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goddamn thing to spend your life thinking about.
    Don’t they know they would be better off pondering whether a man like me can exist when he’s never been truly seen?

CHAPTER 9
    HAUPTKOMMISSAR HANS DIETRICH was a living legend inside Berlin Kripo, an investigator with low-key, unorthodox tactics that nevertheless resulted in the
     highest solve rate of any detective in the department’s eight divisions.
    The high commissar was a tall crane of a man, early fifties, quiet, moody, and extremely private, rarely fraternizing with
     other cops. He was even said to resent the fact that he had to work with a second detective on homicide cases.
    Mattie had heard about Dietrich during her many years with Berlin Kripo, of course, but she’d never had the chance to work
     with him directly.
    Still, an hour after their initial call to Kripo she was more than relieved when she saw him walking toward her beneath a
     black umbrella in a gray suit, his somber face revealing nothing.
    If anyone could find out what had happened to Chris, it was this man.
    Mattie and Burkhart moved around the uniformed officer now guarding the front of the slaughterhouse and went to meet Dietrich.
     They showed him their Private badges and identified themselves.
    “I know who you are, Frau Engel,” Dietrich said, his eyes flickering toward the abattoir. “Your reputation precedes you.”
    Mattie felt Burkhart looking at her, puzzled. Her cheeks started to burn.
    A blue Kripo bus appeared, splashing toward the slaughterhouse.
    Mattie knew what that meant. Every time a body is found in Berlin, Kripo sends out one of these specially equipped buses.
     They contain all the equipment and supplies needed to fully document a murder scene.
    Seeing the bus, Mattie became angry. “With all due respect, High Commissar, we don’t know that this is a homicide yet. Someone
     could have taken Chris, discovered the chip, then cut it out of him so we couldn’t find him.”
    Dietrich blinked, took his attention off the slaughterhouse, and replied in a chilly tone, “That’s what I am here to find—”
    “High Commissar!” came a woman’s shrill voice.
    Dietrich grimaced and looked over his shoulder at the stout little woman in her midtwenties marching earnestly up the driveway
     toward them. He sighed heavily. “Inspector Sandra Weigel. My trainee.”
    Inspector Weigel beamed at Mattie and Burkhart as they introduced themselves before turning to Dietrich. “What shall I do,
     High Commissar?” Weigel asked.
    “Stay out of my way and listen,” Dietrich growled at her. Then he looked back at Mattie and Burkhart. “Now, take me inside,
     show me where you found the chip, and tell me everything I need to know.”

CHAPTER 10
    AS THEY DONNED blue surgical booties and latex gloves under an awning that had been set up outside the slaughterhouse, Mattie and Burkhart
     brought Dietrich up to speed on Chris Schneider’s cases and activities during the prior two weeks, finishing with the decision
     to activate the GPS chip and its discovery in the main hall of the slaughterhouse two hours before.
    Inspector Weigel took copious notes. Dietrich took none. He just stood there, listening intently, expressionless. He asked
     only one question. “No footprints?”
    Burkhart shook his head. “None, but the dust in there is rippled. Like someone used one of those blowers that gardeners use
     to erase all tracks.”
    Mattie frowned. Burkhart had not mentioned that before.
    Dietrich gave Burkhart a glance of reappraisal, and then went inside the slaughterhouse. The hallway was lit now with klieg
     lights. The high commissar walked toward the main slaughterhouse slowly, methodically, his eyes going everywhere, saying nothing.
    Mattie said, “The room where we found the chip—it’s big. Private could bring in its forensics team to help. We have state
     and federal certification.”
    Dietrich shook his head and continued on with his inspection as if the idea were completely