Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(101)

“Even eleven years ago there was something about her that could throw fear into us.” The others had nodded in agreement. “Nadia didn’t get to where she is by accident. When she wants something, she gets it. Never mind who loses.”

Nadia von Bredow had felt that Amelie Fr?hlich was a threat and wanted to gain control over her. The fact that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone was not a good omen.

Deep in thought, Bodenstein sat in his car. What a day! First the discovery of Lars Terlinden’s body, then the fire in Thies’s studio, Hasse’s incredible admissions, the meeting with Daniela Lauterbach … Then he remembered that he was supposed to call her later, after she had told Christine Terlinden the bad news about her son’s suicide. He took out his cell phone and searched the inside pocket of his coat until he found the doctor’s business card. With heart pounding, Bodenstein waited to hear her voice. But in vain. He got her voicemail. After the beep he asked her to call him back at her convenience. He might have stayed sitting in his car if the coffee he’d drunk hadn’t been pressing on his bladder. It was time to go inside anyway. He glimpsed a movement out of the corner of his eye and nearly jumped out of his skin when somebody knocked on the window.

“Dad?” It was Rosalie, his eldest daughter.

“Rosi!” He opened the door and got out. “What are you doing here?”

“I just got off work,” she said. “But what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

Oliver sighed and leaned against the car. He was dead tired and had no desire to talk about his problems with his daughter. All day long he’d been distracted from thinking about Cosima, but now the unbearable feeling of failure fell over him.

“Grandma told me that you slept here last night. What happened?” Rosalie gave him a worried look. In the dim glow of the single light her face looked ghostly pale. Why shouldn’t he tell her the truth? She was old enough to understand what was going on, and she’d find out sooner or later anyway.

“Last night your mother told me that she’s been seeing another man. As a result I preferred to sleep somewhere else for a few days.”

“What?” Rosalie’s face showed disbelief. “Why, that’s … No, that’s impossible.”

Her bewilderment was real, and Bodenstein was relieved to know that his daughter wasn’t a secret accomplice of her mother.

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “I couldn’t believe it at first either. It’s going to take me a while.”

Rosalie snorted and shook her head. But all at once every grown-up attitude fell away and she was again a little girl, completely overwhelmed by a truth that was just as incredible to her as it was to him. Oliver didn’t want to pretend that everything would soon be straightened out. Nothing would ever be the same between him and Cosima. The hurt that she’d caused him was too severe.

“Well, what now? I mean … how … how…” Rosalie broke off. Helpless. All at once tears were running down her face. Oliver took his sobbing daughter in his arms, kissing her hair. He closed his eyes and sighed. How he longed to be able to let his own tears flow—to cry about Cosima, about himself and his life.

“We’ll find a solution soon,” he murmured, stroking his daughter’s hair. “I have to digest it all first.”

“But why did she do it?” Rosalie sobbed. “I don’t understand it!”

They remained like that for quite a while, and then Oliver took her tear-stained face in his hands.

“Go home, my dear,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. Your mother and I will get this all straightened out somehow, okay?”

“But I can’t just leave you here alone, Papa. And … and soon it’ll be Christmas, and if you’re not there it won’t be a family celebration.” She sounded desperate and just like herself. Even when Rosalie was little she had felt responsible for everything that happened in her family and her circle of friends—and often took on more burdens than she could cope with.

“It’s still a few weeks till Christmas. And I’m not alone,” he assured her. “Grandpa and Grandma are there, Quentin and Marie-Louise. It’s not so bad.”

“But aren’t you sad?”

He had no reply.

“At the moment I have so much to do that I don’t have time to be sad,” he finally told her.

“Really?” Her lips quivered. “I can’t stand the thought of you being sad and alone, Papa.”

“Don’t worry. You can call me anytime or send me a text. But now you have to go to bed, and I do too. Tomorrow we’ll talk again, okay?”

Rosalie nodded unhappily and pulled herself together. Then she gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, hugged him one more time, got in her car and turned on the engine. He stood in the parking area and watched her go, until the taillights of her car disappeared in the woods. With a sigh he turned to go inside. Knowing that his children would still love him, even if his marriage broke up, filled him with both relief and solace.





Saturday, November 22, 2008



She sat up with a start. Her heart was pounding loudly, and with wide eyes she looked around, but it was as pitch dark as ever. What had woken her up? Had she really heard a noise or only dreamed it? Amelie stared into the dark and listened tensely. Nothing. She had only imagined it. With a sigh she got up from the musty mattress, grabbed her ankles, and massaged her cold feet. Even though she kept telling herself that they would find her, that she would survive this nightmare, she had secretly given up hope. Whoever had locked her in here never intended to let her out again. Until now Amelie had been able to ward off the recurring panic attacks. But now she was beginning to lose her courage, and she often simply lay there waiting for death. So many times she had told her mother, I wish I was dead!—but now she truly comprehended what she had uttered so thoughtlessly. She regretted bitterly how she had treated her mother out of spite and indifference. If only she came out of this alive, she would do everything, absolutely everything, differently. And better. No more talking back, no more running away or being ungrateful.