Page 5 of Anatomy of a Killer
‘My. . . ?’
‘It’s what your colleague just told me. She sent you home a little earlier so you could set up the trampoline before your daughter gets home from her father’s tomorrow.’ As if in slow motion, his gaze wanders to the pile of shredded newspapers with their headline about the murders.
It suddenly hits me.
My aloof manner. My neglected appearance– unwashed, dyed black hair, and clothes full of stains. My pale face, the bags under my eyes from the sleepless nights. This angry outburst. And, most of all, a daughter I never told him about. As if she didn’t exist–anymore.
Us
You’re like a song that’s planted itself in my head, a stubborn melody. You’re expertly arranged, a perfect harmony of beauty and innocence. Every one of your notes goes to the centre of my heart. I purse my lips and hum to myself, softly, very softly, because nobody must hear you. I don’t want to share you. Ever again.
I arrived silently, like a ghost, like a shadow in the night. A screwdriver and thirty seconds was all it took the shadow to force open the window on the ground floor. On a standard window you only need to use a screwdriver in two places, as the shadow learned from an information film the police– the police!– had put online to warn people of the tricks burglars use, and to encourage the use of security windows. Idiots. I climbed in, crept my way through the building and found you sleeping like an angel. The moonlight on your face– how beautiful you were, so lovely, lovely.
‘Wake up, princess,’ I whispered softly, and you opened your eyes. You looked at me as if you’d long been expecting me to come. And you had, hadn’t you? I could read it in your face. You didn’t have to say anything; I could hear your thoughts, as loudly and clearly as words.
‘Take me with you,’ you begged. I carefully lifted you in my arms. Your head lay peacefully on my shoulder; you let yourself be carried away just like that. We disappeared via the window I’d come in through and hurried to the car I’d rented. I wrapped you in the warm, cuddly blanket that was lying ready on the back seat. It was winter after all, and I didn’t want you to freeze.
‘Go back to sleep, my sweetheart,’ I said. ‘And don’t worry. When the sun comes up, we’ll be somewhere different, far away where nobody will find us.’
I kept my word, didn’t I?
Nobody’s found us, nobody has a clue.
You and I, or death. It’s as simple as that.
Ann
Berlin, 25 December 2017
At first there’s just the hissing in my ears, then comes the stabbing pain in my skull. I try to open my eyes, but in vain. My eyelids are heavy, my lashes stuck together. I’m lying softly, but uncomfortably. I move gingerly, first stretching my legs out, then placing a hand on my head where the pain is raging.
What happened?
Yesterday evening. . .
Jakob was asking about my daughter. I realised there was a dreadful misunderstanding. He thought I was the mother of one of the victims, who’d flipped out when the newspaper reminded her that she’d never again celebrate Christmas with her child. I felt like leaping to my feet and making myself scarce. But I suspected that would only make it worse. And that Jakob was the sort of guy who’d come running after me in a situation like that. So I had no option but to admit that I’d merely invented my daughter.
‘I thought a bit of sympathy couldn’t hurt, seeing as I had no other qualifications to bring to the job. Everyone at Big Murphy’s is working to look after children or family, you know, and it creates a sort of bond between them. They’re different from me.’
‘What are you like, then?’
I shrugged. ‘Complicated, I reckon.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, what I told you about my German studies is roughly true. I mean, I was studying until recently, at least. I just need a break at the moment, you understand? So I can think about my life and that.’
‘A minor crisis, then?’
‘That sort of thing.’
‘What about the newspaper dispenser?’
‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘Maybe it’s a slightly bigger crisis. Christmas really grates.’
Jakob sighed. ‘Come on, I’ll take you home.’ He got up and offered me his hand. ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t a date, just a lift. I mean, all manner of nutters could be roaming the streets at this time of night.’
My eyes automatically darted to the left and right across the deserted Christmas streets. There was nobody here. Nobody apart from him and me. But I got into his car and, instead of letting him drop me off a few streets further down and disappearing into the entrance of any old building, I unthinkingly directed him to our house.
