Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(57)

Everyone took their seats, and the mood was happy and relaxed. Even Rosalie had left her kitchen and was drinking champagne.

“Oliver.” His mother leaned over to him. “Could you get me a glass of water?”

“Yes, of course.” He pushed back his chair, stood up and walked through the kitchen, which his hardworking daughter had almost finished cleaning up. In the pantry he took two bottles of mineral water from a case. At that instant a cell phone rang in one of the jackets hanging on hooks next to the door to the garage. A special ringtone. Oliver knew the sound. It was Cosima’s cell. He struggled with himself, but this time his suspicions won out. He quickly stuck one bottle of water under his arm so he could search the pocket of the jacket she’d been wearing earlier in the day. He found the phone in the inside pocket, flipped it open, and pressed the message symbol.



MY DARLING, I THINK OF YOU ALL DAY LONG! LUNCH TOMORROW? SAME TIME, SAME PLACE? I LOOK FORWARD TO IT!




The letters on the display blurred before his eyes and his knees felt weak. Disappointment hit him in the stomach like a fist. How could she pretend like that? Smiling and walking hand in hand with him around Glaskopf Hill? Cosima would notice that someone had read the text message, because the message symbol was now grayed out. He almost wished she would talk to him about it. He stuck the phone back in her jacket, waited until his heart slowed to normal, and went back into the dining room. Cosima sat there with Sophia on her lap, laughing and joking as if everything was fine. He felt like calling her out in front of everyone and telling her that there was a text message from her lover on her cell, but then his eyes fell on Lorenz, Thordis, and Rosalie. It would be selfish and irresponsible to spoil this lovely day for them with his unconfirmed suspicion. He had no choice but to grin and bear it.

* * *



With an effort Tobias opened his eyes and groaned. His head was roaring and the slightest movement made him feel terrible. He leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up into the bucket someone had put beside his bed. The vomit stank terribly. He fell back and wiped his mouth. His tongue was furry, and the carousel in his head wouldn’t stop. What had happened? How did he get home? Images raced through his foggy brain. He remembered J?rg and Felix and other old pals, the garage, the vodka mixed with Red Bull. There had been a couple of girls there too, and they kept giving him conspicuously curious glances, whispering and giggling with each other. He had felt like an animal in the zoo. When did all that happen? What time was it now?

With great effort he managed to sit up and lift his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun before his eyes. Amelie had also been there—or was he mixing things up? Tobias got to his feet, braced himself against the slanted ceiling, stumbled to the door, opened it, and felt his way along the hall. He’d never had such a bad hangover in his life. In the bathroom he had to sit down to pee or he would have fallen over. His T-shirt reeked of cigarette smoke, sweat, and puke. Disgusting. He got up from the toilet and was shocked when he saw his face in the mirror. The hematomas around his eyes had spread down and formed purple and yellow spots on his pale, unshaven cheeks. He looked like a zombie, and he felt like one too. Footsteps in the hallway, a knock on the door.

“Tobias?” his father called.

“Yeah, come in.” He turned on the faucet and cupped his hands under the cold water, drinking a few swallows. It tasted terrible. The door opened and his father looked him up and down with concern.

“How are you feeling?”

Tobias sat back down on the toilet seat. “Like shit.” It took a huge effort to raise his head, which felt like lead. He tried to look at his father, but his eyes kept sliding away. At first everything looked very close, then far away. “What time is it?”

“Three thirty. Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh God.” Tobias scratched his head. “I really can’t take much more of this.”

His memory came back, at least in part: Nadia had been with him up by the edge of the woods, talking to him. Afterward she drove him home because she had to get to the airport in a hurry. But what had he done then? J?rg. Felix. The garage. Lots of alcohol. Lots of girls. He hadn’t been feeling well. Why not? Why did he go there in the first place?

“Amelie Fr?hlich’s father just called,” said his father. Amelie. There was something he needed to remember about her. Oh yeah, she’d wanted to tell him something important, but then Nadia showed up and Amelie ran off.

“She didn’t come home last night.” The urgent tone of his father’s voice made him pay attention. “Her parents are worried and are thinking of calling the police.”

Tobias stared at his father. It took a moment before he understood. Amelie hadn’t come home. And he’d had a lot to drink. Just like eleven years ago. Ice settled over his heart clenched.

“You … you don’t think I had anything to—” he broke off and gulped.

“Dr. Lauterbach found you last night at the bus stop in front of the church on her way back from an emergency call. It was half past one. She drove you home. We had a hell of a time getting you out of the car and up to your room. And you were talking about Amelie the whole time…”

Tobias closed his eyes and dropped his face in his hands. He tried in vain to remember. But there was—nothing. His friends in the garage, the giggling, whispering girls. Had Amelie been there too? No. Or was she? No. Please no. Please, please no.