“No, southern England. Sussex, I think it’s called. On the coast. My parents went there on their first vacation, back when they met.” Her eyes glazed over, and her voice sounded dull. “It was Dad’s idea. A present. Mom sent us photos of the hotel this morning. Super fancy. Wait . . .” She pushed a strand of hair from her face and took out her phone. “He just sent me a message.” She read it out loud. “‘Your mother has lost her phone. If you need us, use this number.’”

“Lost her phone,” repeated Ralf.

Sara leapt up from the bed. “We need to go to the police.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know. If all this is true, they need to stop my father.”

“What will you tell them? That your mother shot somebody? That I helped Brian with a robbery that turned out to be a contract killing?” He had raised his voice. “And anyway, do you really think they’ll jump into a helicopter and fly over to England? No way. First they’ll do some paperwork, open an investigation, in their own good time. Get in touch with their colleagues—”

“That would lose us a few days.”

“Everything OK up there?” The male voice calling from downstairs had an unmistakable German accent.

Sara put her finger to her lips and walked over to the door. Opened it a crack. “Yes, Grandpa,” she called. She sounded like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Ralf is just about to head home.”

She closed the door and turned to face him. “We have to do something, don’t we?” she whispered. “If this is true—” She shook her head in disbelief. “Please tell me I’m dreaming this, Ralf.”

He looked at her with a strained expression. “I’m afraid—”

Sara’s phone started to buzz. She started so violently that she almost dropped it. Looked at the screen. “My parents.”

Ralf looked over her shoulder at the photo that Werner had sent. Helen Möhring was sitting in a dark-red leather armchair and smiling as she lifted up a cup of tea. Next to her stood a stand laden with tiny cakes.

This is your mother. Dad and I are putting on weight! Tonight we’re eating at a fancy restaurant that belongs to the hotel Everything OK at home? Love, Mom

“I want to warn her,” she said.

“You can’t. This is from your father’s phone. He’ll see it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Send something like ‘Sounds great, have fun.’ Something normal.”

She shook her head. “I could just call?”

“But then—”

“I’ll tell my dad it’s about women’s problems or something, and that I want to speak to my mom in private.”

“Sara, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe—” He swallowed. “Maybe it would be better to call the police after all?”