“And he was there until they found him four days later,” Sandra added in a low voice.

“Four days. After suffering horribly for the final hours of his life. Stuck with a cracked skull and difficulty breathing, smashed to pieces and frozen. I wish that it had at least been quick.”

Kerstin’s voice failed, and Sandra heard her crying. She thought it was good for her and badly needed, and hoped that her own presence on the line was of some comfort. But there was something strange about this story, it occurred to her—she was just unable to form the thought clearly.

“I’m sorry,” said Kerstin, swallowing. “I don’t want to saddle someone else with this. You.”

“But that’s why I’m here,” said Sandra softly. “You can cry. I’m here holding your hand, if you see what I mean.”

“Thank you,” said Kerstin. “And sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Sandra insisted. “I understand how you feel and I’m suffering with you, if that’s of any comfort.”

“Thank you,” said Kerstin again, and Sandra heard her putting her hand over the phone to blow her nose in the background.

“Did they catch him?” Sandra asked. “The hit-and-run driver?”

“The police wrote it off as an accident only involving one car. And after such a long time, there was nothing to suggest otherwise.”

“But . . . Where have you . . .? How do you know that it’s a hit-and-run? That he was forced off the road by someone who didn’t swerve, who saw him fly into the abyss and left him to die?”

After a few seconds’ contemplation, Kerstin replied in a low, heavy-hearted voice, “There’s photographic evidence.”

She spoke doubtfully, with a brief pause after each word, as if she might at any moment change her mind and take the words back. But she didn’t. Instead, she repeated them, more clearly and with greater emphasis this time.

“There was photographic evidence, you see, Sandra. That I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

“But then there must have been every opportunity for the police to catch the other driver,” Sandra replied.

She was becoming more and more concerned by this story.

“You make it sound so uncomplicated,” said Kerstin. “But things rarely are. I have to go.”

And then the receiver went silent, and Kerstin was gone.

Sandra stayed on the sofa with her gaze fixed on something in a dimension far beyond the black TV screen. Why didn’t you share any evidence with the police, was what she wanted to ask. And where did the photos come from?

There were so many things about this accident that were unclear, and she really wanted to help somehow. Help Kerstin to set her feelings straight about all of this, encourage her to share what she knew so that she received legal redress and could finally have peace of mind.

She handled the subsequent calls that evening feeling preoccupied, but she did what she could to ensure it didn’t show.

14

Jeanette

“NOT BLOODY LIKELY,” said Jeanette, rejecting Lubbi’s offer to sit down with her on the bench.