57

“Mommy, what are you doing?”

Marion Munch looked across to her mother, who was sitting on the sofa by the window. Miriam had been told to keep the curtain closed at all times, but she could not take the isolation any longer. She had to sneak a peek, reassure herself that the world outside existed.

“I’m just having a look, darling. Why are you not in bed?”

Marion padded over to her mother and snuggled up on her lap. “I can’t sleep.”

“You need your sleep, you know,” Miriam Munch said, stroking her daughter’s hair.

“I know, but surely I can’t sleep unless I’m asleep?” the little girl said, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s called falling asleep for a reason, darling,” Miriam said with a little smile.

Her daughter had become rather precocious and argumentative recently. Miriam had been given a reminder of what she’d been like when she was little. Stubborn and headstrong. Old for her age. She sighed and closed the curtains again. She had blocked out much of her childhood. After her parents split up, part of it seemed to have disappeared as if it had all been built on a lie. Her parents were divorcing. She remembered being fifteen and starting to have her doubts about them. She thought that they must have been lying to her for a long time. But that was all in the past now. She’d been angry. Very angry. Mostly at her father. Holger Munch, the homicide investigator. For years she’d been proud of him. My dad is a police officer. He’ll put your dad in prison if he does something bad. But he had hurt her. He had pushed her mother into the arms of another man. A man Miriam had never really learned to like. She was older now, but it still gnawed at her. They’d been so close, the two of them. She and her father. She should have resolved it a long time ago. Gone to him and said, Sorry, Dad, I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time, but she’d been unable to. Stubborn and headstrong. She was starting to feel that the time had come. Soon. Soon she would talk to him.

“Yes, but then you have to tell me to, Mom.”

“Okay, Marion, go to your bedroom and fall asleep. Can you do that?”

“But it’s so hard,” the little blond girl objected. “I keep thinking about Draculaura and Frankie Stein. They’re home alone.”

The dolls her grandfather had bought Marion recently.

“Oh, they’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?” Marion asked.

“I spoke to your daddy just now, and he said that they were both fine. He says they send their love.”

Marion looked sly. “I think you’re lying, Mom.”

“Me, lying? No, why do you say that?” Miriam smiled.

“Dolls can’t talk.”

“They talk when you play with them.”

“Oh, Mom, that’s my voice, didn’t you know?”

“Is it?” Miriam said, feigning surprise. “Your voice? I thought they could talk.”

Marion giggled. “Sometimes it’s very easy to trick you, Mommy.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you trick me a lot?”

“Yes, I guess I do.”

Marion reached for the blanket lying on the sofa and covered herself with it. She rested her head against her mother’s chest. Miriam could feel her daughter’s little heartbeat against her sweater.

“So when do you trick your mom?”

“When I say that I’ve cleaned my teeth.”

“But you haven’t cleaned them?”

“Yes, but not very well.”

“So when I ask you, did you brush your teeth properly, then you haven’t?”

“No.” The little girl giggled again.

“Then how did you clean them?”

“Quite well, sort of.”

Miriam smiled again and stroked her daughter’s hair.

Marion rubbed her face against her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. Her thumb was inching its way toward her mouth, but she stopped herself and returned it to her tummy. Good girl. They’d spent ages trying to make her stop sucking her thumb. It hadn’t been easy. But now it looked as though she was succeeding. Miriam tucked the blanket close around her daughter and held her tight.

“Mom?”

“I thought you were falling asleep?”

“I can’t fall asleep when I’m talking,” Marion said, precocious once more.

Miriam laughed. “No, obviously not.”

It was a mistake, no doubt about it. Laughing. Reacting would merely encourage her, but Miriam couldn’t help it. To be honest, she liked her daughter being awake. The apartment was silent and empty when she slept.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“Why isn’t Daddy here?”

Miriam didn’t quite know what to say. For security reasons Johannes didn’t know where they were. If the killer was capable of hanging little girls from trees, he or she would also be able to extract from him where they were hiding. She thought of her fiancé and felt warm all over. Her father had been adamant: the wedding must be canceled. And even though she had argued her hardest, she complied in the end. Her feelings said no, but her common sense knew better. They couldn’t fill a church with family and friends right now. It would be irresponsible. No one would benefit. Not now that Marion was number five.

Tick-tock, little Marion is number five.

Her father had been incredibly angry with Mia, but Miriam was grateful for knowing. Better to know what they were talking about than to live in ignorance.

“Why don’t you say something, Mom?”

“Daddy is at work, but he loves you very much, he told me to tell you that.”

The little girl threw aside the blanket and got up. “I think I’m ready to go to bed now.”

“That sounds good, Marion. Would you like me to walk you upstairs?”

“I’m not a baby anymore.” Marion yawned. “I know perfectly well where it is.”

Miriam smiled. “Clever girl. Give your mom a good-night hug, then.”

The little girl bent down and gave her mother a long hug.

Her daughter skipped across the floor in her nightdress and up the stairs. Miriam got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She heard her cell phone beep and ran back to check who it was.

Sorry, Miriam, but we have to move you again tonight. Something has happened, will explain later. Am sending someone to get you now. OK? M.

Damn—now? Marion had only just gone back to bed. Oh, well. Her daughter was still light enough to be carried. Something had happened. What could it be? She replied:

OK.

She went out into the hallway and found the suitcase. She hadn’t packed much. A few changes of clothing for both of them. Toiletries. The bare essentials. It took only ten minutes to pack everything. She brought the mug of tea with her from the kitchen and sat down on the sofa again. She wondered where they were going this time. The first apartment had been small, no television, just one room, something that had driven her a little crazy, claustrophobic. This one was much bigger and furnished luxuriously. She believed it was used for visiting VIPs who didn’t want to be seen. Very anonymous. Perfect for keeping nosy journalists at bay. Like her. Was that why she had dropped out of journalism school? Because being a journalist wasn’t good enough? Because she would rather do something more useful? Help people? No, that wasn’t it. There was nothing wrong with being a journalist; she didn’t know where that idea had come from. There were different kinds of journalists, just as there were different kinds of teachers and police officers. Some journalists wrote about celebrities. Others uncovered injustices. That was the kind of journalist Miriam had wanted to be. Fight for something. Use her brain to enlighten people, rather than dull their minds with lists of who was best dressed and what celebrities ate for Christmas.

She’d just finished her tea when the doorbell rang. Miriam jumped up and pressed the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you ready?”

“I’m ready, just come up.”

She pressed the buzzer and put on her shoes. Went to the suitcase in the hallway and put on her jacket. She hoped that Marion wouldn’t wake up during the car journey. She would be crotchety, and perhaps she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep again.

There was a soft knock on the door. No doorbell. What a considerate police officer, Miriam thought, for being aware that a child was asleep here. She went to open the door. There was someone outside. Wearing a kind of mask. And a wig. She had no time to react. The figure pressed a cloth into her face. She heard the words:

“Night-night.”

And she was out cold.