Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(109)

The store was closed for lunch, and no one answered the door at the house either. Oliver and Pia went into the bright barn where large stalls housed cows with calves, standing knee-deep in straw or lying contently chewing their cuds. What a sight, compared with the usual animal husbandry with its narrow pens. In the rear courtyard two eight- or nine-year-old girls were currying a horse that patiently submitted to their affectionate grooming.

“Hello!” Pia said to the two girls. They were as alike as two eggs and were unmistakably the younger sisters of the dead Stefanie. The same dark hair, the same big brown eyes. “Are your parents home?”

“Mom is over there in the horse stable,” one of them replied, pointing to the long building behind the cow barn. “Dad is hauling away the manure with the tractor.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Beate Schneeberger was just sweeping the stable aisle when Oliver and Pia came inside. She looked up when the Jack Russell terrier that had been rummaging after mice in an empty stall began to bark.

“Hello?” Bodenstein called and then stopped. The terrier was small but still shouldn’t be underestimated.

“It’s all right to come closer.” The woman gave him a friendly smile without interrupting what she was doing. “Bobby makes a lot of noise, but that’s all. What can I do for you?”

Bodenstein introduced himself and Kirchhoff. Beate Schneeberger stopped. The smile vanished from her face. She was a beautiful woman, but care and sorrow had left clear traces on her even features.

“We came to tell you that your daughter Stefanie’s body has been found,” Bodenstein said.

Mrs. Schneeberger looked at him with big brown eyes and nodded. Like Laura’s mother, she reacted calmly and with composure.

“Let’s go in the house,” she said. “I’ll call my husband. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

She leaned the broom on one of the stall doors and got her cell out of the pocket of her down vest.

“Albert,” she said. “Can you please come to the house? The police are here. They’ve found Stefanie.”

* * *



Amelie woke up because in her dream she thought she’d heard a light splashing sound. She was thirsty. She had a terrible, torturous thirst. Her tongue stuck to her palate and her mouth was as dry as paper. A couple of hours ago she and Thies had eaten the last couple of crackers and then drank the last of the water. Amelie had heard that people had saved themselves from dying of thirst by drinking their own urine. The narrow strip of light under the ceiling told her that outside their prison it was daytime. She could make out the contours of the bookshelf on the other side of the cellar room. Thies lay curled up next to her on the mattress, his head in her lap, sleeping soundly. How did he get here? Who had locked them both in? And where were they, anyway? Amelie’s despair grew. She would have liked to cry, but she didn’t want to wake up Thies, even though her leg had gone to sleep under the weight of his head. She licked her dry tongue over her chapped lips. There it was again. That gurgling and splashing sound. As if somewhere a faucet was running. If she got out of here she swore that she would never waste water again. She used to pour out whatever was left in a half-full bottle of soda if it had gone flat. What she wouldn’t give now for a swallow of lukewarm, flat Coke.

Her gaze roamed over the room and stopped at the door. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that water was actually trickling through the gap. Excitedly she pushed Thies off her lap, swearing as her numb leg refused to obey. On all fours she crawled across the floor, which was already wet. Like a dog she greedily licked up the water, moistening her face and laughing. God had heard her desperate prayers. He wasn’t going to let her die of thirst after all. More and more water was coming in under the door, splashing down the three steps like a lovely little waterfall. Amelie stopped laughing and straightened up.

“That’s enough water, dear Lord,” she whispered, but God didn’t hear her. The water kept on coming, already forming a big puddle on the bare cement floor. Amelie’s whole body began to tremble with fear. She had never wished for anything more ardently, but now that her wish for water had come true, this wasn’t exactly what she had hoped.

Thies had woken up. He was sitting on the mattress with his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth. She frantically considered going over to the bookshelf and shaking it. It was rusty but seemed stable enough. Whoever had locked her and Thies in here must have turned on the water. This room was apparently deeper than the rest of the cellar. There was no drain in the floor, and the narrow light coming from outside was right under the ceiling. If the water kept running it would eventually flood the room. They would drown like rats. Amelie looked around wildly. Damn! She had survived this long without flipping out, without starving to death or dying of thirst, so she had no intention of drowning. She leaned over Thies and took his arm in a firm grip.

“Get up!” she ordered him. “Come on, Thies! Help me put the mattress on top of the bookshelf!”

To her amazement he stopped rocking back and forth and stood up. Together they managed to heave the heavy mattress onto the top of the bookshelf. Maybe the water wouldn’t reach that far, then they’d be safe up there. And with each hour that passed the likelihood that someone would find them increased. Somebody would have to notice the running water—a neighbor, the water company, or someone else. Cautiously Amelie climbed up onto the bookshelf so that it wouldn’t fall over. When she reached the top she stretched out her hand to Thies. She hoped the old rusty thing would hold both of them. A moment later he was sitting next to her on the mattress. In the meantime the water had covered the floor of the cellar room and was still flowing through the crack under the door. Now all they could do was wait. Amelie shifted her weight and carefully stretched out on the mattress.