Too Pretty For The Hills Read online

  She raised her head immediately. ''No-one’s putting that thing on me! I’ve told you all I know!''

  ''It’s okay, Dora, calm down.''

  ''Why aren’t you interrogating the people that survived and were there when the shooting occurred? You said four survived!''

  ''Have you been listening? The sheriff and Agent Tomic are in a coma, and the Ziegler woman and the deputy are useless. They say it all happened in a flash and they barely had time to draw their guns before leaping for cover.''

  Nicolaus tried holding her cold hand but she moved it away.

  ''Was there anyone that you took special notice of during your stay? Anyone maybe acting strange?''

  ''Strange?'' she moaned. ''I don’t know what strange is any more ... I need to use the bathroom.''

  ''Maybe someone saying something funny. Or acting in a peculiar way?''

  She was starting to get angry again.

  ''I don’t know, OK? I said I need to use the bathroom!''

  ''Second door to the right. But just know you’re literally throwing yourself into harm’s way if you decide to run again.''

  ''I have no intention of going anywhere,’’ Dora lied.

  ''OK. I’ll try to find you some dry clothes so you can get out of that ridiculous outfit.''

  Stepping into the bathroom, she closed the door, walked over to the sink and turned on the water. She put her hands under the stream and leaned her buzzing head against the mirror. She almost missed being drugged now.

  Trying to clear her mind and pull herself together, she stepped over to the window, opened it, and climbed out onto the ledge. Staring into the dark forest, she listened but heard nothing — no owls or insects chirping, no dogs or foxes. Just silence. There was something very unnatural about it all — or did it just seem that way because she was starting to believe those men and their lie-detector?

  She went back inside, frustrated at her indecision. With the water still whirring in the sink, she changed into the dry unisex clothes she’d been given and leaned against the wall.

  ''Dora?''

  The door creaked and Nicolaus peeked in.

  ''Can’t I have a moment’s peace, for fuck’s sake?''

  ''I’m sorry,’’ he said, pushing the door open and stepping inside. ''We were just told over the radio there may have been another kidnapping. We think you might know the woman.''

  ''What are you talking about?''

  ''You called a friend earlier today, didn’t you? One Katja Emner?''

  Dora froze, unable to speak.

  ''They found an abandoned car up in the woods. They ran the plates. For the moment there’s no sign of her anywhere.''

  ''This is my fault,’’ Dora gasped. Her ears started ringing.

  ''It’s not your fault.''

  ''It’s my fault, and now she’s dead.''

  ''We don’t know that.''

  ''I want to go there. I want to go help look for her.''

  ''That’s the single worst thing you could do right now.''

  ''I need to help her.''

  ''No, you need to stay here.''

  Nicolaus walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

  ''Why couldn’t she just call the police? Why did she have to come herself?''

  ''Well ... Maybe she did call. But then no-one acted on it for obvious reasons.''

  ''Oh, God ...''

  Nicolaus was about to say something vacuously reassuring when Dora suddenly pried herself away and snatched his gun from its holster.

  ''Okay, give it back, Dora. That’s not a toy.''

  ''She needs me! You’ll take me there right now, or I swear to God, I’ll ...''

  ''You’ll what? Shoot me? Come on, stop fooling around.''

  She fired a shot into the ceiling, and a few chunks of crumbling plaster fell to the floor, narrowly missing her head.

  In an instant, the two other agents appeared, one by the door and the other leaning in through the bathroom window, their weapons drawn.

  ''Listen to me, Dora!'' Nicolaus said. ''There is absolutely nothing you can do out there that our agents won’t be able to! If anything you’ll just get in everybody’s way and put your own life at risk! What good will it do your friend if you get yourself killed?''

  ''She’s the one who’s going to be killed!'' Dora objected, tears running down her cheeks.

  ''We don’t know that! For now all your friend is, is missing. We’re not even sure that she was actually abducted.'' He was an atrocious liar, and Dora didn’t need the polygraph to see it. ''Plus there is always the possibility of this being a trap. Have you thought about that? The killer knowing you’ll come to your friend’s aid? Maybe he’s just waiting out there somewhere, hoping you’ll be that reckless!''

  The gun in her hand was getting heavy.

  ''Dora, give me back my gun. You know I’m right, I know you do. You’re a smart girl. Just give it back, nice and easy ... That’s it.''

  He carefully nudged the barrel to one side before gently prying the gun out of her hands and sliding it back into its holster. His fellow agents followed suit.

  ''I’ll make us some pancakes. You probably haven’t eaten anything today yet,'' Nicolaus said quietly. ''You just take it easy in here and then join us in the other room when you’re ready. And don’t worry. We’ll find your friend, I’m sure of it.''

  27

  At just after one in the morning, Dora sat down to dinner, early breakfast or whatever the exact classification of this morbid pancake meal was. Each bite of dough and marmelade turned sour the moment it hit her tastebuds. She replied to each of the agents’ attempts to induce conversation with silence. It took her an hour to eat one and a half pancakes.

  ''You have to eat,’’ Nicolaus said. ‘‘You need strength.''

  ''It doesn’t take much strength to get kidnapped and killed.''

  ''Don’t talk like that. As long as I’m around, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you. I won’t let it.''

  A large mobile phone positioned next to the marmelade jar started ringing and for the first time since sitting down, Dora shook off her reverie. She looked on with rapt attention as Nicolaus answered.

  ''Yes ... Really? Shit ... Do you want me to ... Shit. Yes I do ... Understood ... No, she hadn’t ... No, I’m positive … Yes.'' He hung up and looked at Dora.

  ''Who was that?'' she stuttered, fearing the worst.

  ''Mallek. They want us to stay put for now. No sign of your friend yet,'' he added. ''It’s a real madhouse down there. The townspeople have come out of their houses and are now protesting in the streets. Apparently there’s a lot of looting going on.''

  ''No wonder,'' one of the two other agents said. ''By now probably everyone thinks Dora’s been taken.''

  She pushed her plate aside, having lost every shred of her appetite. She sobbed quietly and put her tired head into the folds of the soft fabric of the borrowed pullover. For once she didn’t pull away as she felt Nicolaus’ hand caress the back of her head.

  The agents talked quietly among themselves, but she wasn’t listening. As desperately as she was trying to maintain at least a spark of optimism, the images of the victims she’d been shown kept forcing their way into her mind.

  28

  ''What’s going on?''

  The bright light had suddenly come on, making Dora jump. She realized she must have dozed off and been carried to the moth-eaten sofa in the living room.

  ''Orders came,’’ Nicolaus said. ''We’re moving. Come on, I’ll help you.''

  She yawned and slowly stood up, a wind breaker draped over her, and Nicolaus ushered her into the adjoining room.

  ''Where are we going?''

  Upon entering, she discovered they’d been joined by two more people: another man, and a woman Dora recognized.

  ''Rike?''

  The ginger-haired woman nodded, silently took Dora’s arm, and escorted her out of the house. It was still dark outside but there was a hint of grey and purple visible on the black c
anvas of the night sky. It would soon be dawn.

  ''It’s Agent Maxer actually. But you can call me Rike if you like,'' she said trying to force a reassuring smile.

  ''So you’re with them too?''

  ''Sorry for spooking you yesterday, but we didn’t have much of a choice ...''

  ''Where are you taking me?''

  ''To a more secure location. Come, this way.''

  ''Hey! She’s riding with me!'' Nicolaus protested.

  ''Our car has got better plating. It’ll be safer than the Taiga.''

  ''Fine, then I’m coming with you,’’ he pouted. ''The last time I let her out of my sight, she nearly got killed.''

  Dora climbed into the back of a dark SUV that looked a decade older than its cousin, parked a few meters away. Nicolaus followed and Rike sat behind the wheel while another agent took the front passenger’s seat.

  ''We all set?''

  The engine came roaring on and they started off down the dirt road, following the lead car.

  ''There’s been a breakthrough,'' Rike said. ''The sheriff. We weren’t holding out much hope after his heart stopped. But about fifteen minutes ago, the doctor called and said he’d woken up briefly. And apparently he saw who the shooter was.''

  Dora’s heart skipped a beat.

  ''It was Ernst Waumer,'' Nicolaus butted in, not wanting to let one of his fellow agents steal the spotlight in a dramatic moment. ''He’s the local vicar.''

  ''Oh my god, I met him!'' Dora gasped. ''The day I arrived in Graufirst! I was over at the church with the dog and he was sitting on the front steps eating a sandwich. And he somehow knew. Oh my God, he knew!''

  ''Knew what?''

  ''My name! And then he said I’d told him myself when I clearly hadn’t. I knew there was something strange about him, but with everything else that’s gone on around here lately, I forgot all about it.'' She paused for a moment. ''So what happens now?''

  Rike shrugged. ''All I know is they’re about to ambush him at his house.''

  ''Well I hope they kill the son of a bitch,'' Dora seethed.

  ''That’s not the usual protocol, although in this case I wouldn’t mind if we made an exception.''

  ''That’s why we’re relocating you,'' Nicolaus added. ''Mallek must have felt you’d be safer down at the base.''

  ''Not likely,'' the agent in the front piped up. ''If we’re really onto the guy, they’ll be mobilizing everyone.''

  By the time they reached the populated area at the bottom of the wooded hill, the gloom of the night had lifted still further. The other SUV had apparently turned off somewhere and was nowhere to be seen.

  There was evidence of looting everywhere - broken windows, smashed cars, garbage scattered all over the street, mangled mailboxes, and fresh grafitti on some of the nicer houses.

  This was a part of Graufirst that Dora hadn’t seen before, a neighborhood with yards full of grape vines.

  The house being used as a makeshift headquarters for the investigation had a particularly lush vine climbing along its yellow facade.

  The air was cold as they exited, the weak orange light of the morning dawn glistening on the dew. The three undercover agents walked with Dora towards the porch, their eyes scanning the seemingly placid neighborhood. There were no signs of looting on this lot.

  Just as they were about to reach the door, it opened and the tall woman with the long slim face and curly dark hair whom Dora knew as Erica Ziegler came rushing out without a trace of the sophisticated air she’d exuded two days before. She sized Dora up for a few moments, then pulled Nicolaus aside and whispered something in his ear. He looked at her with a dull expression, then finally nodded. Erica’s hand gently reached for Dora’s lower back.

  ''Come, dear,'' she said.

  ''What did you just tell him?'' Dora demanded.

  ''Don’t be difficult,'' Nicolaus muttered. ''Just go inside.''

  ''No!'' Dora snapped at him. ''What did she say? Tell me!''

  Her voice echoed through the sleepy neighbourhood.

  ''Tell me!''

  ''They found her,'' Erica finally relented. ''Katja Emner’s body was found hidden in the church, in a locker in the vicar’s chambers. He wasn’t there, though. They’re still looking for him. I’m sorry, Dora.''

  Dora stared at Erica, her mouth open.

  ''Was she raped?'' she gasped, her throat tightening.

  ''No, no sign of sexual assault, at least at first blush, and she was fully dressed. He apparently didn’t yet have time to ...''

  Dora felt like there was an elephant sitting on her chest.

  ''Get her inside, Erica. Now!''

  ''Come on, Dora. It’s going to be okay ...''

  As they were ushering her to the door, she suddenly spun out of their hands and ran back to the SUV. The keys were still in the ignition. The agents ran after her and Rike tried to grab her, barely missing having the car door slammed on her hand.

  Dora immediately turned the key and put it in reverse, backing out into the alley. Nicolaus attempted to hold onto the car, but the force of the sudden stop made him fly off.

  The remaining lawmen were running towards her from across the street, waving their arms. But Dora sped off.

  ''Katja, don’t do this to me! You’re not dead, you can’t be!''

  She felt a bump. Had she run over a dog? She rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked up to see what appeared to be a watermelon in the rearview mirror.

  ''Katja! Katja!''

  A few streets over she ran into several groups of protesters. They were holding pitchforks, shovels and torches, most of which were no longer burning. It took Dora a few moments to realize that these ‘Gypsies’ were actually cheering for her when they recognized her as she roared past. For a moment she even though she saw her erstwhile neighbor, the old woman.

  Completely disoriented, Dora passed a house whose front bushes were on fire.

  ''Katja! I’m sorry!’’ she wailed aloud. ‘‘I’m so, so sorry!''

  All of a sudden she noticed in the rear view mirror a grey car that was slowly closing in. It appeared poised to overtake her, but then the unimaginable happened.

  One of the bystanders, seeing that she was being followed, jumped into the road in front of the pursuing car and got hit straight-on, flying into the air like a rag doll. He bounced off the windshield, cracking it and leaving a bloody imprint of his head before being thrown over the roof and onto the road. But the driver of the grey car never swerved or touched the break.

  Finally, whoever was chasing Dora caught up with her and rear-ended the SUV. She screamed and made a sharp left, barely making it into a narrow section between two houses. The other car rushed past, missing the turn and slamming on the breaks.

  It looked as if Dora’s escape was assured, but the little passage was only just wide enough for the massive SUV to squeeze through, and it slowed her down considerably.

  Sure enough, just then, the other vehicle, small enough to drive between the houses with ease, approached from behind and followed her into the narrow alley. She could see that the driver was wearing a mask, a clown’s face. This was no cop, not by a long shot. She let out a cry.

  After a few seconds that seemed like hours, she reached the end of the narrow passage. There she turned right and roared down the street, the mechanical beast finally unchained, her pursuer right behind her.

  Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, she noticed that, whereas the town had been overrun with undercover agents the day before, now there were no people to be seen anywhere.

  The other driver managed to catch up with her and for a moment they were driving side by side. Then he slammed his vehicle into her, forcing her off the road and into a spin, the smell of burning rubber filling the car.

  After demolishing someone’s garden fence, Dora finally regained control of the SUV and drove across the lawns that lined the street, dirt spraying into the air behind her.

  It took her a while to realise that the grey car was suddenly no
where to be seen. It had simply vanished. She slowed down, straining her neck to see if she could spot it anywhere, but there was no sign of it in any direction.

  She came to a complete stop, her hands still shaking the steering wheel, and a though crossed her mind: this was a law enforcement vehicle. She quickly reached over and opened up the glove compartment. Sure enough, there was a revolver inside. Dora grabbed it and got out of the car, the gun aimed at the end of the street behind her.

  No-one was there.

  ''Show yourself,'' she hissed, waiting for the clown to reappear. ''Show yourself, I dare you.''

  A noise came from the side and made her wince, but it was just a couple of crows, sitting atop one of the roofs. No agents, no townspeople, no killers, no nothing. Only crows.

  She glimpsed the church’s belltower in the distance and remembered why it was that she had run off in the first place. This was faith, she concluded. Faith had brought her here.

  She ran back to the car, put the gun on the passenger’s seat beside her, and drove off in the direction of the church.

  Arriving at the poplar park, she stormed out of the car, leaving the engine on. Once again the gate in the big iron fence had been left wide open.

  She wanted the vicar to be here. She wanted to put the gun up to his head and watch the bullet blast the life right out of him.

  Just as the big yellow chapel was coming into view, a hand grabbed her from out of nowhere.

  ''Get the gun! Get the gun!''

  ''What the fuck’s she doing here?''

  ''Hey! Miss Dora!''

  ''Stop thrashing around! Calm down already!''

  Suddenly another, more familiar voice spoke. ''Dora, look at me!'' It was the fast-chewing man with the glasses and the buzz cut, Detective Mallek. For a moment Dora was too panicked to recognize him. ''How’d you get here?''

  Then she noticed some men carrying a body bag out of the church.

  ''I need to see her! Please, I need to!''

  ''No you don’t. Not like that.''

  Mallek kept asking her questions, but she couldn’t hear him. She collapsed into the arms of one of the agents and wept uncontrollably, pressing her head against his chest.