Helen watched her son as he walked down the hall. Excited voices came from downstairs. Jackie and Floris were already here and had brought a stack of horror movies with them. The oven was on, and the smell of pizza filled the house.

The kids made everything sound so simple, so carefree. It had all been so simple to her too when she was that age. The whole world lay in front of you; everything was still possible.

And now?

Things only got more and more complicated.

She took a deep breath and hung the rejected outfits back in the closet. For the kids, life not only seemed easy—it was easy. Everything had carried on the same way for the children precisely because she and Werner had chosen to solve this problem together. Werner’s decision meant they hadn’t been exposed to the media, the courts, or the judgment of their classmates, teachers, neighbors, and strangers at the supermarket. And even more important, not to fathers, uncles, brothers, nephews, or short-tempered friends out for revenge.

She had to hand it to Werner—he’d been right after all.

14

14

On the big flat-screen TV, a girl walked through a dark forest. The camera switched to a lower angle and began to creep toward her. Music swelled, grew louder, sped up. The girl looked around fearfully.

“I can’t watch,” squeaked Naomi, grabbing hold of him.

She was no longer angry; Ralf had told her that he’d forgotten about an appointment for his course, and she’d believed him.

He felt her breath against his belly. Her long, smooth hair fell over his lap. He looked down. His breath caught, and he immediately turned his face away.

Don’t think about it.

According to the clock on the mantel, it was ten thirty. Sara and Floris had gone upstairs at the start of the evening. Jackie and her boyfriend were just coming back down. And now it was his turn to make a move.

He leaned forward. Whispered, “Should we . . . ?”

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering, and the corners of her mouth curled upward.

He held her hand and led her up the stairs. With each step, he felt the tension ratchet up. Brian had been here eight days ago. Coked-up and still in one piece, he had followed Werner Möhring up this very staircase. Ralf looked around curiously, warily. They reached a large square hallway with a high ceiling. There was a chandelier hanging from it. To the right was a long, narrow corridor lined with doors on either side, and another at the end.

Naomi’s slim hands found their way underneath his T-shirt. Her fingertips caressed his belly, explored his back. His body responded automatically, but his mind was elsewhere. He stared down the long hallway, illuminated here and there with wall lamps. The second door on the left was ajar.

“That’s Sara’s room,” whispered Naomi.