Time Heals No Wounds
ground in the next few minutes,” Elke said.
    And at that very moment—accompanied by “Oohs!” and “Ahs!”—the power came back on, and a sea of lights flashed below. The gondola jerked forward and floated slowly down toward the ground. As soon as they got off, they stormed the nearest restroom and gathered out front.
    “Where to now?” asked Kalle as Ben’s cell phone rang. He looked at the display and walked a few feet away. After a few minutes of heated conversation, he hung up and returned.
    “I have to go,” he said.
    “Now?” asked Ines. “You were pretty insistent that we go out for another drink. Did your girlfriend just rip into you?”
    “No, that was someone else. Something’s come up. Anyway, we’re still on for your birthday. Sorry, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Ben disappeared into the crowd.
    “There’s something fishy about him,” said Elke as they all watched him leave.
    “You got that right,” said Hannes.

M ONDAY N IGHT INTO T UESDAY M ORNING
    These dreams are a scourge. Like the ghosts of long-dead souls, they come and go as they please. They follow only their own rules. Rarely do they vary: their actions seem predetermined and immutable.
    Throughout the night, the rattling of the cattle-car wheels can be heard, and in the total darkness, this noise is the only warning of the impending descent into hell.
    Suddenly, the door of the car is quickly rolled open. The glaring light blinds the eyes, angry shouts ring out.
    “Come on, faster, faster, line up!” Unbearable cold pierces the body. The orders are obeyed by running. “Faster! Faster!”
    Cursing, insults, beatings, a mountain of clothes, an ocean of shorn hair. Nakedness, ice-cold water from pipes in the ceiling, more running, and more beatings and humiliations.
    Clothes striped blue and gray—at least no longer naked.
    Wooden shoes that make every step torture.
    A stab in the arm, cold—inside and out.
    Helpless, defenseless, joyless—hell on earth.

T UESDAY M ORNING
    When Fritz entered the office the next morning, Hannes had already been sitting at his desk for an hour. It didn’t look as though Fritz had had a particularly good night. He was pale and clearly still suffering from severe back pain.
    Fritz leaned against the door frame with a cup of coffee. “This really sucks! You know, I’ve put in so much overtime through all these years, and never once did I make a big deal about it. I worked weekends and holidays. So when I take some time off, I want to enjoy that time off! Steffen just lectured me about how I should always be on call and how we should have actually started the investigation the day before yesterday. As if it matters to the body whether we start sooner or later. If it’s really so urgent, he could have transferred the case to someone else!”
    “Lauer told me you’re the right person for the case since we have no clues,” Hannes said in an attempt to calm him down.
    “I’m honored,” Fritz said, then his mood suddenly brightened. “Come into my office, and we’ll try to figure something out.”
    Fritz plopped down in his leather swivel chair and stretched his legs. He was wearing his usual black jeans and blue polo shirt.
    “Any news from forensics? Is there actually a reason to suspect foul play, or are we getting worked up over nothing?”
    “Maria called me yesterday afternoon. It’s been confirmed that the cause of death was drowning. However, small abrasions were found on the woman’s wrists, maybe caused by a rope. When we pulled her out of the water, her hands weren’t tied. Maria also mentioned other abnormalities.”
    “Why didn’t you let me know? That’s important!” said Fritz.
    “Your cell phone was off, and your voice mail has not been activated.”
    “Fine. Did Maria specify the abnormalities?”
    “No, she suggested we come see her in person.”
    “I really hate how medical examiners always have to be so secretive. Did she say when we might honor her

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