Continuing to go through the motions of normal life was taking a toll on Sabine. It had been several days since she’d been summoned by Kriminalkommissar Becker, but his cruel, unpitying stare still followed her wherever she went. She jumped at every noise, fearing it was him or his henchmen, coming for her again.
Becoming friendly with Frau Klausen proved harder than imagined. For one thing, Sabine wasn’t a social butterfly and didn’t have much experience warming up to people. That had always been Werner’s job. And while Frau Klausen was kind and warm-hearted, she never once talked about anything personal, except for tales about her children from years ago.
The restraint in the older woman’s behavior left Sabine wondering if they would ever become the sort of friends the Reich hoped for.
Sunday morning arrived, and Sabine used her only day off to clean the small house. She was mopping the kitchen floor when a sharp knock came on the front door. Whoever can this be? She put water bucket and mop aside and wiped her hands on her apron before she opened the door.
And wished she hadn’t.
Kriminalkommissar Becker stood in front of her, wearing what seemed his best Sunday suit. He raised his hat and asked, “Don’t you want to invite me in?”
“Of course, please step inside,” she said with a trembling voice, racking her brain about what he might want. Wasn’t she supposed to report back to Lily? Not that she had done it, but there hadn’t been anything newsworthy to report either.
“I’ve been patiently waiting for news, but now my patience is coming to an end,” he said, stretching out on Werner’s place on the couch as if he owned it.
Sabine fought the lump closing her throat and said, “I’ve tried to become friendly with Frau Klausen, just as you told me to. But so far she hasn’t said anything remotely compromising.”
“We know she works for the enemies of the Reich.” Herr Becker glanced around, stopping at the framed wedding photograph of Sabine and Werner. He walked across the room and took the picture into his hands. “Such a beautiful couple. It would be a shame if you had to put a mourning edge around it.”
Sabine almost collapsed from a heart attack the moment the macabre words left his thin lips, but Becker ignored her predicament. “I believe you’ll have to try a lot harder.” His finger caressed Werner’s face on the photograph.
“If…if you already know Frau Klausen is part of the resistance, why don’t you just arrest her?” she stammered.
“I told you before, and I will tell you again, Frau Mahler.” He put the framed image back onto the chest of drawers and walked over to stand in front of Sabine. His nearness sped up her heartbeat. “Frau Klausen is a minnow. We want the heads of the organization. And you will lead us to them.” His finger caressed her cheek the same way it had caressed her husband’s picture, and Becker muttered, “Such a lovely couple…a real shame.”
The icy grip of terror squeezing the air from her lungs, Sabine barely managed to keep upright, saying, “But how?”
“You should be grateful to have me thinking for you,” Becker said, giving her a very smug grin, “because I have the perfect plan. You are going to move in with Frau Klausen and her daughter Ursula.”
“Me? I’m going to move in with them?” Sabine couldn’t believe her own ears. This man couldn’t be serious about her moving in with random strangers.
“Yes. We need to speed things up.” He licked his lips, enjoying this brilliant idea of his.
“But…I have a home of my own. Why would I move in with someone else? That doesn’t make sense. And why would Frau Klausen even agree to this?” Sabine voiced the myriad of questions running around in her head.
“See, this is where I come into the picture. We’ll visit the office for housing assignments and tell them your house was bombed, and thanks to my connections you’ll be immediately assigned new housing.”
Sabine shivered at the evil plan. “But…it would be…next to impossible that they would assign me to Frau Klausen and not to someplace else.”
“You leave that part to me. My people can make just about anything happen in this country.”
She didn’t have the slightest doubt that he spoke the truth. No agency in Germany had more power than the Gestapo. If Becker wanted her to live with the Klausens, it would be one of his easiest tasks to arrange.
“So, how do you like my fantastic plan?” he asked, genuine joy visible in his face.
How could this sadistic monster be so…narcissistic? Didn’t he have a modicum of feeling for his fellow humans? Actually, she already knew the answer and said, “It’s a devious plan. I would never have been able to come up with this.” Then a doubt entered her mind and she spoke aloud, “What if anyone finds out my house didn’t really get bombed?”
Becker tilted his head to the side, a flash of sorrow at the shortcoming in his plan crossing his face. But it took only a few moments before he smiled again. “You truly are intelligent. You’ll be an asset to us. Trust me, nobody will find out. You have one hour to pack what you wish to keep.”
“One hour?” Sabine repeated, like she was soft in the head, still trying to process everything he’d said.
“I would suggest you don’t waste a minute of it. And now please excuse me, I have things to arrange.” Becker walked to the door and let himself out. Sabine followed him as if in a trance and leaned her back against the locked door.
Taking in the familiar sights of her small home, a shudder ran through her body when the realization hit her that in a few short minutes, she’d be leaving this place behind, perhaps forever.
She rushed through the house, gathering her clothes and shoes, folding everything into the only suitcase she possessed. Then she scoured the rooms for the things that meant the most to Werner and herself. The framed wedding picture. Check. The photo album from her childhood years. Love letters Werner had written to her. The silver necklace he’d given her for her birthday. The pipe she’d given him and that he enjoyed smoking so much. Check, check, check. Everything else would have to stay.
The chest of drawers they’d bought with his first paycheck after their marriage. Her grandmother’s antique long-case clock. The crockery that was a wedding gift from Werner’s parents. The monogrammed silverware.
She snuck two single spoons into the suitcase and closed it with tears in her eyes. The one-hour window drew to a close, and she found herself sitting atop the crammed suitcase and dreading Becker’s return.