Time Heals No Wounds (31 page)

my family has suffered from the ternheims’ deeds, and many times at that.

and me? i still suffer to this day.

this curse has been with me since early childhood.

i don’t believe in happiness because no sooner do i feel it than it is taken away,

as if the ternheims were my fate,

as if they had been sent into this world to torment me each and every day.

but i have had enough of letting this clan destroy my life.

that’s why i struck before it was too late.

and now i will bring this to an end,

i do it for myself and for all those who have suffered because of this family.

do not condemn me, just try to understand,

because time heals no wounds.

Hands trembling, Hannes laid the letter on the table. His last remaining doubts had disappeared. Suddenly Anna’s words replayed in his head. “It’s almost as if someone wanted to exterminate the Ternheims. Like a personal vendetta.”

Suddenly everything was clear.

“Damn it! Old Ternheim’s next!”

S
UNDAY
A
FTERNOON

“We almost had him!” Henning Federsen banged his fist on the table. They were in a small, shabby room on the fifth floor of the police station.

“We almost had him before,” Fritz said. “Say, Henning.” He leaned both arms on the desk and looked him in the eyes. “How can a young man who’s only been cited for a few run-ins fool the city’s entire police force?”

“His cell phone’s off, we have little information about his personal life. And he doesn’t have a car, doesn’t use credit cards, and hasn’t been spotted by any surveillance cameras. The city’s large enough to hide in. Maybe there’s another change in the works,” Federsen said. They had known each other since their days at the academy and had experienced profound changes in the police force over the years. “There are plenty of young men today who know how to effectively use their social skills. Our time’s coming to an end, and that’s probably a good thing. The dinosaurs went extinct, after all.”

“The problem is that men like Hannes are far too trusting. They have a hard time imagining that people don’t always act the way we expect them to. So, where did you lose Ben Sattler this time?”

“Wait a minute. The last time he escaped, you were there, not me!”

“Okay, okay!” Fritz said. “Where did
we
lose him this time?”

“At a gas station on Fuchsberg Street, on the northeastern outskirts. An officer on patrol had just filled his tank and was about to pay. Inside the store, he noticed a guy with blond dreadlocks duck behind some shelving, then take off.”

“Why didn’t the officer catch him?”

“The suspect grabbed the officer’s motorcycle and took off! Such a rookie mistake, leaving the key in the ignition. We’ll probably have to expand the search to all of northern Germany.”

Fritz took a deep breath. “Did the cop at least notice which direction he went?”

“Away from the city. The coastal road. But he could be anywhere now.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’ll take a look around just in case. Tell me if you hear anything new.”

Federsen got a call, and Fritz left the office. He’d overlooked the fact that he’d left his cell phone on the edge of the desk.

Hannes ran into his bedroom and quickly changed into jeans and a thin wool sweater. He grabbed his tattered jacket and ran out the door, leaving Socks alone. Just as he was turning toward the steps, his neighbor Richard stepped outside.

“Hannes, I haven’t seen you in a while. Were you on vacation?”

“No, I’ve just been really busy,” he said and headed for the stairs.

“There’s been some excitement in the building after that snake got loose,” Richard said as he leaned against the banister, blocking Hannes’s path. “Mrs. Kowarz on the first floor drafted a petition demanding that management terminate the snake charmer’s lease.”

“Did they catch that thing?”

“You didn’t hear? The snake was found on Thursday on a nursery school playground.”

“Unbelievable. And where is it now?”

“The zoo came and took it.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m sorry, but I have to go to a meeting and I’m already very late. Say hi to Heike. We’ll have to talk more next time.”

He pushed Richard aside and raced down the stairs. Richard shouted something down the stairs, but he didn’t hear it. He bounded three steps at a time and nearly knocked over old Mrs. Kowarz.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kowarz!” he called to her as he made his way to the basement parking garage. “Your petition’s a great idea. I’ll sign it tomorrow!”

Hannes barely got his truck to start and took off as he scrolled through the contacts in his phone. He had just found the final puzzle pieces he needed to complete the picture and had to contact Fritz, because Old Ternheim was now in grave danger. He should have been put under police protection a long time ago!

“What?” someone barked at him.

“Uh . . . Fritz?” The voice didn’t sound right.

“Fritz isn’t here. He left his phone on my desk. This is Federsen. Who’s this?”

“Uh . . . Hannes Niehaus. I’m his assistant. So where is he?”

“How should I know?”

Hannes hung up. For several minutes he struggled with whether he should call for backup. But what if he was wrong? Then he would forever be the butt of jokes at the station, and Fritz would no longer take him seriously.

Hannes bolted out of town just as the rain picked up. A few minutes later he turned off the highway onto the sloping coastal road. Low-hanging black clouds cast a pall over the landscape which made it hard to see. Fierce gusts of wind blew branches into the middle of the road, and Hannes had to swerve to avoid them.

Finally, the old lighthouse loomed before him, and he turned down the small dirt road. The old truck skidded across the soggy ground, and in a moment of carelessness, Hannes lost control of the car and slid sideways into a small ditch. He put it into reverse and cautiously pressed the gas, but the wheels were stuck. He hit the gas harder and tried to rock the vehicle but was unsuccessful. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Hannes turned off the engine and listened to the loud patter of rain. He put on his jacket and looked at the cascades of water through the side window before throwing open the door. His shoes landed in a small puddle and were immediately soaked. The truck’s wheels had dug deep grooves in the ground and were covered in mud.

Hannes wiped the water from his eyes. Streaks of lightning flashed across the sky, bathing his surroundings in bright light. Then thunder tore through the air. He thought about getting back in the car but decided to throw himself against the storm with all his might and struggled to take small steps forward. When he reached the forest, he was mostly shielded from the wind, and the treetops managed to catch some of the rain. He had to stare at the ground to keep on the barely visible path. Then he started to run, hoping to reach the clearing. A glance at his watch spurred him on. Since he had found the letter, almost an hour had passed, and he had no idea how long the envelope might have been lying by the door.

His wet pants clung to his legs. He continued jogging and was soon out of breath. Just when he was ready to slow down, he saw the small clearing. Then another flash of lightning bolted across the sky. This time, it only took a second for thunder to rattle the earth. Without the protection of the trees, Hannes was defenseless against the downpour. Each step he took caused water to spurt up like a fountain as he hurried toward Old Ternheim’s dilapidated house. The shutters were all closed, but the front door was wide open. Not even the crazy old man would be so careless.

Hannes crept up the rotten planks to the small porch, trying to listen for sounds from inside the house. But all he could hear was rain and the howling wind. Then he quietly slipped inside. Water had gotten into the hallway and formed a small puddle by the entrance. The door couldn’t have been open for long.

Hannes warily entered the narrow hallway. After the physical exertion, he struggled to calm down. Should he call for Mr. Ternheim? If the old man was alone, Hannes might frighten him to the point of having a heart attack. If he wasn’t alone, he would lose his stealthy advantage.

All indecision was cast aside when he heard noises from behind the door on the left. It sounded as though items were being overturned, and an excited voice shouted. Hannes rammed the door so hard he stumbled into the room. The storm let loose a massive roar of thunder. He could only see outlines but almost made out an upright silhouette half hidden by an oversized canvas. The person had his arms raised above his head and held an elongated object. Hannes shouted. But it was too late.

The ax whistled through the air toward Heinrich Ternheim, who was sitting in his chair. Ternheim tried to protect himself by holding up his walking stick. The attempt threw the ax off course, snapping the cane in two. The blade sliced through the tattered upholstery of the chair, while the blunt side hit Ternheim in the temple. He slumped to the side.

The attacker was so consumed by his deadly mission that he took no notice of Hannes. As the flashes of lightning were replaced by a deafening roar, the man pulled the ax from the back of the chair to attempt another blow.

“Stop!” Hannes yelled as he rushed forward.

The man turned, and the ax slipped out of his hands. He ran over to the giant canvas and hurled it at him. Hannes caught it and struggled to regain his footing. The attacker kicked one of his legs out from under him so he fell to the ground, covered by the monstrous image. With great difficulty, he crawled out from under the painting and saw an outstretched arm pointing a gun at Ternheim.

Hannes jumped up and walked into the line of fire. Wild thoughts flashed through his mind as he stared at the gun. What was he thinking? Was he going to lose his life for some ancient criminal? They stood motionless until the man curled his finger around the trigger. The gun trembled. He could not take his eyes off the barrel. Would this be the last thing he ever saw?

Hannes closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw a shadow disappear out the door. Ternheim gave a weak moan, and Hannes rushed over to the old painter.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as he felt Ternheim’s pulse—a feeble but stable beat. Then he realized his cell phone was in the car.

“The picture . . .” whispered the old man, “the picture shows the truth.”

Hannes placed his hand on Old Ternheim’s shoulder. “I’ll look at the picture later. I have to try to catch up to him. Close the door until I’m back!”

He ran from the room to the porch, where he saw a figure disappear into the woods. The rain had eased, and the thunder sounded distant. The worst seemed to be over.

The man was amazingly agile as he moved through the forest. Branches hit Hannes in the face. Ignoring his injuries, he darted through the woods, gaining ground. The intervals between flashes of lightning continued to grow, and with each illumination of the sky, he seemed to have gained another few feet. He had no idea where they were when the trees suddenly ended, and he recognized his old truck, still halfway in the ditch with its lights on. He had even left the windshield wipers running.

Then he saw the fugitive staggering by the lighthouse. The rain had gotten a little heavier, but in the fields, he could now see the man without much difficulty. The roar of the waves breaking against the cliff drowned out the distant rumbling of thunder. The lightning had moved to the horizon. Hannes shivered in his damp clothes.

He cautiously approached the old walls and circled halfway around the lighthouse. There he stood, at the edge of the cliff, looking out to sea. His back was slightly hunched and his shoulders rose and fell. Hannes also gasped for breath and had to place his hands on his knees to steady himself. Then he raised his head and looked over at the man. About thirty feet lay between them. The wind ruffled his hair.

“Sorry to screw up your grand finale!” Hannes shouted.

The man straightened and slowly turned to face him. Hannes looked into his eyes, which had become so familiar to him in recent days. Eyes that so uniquely reflected the inner life of this man. Eyes that could look amused, angry, thoughtful, compassionate, and melancholy—sometimes everything at once. Eyes which Hannes had looked up to. Now they were empty.

“When did you know it was me?” Fritz asked. His voice sounded tired.

“Really know? Only today. I suspected it yesterday, I just didn’t want to admit it! But too many things just fell into place. The brooch in your boat, the yellow paint scratches on your car, the green streaks on Ms. Ternheim’s car, and your painkillers, which were used to sedate the two Ternheims. Not to mention your behavior in recent days. Eventually I connected all the dots. After all, you were the one who taught me not to rule out any possibility. At first I laughed at the idea that you could be the murderer, until I found a picture of Maria Löwenstein this afternoon and remembered the photo of your mother in the office. When I learned that Mrs. Löwenstein gave birth to a son named Josef Fritz, all doubt vanished. Why did you do it?”

“Did I not tell you why in the letter? There are some that you can never forgive. What this monster did to my mother cannot be allowed to go unpunished. She was never herself again. Supposedly before her internment, she was a fun-loving and confident young woman. I never knew her like that. Only depressed, absent, angry, sad. She would burst into tears for what seemed like no reason in the middle of the city. Once, when a family friend gave me a pair of pajamas, she got upset because it reminded her of the blue-and-gray stripes on her prison clothes at the concentration camp. That’s why I also took photos of Ternheim’s beloved granddaughter Merle wearing pajamas like those.” Fritz had to take a short breath before continuing. “On one of my birthdays, my mother threw herself to the ground, kicking and screaming. Since that day, I became the leper at school, the kid with the crazy mother. On a summer day when I was nine years old, we went to the same beach where Helene Ternheim was found by her father. My mother couldn’t take it anymore. She simply walked into the sea and never came back.”

His voice was surprisingly firm. Hannes carefully took a step closer. Fritz raised his hand in warning. “Stay where you are! I have my gun in my jacket.”

“Is it true Heinrich Ternheim was your mother’s childhood sweetheart?” asked Hannes.

“Ah, so you’ve figured out who Mark von Wittenberg, or wittenberge, is,” Fritz said and nodded. “You know why I fought with Steffen when he assigned you to me? My plan was actually to work the case alone to control everything. Then suddenly you popped up. I knew I had to tighten my schedule because I couldn’t distract you forever with false leads.”

“You digress, Fritz,” said Hannes. “What about your mother and Ternheim?”

“Childhood sweetheart? Sandbox sweetheart is more like it! They were neighbors and practically grew up together. When Ternheim’s father became enamored with Nazi ideology, he forbade his son from hanging around ‘that Jewish bitch,’ as he called her. The two of them continued to meet in secret. There was even talk of running away to get married.” Fritz sneered. “But it didn’t work out that way.”