the neighboring house on the left all was still quiet, but from the house on Tieneke’s right Caz heard voices and the sound of a radio. It was the first time she had noticed any sign of life there.
She knocked hesitantly.
An overweight man with a deep suntan opened the door. He gave her the once-over before turning on a jovial smile. He was wearing a green vest and ridiculously bright trousers. A silver chain glinted around his neck and a tattoo wiggled on his biceps.
“Can I help you?”
“Good day. I’m looking for your neighbor, Tieneke Colijn. You didn’t happen to see her yesterday?”
The man pulled a face as if he had just bitten on an olive stone. “We don’t know anything about those neighbors and we don’t want to either. Talk about stuck-up and grumpy! No, we didn’t see her. Anyway, we only came back last night from a month’s holiday in Italy.”
That would explain the dark tan.
“Thank you. Sorry to have bothered you.” Caz turned to go. She felt his eyes on her until she entered the shop.
“Good morning! Is Tieneke still not home?” Babette asked when she came in.
Caz shook her head. “Can you remember when last you saw her?”
Babette put down the damp cloth she was wiping the counter with. “Yes, I tried to figure it out last night when I saw you at the door. Then I remembered it was Thursda
y afternoon, shortly before closing time. I saw her Polo drive past. Usually she stops at the front door to drop off her shopping in the hallway before she parks the car round the back, but not this time. She drove past. That night the lights in the house were on. I live in the apartment over the shop and my balcony looks out on the back gardens.
“That was how I saw the tenants of the rental home leave yesterday morning. I was having coffee on the balcony. They were driving a hatchback. I could see there was a lot of luggage inside. I didn’t even know the two of them were together. The older man moved in quite a while before the younger one.”
“Maybe they also went away for the weekend. Maybe the older one gave the younger one a lift somewhere.” And maybe she just didn’t want Tieneke’s disappearance to have any connection with the two men. It would present too many awful possibilities.
“I have spare keys if you want to take a look. Not for the front door. But for the padlock on the big garage doors and the door from the garage to the garden. For the French doors too, giving entry to the house from the garden. Of course you can only get in if the garage door is locked from the outside. If Tieneke has left in the car, in other words. It’s an arrangement we made a while ago in case Fien had a problem while Tieneke was out.”
Caz weighed her options. Tieneke wouldn’t like it if she entered without permission. But she could collect her luggage and be off as soon as she found a flight. That Tieneke would like.
Of course there was also the “what if,” so typical of someone who came from a country where one immediately expects the worst if someone isn’t where he or she is supposed to be.
“If she takes exception to my letting you in, I’ll tell Tieneke you were just worried.” Babette obviously knew Tieneke better than Caz had thought.
Caz nodded. “I think I’ll take a look after all, thanks. She could have fallen or something.”
“As I said, if the garage is locked from the inside, you won’t be able to get in. Let’s see. Wait here and I’ll fetch the keys. They’re upstairs in my apartment.” Now Babette also seemed worried.
Luc
Damme
Luc found it hard to focus on the dissertation, and not only because the student had tried to mask ignorance and scanty research with a pompous academic style.
That phone call late last night was bothering him. If it had come through on his normal phone, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but he had never used that particular SIM card before. He bought it once when he thought he had lost his phone. Soon afterwards he had found the phone where it had fallen into the gap between the seats of his car.
Something else bothered him. Why didn’t the number show? Why had the settings been made private?
Did he read too many thrillers, or could someone have tried to find out who Caz Colijn had been texting?
No, he was being silly. That would mean her phone was being monitored.
He tried again to focus on his work, but without any luck. At last he set the dissertation aside. With a sigh, he drew his laptop nearer. He googled the name Caz Colijn. There was still only the LinkedIn profile. He didn’t really know how LinkedIn worked. Only that you could leave a message there for members of your network. Or so he thought. Where you went to read those messages was anyone’s guess.
It took him a while to create an alternative email address and set up a LinkedIn profile for TU. Then he sent a request on behalf of TU, asking Caz to accept him as a member of her network.
He could only hope she would see the connection between TU’s request and the TU of the messages and accept.
He reached for the dissertation again, but left the laptop open, watching it with an eagle eye while he read. It was like waiting for milk to boil. It never happens while you are watching. He knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.
Caz
Ghent
Caz rattled the keys dangling from her finger and gazed at the garage door. The bolt wasn’t shot and there was no padlock hanging from it. She tugged at the door handle but the doors remained closed. Locked from the inside.
It could mean only one thing. Tieneke’s car was in there. Surely she wouldn’t have driven round to the front door and come back to lock the garage door from the inside?
There might be an outside chance though. Perhaps precisely because Babette had keys. Fact was, she couldn’t reach Tieneke if she happened to be inside the house, maybe lying at the foot of the stairs, injured. Neither could she get to the luggage she had left there.
A feeling that something was drastically wrong grabbed hold of her. At home she would have gone to the police or the security company and raised the alarm. Here she didn’t know what the hell to do.
Babette didn’t know either. “I suppose we could dial 101. It’s the police emergency number.”
Caz considered it, then shook her head. “I don’t know whether this qualifies as an emergency. Even if her car is still in the garage, she could have taken a bus, or a train.”
“Perhaps we should get a locksmith to open the front door. In case something happened to her inside the house. With your permission, surely it wouldn’t be breaking in? You were Fien’s foster child?”
So that was how Tieneke had referred to her. It probably wasn’t far from the truth. Most likely it was exactly what she was. She had just assumed she was adopted, but who knows whether the process had been legal? In the end it probably didn’t make much difference.
“I must say I thought it was terrible that for so many years you made no effort to contact the foster mother who raised you. But from the way you worry about Tieneke, I can see you have a good heart.”
The bile that pushed up in Caz’s throat was an emotional rather than a physical reaction. What other stories had Tieneke dished up as the truth? Still, it wasn’t important now.
“I think I’ll risk Tieneke’s anger, rather than regret it later. Can you recommend a locksmith?”
“I can. I’ll call him.”
Luc
Damme
He was a bloody fool. She had told him she was in Ghent. Obviously she had to be staying with relatives if she only found out here that Ammie was her biological mother.
Luc typed www.1207.be into the search box. The page opened quickly. Colijn. Ghent. Two Colijns, T and J, the same number. As easy as that.
Luc found the street address in the directory. One visit to Mr. Google and he would know exactly where it was. In the street-view photograph he would be able to see exactly what the house at that number looked like. But why would he want to do that? He had arranged to see Caz in Leuven so that she wouldn’t know they were in the same city. He had no intention of taking her to Ammie either, unless Ammie wanted to see her—which at this point was most unlikely.
He sat back in his chair and gazed up at the centuries-old wood of the ceiling. What did it feel like to know your biological mother had abandoned you and never contacted you again? He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine that Caz Colijn could be kindly disposed toward the woman who had given birth to her either.
Ammie’s safety was his responsibility now. Exactly how that had come about he didn’t know, but that was how it was. He would have to suss things out very carefully.
Last night’s call kept bothering him. Or was he paranoid? Had a switch been flicked in his mind that made him see himself as Jack Reacher or Rebus? Or was something else wrong? Early senility maybe?
It had all begun when he saw the woman with the curly gray hair and assumed the dark-skinned student as following her. Maybe he had burst a blood vessel and was close to being certifiable.
Or maybe his life was just so dull that his imagination was taking over, even outside the world of books and movies.
Caz
Ghent
The locksmith was there within an hour.
“You’re sure you’re in a position
to give me permission to enter?” he asked as he unrolled his tool kit.
Caz nodded. Of course she wasn’t sure, but she was willing to chance it and suffer the consequences if necessary.
Barely a minute later the front door was open. The fellow would make an excellent burglar.
Caz switched on the light in the hallway. It worked. The bulb had not blown. It made her very uneasy. Tieneke wasn’t someone to deviate from a pattern. Well, at least she wasn’t lying at the bottom of the stairs.
“Tieneke?” she called, though she sensed there was no one in the house. There was no reply.
“Could you come with me, please?” she asked the locksmith, suddenly afraid of the dimly lit house.
He looked at his watch. “I can’t stay long.”
Nothing in the kitchen gave any indication of what had become of Tieneke. Everything was neat and tidy, as usual. Not a single glass or cup out of place. A cabinet door was slightly ajar, but it was the one that didn’t close properly. In the living room she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The cushions might not be as meticulously arranged as usual, but that was all.
The French doors to the back garden were locked, and the key was not in the lock.
She unlocked the door with Babette’s set of keys and walked through the garden to the garage. Her suspicion was confirmed. The Polo stood in its usual place, white and shiny. Next to it was a bicycle.
“How do you account for this?” she asked after she had locked the French doors again.
“Excuse me?”
She looked at the locksmith. “We found the French doors that lead to the garden locked and without a key. The car is locked in the garage. There was no key in the front door. If Tieneke left through the front door, why would she take the key of the French doors along? The Polo is in the garage, but she might have taken a bus somewhere. Or a train. Still, why would she have taken the key of the French doors?”
The locksmith pursed his lips and shrugged, glancing at his watch again.
“Will you come upstairs with me, please? I’ll pay for the extra time.”
Sacrificed Page 21
