Page 70 of Anatomy of a Killer
I’d call it an urge.
Where did this urge come from? What did Laura trigger in you to turn you into a killer, unable to stop murdering?
Well, clearly, I have stopped.
Yes, but not voluntarily. It was only your arrest that put an end to your crimes for good.
My arrest. (laughs) In dubio pro reo, don’t you think? Absolutely crucial was what happened in Schergel. Even I hadn’t expected this turn of events.
Ann
Schergel, 29 December 2017
I want to get out of this kitchen, away from Nathalie; I’m finding her creepy.Don’t worry, my little princess,she reassured the empty chair.Nobody’s ever going to part us again.Stumbling backwards into something, I squeal in shock. I turn around; it’s just the fridge. I stare at the drawing stuck to it. On the left is a small figure wearing a sprawling dress and a crown. A monster is making its way into the picture from the right. It’s dark green with spiky-looking scales and fire shooting from its huge, open mouth between sharp teeth. It occupies the entire length of the piece of paper; it must be three or four times as big as the girl with the crown. The princess and the dragon, just like Sarah said.
But there’s someone else: a third figure in the middle. A being in a long dress, perhaps an angel or a good fairy. With yellow hair– blonde, like Nathalie’s. In her outstretched hand, she’s holding a sword or a knife, something with a blade at least, the tip of which she’s pressing against the dragon’s neck.
Reeling, I turn back to Nathalie, who’s still in exactly the same position: standing, her hand on the back of the chair, looking at me.
‘Sarah?’ is all I say at first, because, no, that can’t be true. That’s completely crazy. ‘Is that the reason she’s not making a statement? Because she knows you and doesn’t want you to get into trouble?’ Nathalie doesn’t react. ‘By castle, she meant your house, didn’t she? Sarah was here the whole time, which was why there were no signs of hypothermia. . .’ I look at her in silent supplication. Interrupt me. Tell me I’m wrong. Ask me if I’ve taken leave of my senses. Say something, anything.
Nothing.
‘But why? Why would you kidnap that little girl? I mean, Kerstin was your friend. . .’ I pause. Kerstin Seiler, who’s now dead, murdered. Lenia’s old drawing on the fridge, which suddenly seems like a prophecy. The fairy holding the blade to the dragon’s neck. And Kerstin, who later had a meat hook rammed into her neck. No! No, no, no, no!
‘What have you done?’ I bellow, throwing myself at her. Grabbing her, shaking her. She allows me to do it, as if her body were just a shell and the rest of her somewhere completely different. ‘Talk to me!’
She cocks her head. Reaches for my wrists in slow motion, tightening her fingers around them. I shake myself free.
‘Children,’ she begins quietly, ‘are the greatest gift, Ann. Kerstin didn’t understand that.’
I gasp. Is this a confession?
She smiles. ‘Lenia was desperate for a friend. I knew at once she’d get on well with Sarah. And Kerstin would have the opportunity to rethink her role as a mother. Killing two birds with one stone.’
I cautiously take a step backwards. Itisa confession. Only now I’m no longer sure I want to hear it. Nathalie, who I was so taken by because she reminded me of a feeling. Of Zoe, of love. Please don’t let her be a bad person.
‘Kerstin didn’t treat Sarah well,’ she says, clutching the left side of her chest; maybe her heart is as painful as mine. ‘The little one was for ever in her way; Kerstin always made her feel she was interrupting. The butcher’s was important, Schmitti was important. But what about Sarah? It was dreadful, Ann. When I came to work, she wouldn’t leave my side. She sucked up the attention I paid to her like a sponge. Although she never said so, I soon suspected that Kerstin was beating her. And?’ She raises her eyebrows at me. ‘I was right! Or how else do you think she got those bruises they found on her body in hospital?’
I don’t reply; I can’t.
‘I thought Kerstin needed to have her eyes opened,’ Nathalie continues, in a voice I’d fall for in other circumstances, so warm and soft. ‘To have an experience like the one I’d had. Because, do you know what, Ann? When your child disappears and you fear for their life, it makes you humble, really humble. You pray to God, offering him one deal after another. And if, like me, you’re lucky, he listens to you and grants you a miracle.’
I look to the empty chair, but don’t dare say anything.
‘That’s exactly what Kerstin was forced to go through,’ Nathalie continues. Her tone has changed; now she sounds cold. ‘I wanted her to be devoured by worry, I wanted it to turn her into a new person. And I thought it had worked, I really did! She cried her eyes out when Sarah disappeared, she almost died with worry. But then she got her daughter back and everything went wrong! Think back to the moment outside the butcher’s. Kerstin was like a stone– she didn’t even pick her little girl up, let alone shed a tear out of relief or gratitude. I suppose you could make allowances for the shock. But what was all that later? In the hospital? She let Brock photograph Sarah like an exhibition piece and exploit the poor girl’s misery. She left her child alone and drove home to have a rest. Have a rest, Ann! Is that the sign of a good mother? Is that someone who’s reformed and making the most of their second chance?’
I shake my head, but not in response to her question. I’m thinking of yesterday. How I bumped into Nathalie in the grocer’s and then accompanied her home. The fleck of blood on her trousers– now I know where that’s from. She was wearing a black, knee-length winter coat. Who knows what she looked like under that? How much blood was there on her? I feel terrible. Guilty. Because I wandered beside her like a loving puppy, hauling her shopping up the hill while Kerstin lay dying in the cold store of the butcher’s. Why didn’t I realise anything? She might be still alive if she’d got help earlier.
‘She wasn’t a good person, Ann,’ Nathalie says insistently.
‘So that gave you the right to kill her, did it? Was it up to you to pass judgement on Kerstin for leaving her daughter alone? What is wrong with you? The girl was here while you sat with her mother late into the night, hypocritically comforting her. It was more important to you to delight in the mother’s suffering than to look after Sarah.’
‘Do you think Sarah was unhappy here? On the contrary, Ann! She didn’t want to leave! She enjoyed having a proper mother around, telling her stories, cooking for her, giving her baths and cuddling her! And of course I made sure she’d be fine when I wasn’t home. During those periods she’d be out for the count like Sleeping Beauty.’
‘You couldn’t know that for sure! She could have woken up and got scared in this strange, dark house.’
‘She wouldn’t’ve woken up.’
