The message arrived with an angry buzz. Helen read it and replied:

Five minutes.

She grabbed a white coat from the pile, pulled it on over her uniform, and stuffed her cell phone into her pocket. She tried to head toward the hall, but two colleagues throwing their work clothes into the hamper blocked her path—their shifts were over. Just then, Lex walked into the changing room, followed by Anouk and a new anesthesiologist.

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” Lex took a white coat from the shelf.

“Um, yeah,” she muttered.

He winked as he pulled on his coat. “News travels fast, huh?”

“News?”

“Pea soup,” he said, looking as though he’d arranged it personally. “No time to lose.”

“Oh, right.” The soup of the day in the cafeteria was of varying quality. Helen suspected that a lot of it came straight out of a can, but the pea soup was always delicious. Plus, they served it with rye bread.

She walked out of the changing room and tried not to look like she was in too much of a rush. “I just need to do something first. I’ll be right there.”

Lex walked alongside her. “Can I help?”

“No.”

Don’t ask any more questions.

Please.

She didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since Werner’s message arrived, but she knew she had to hurry.

When they reached an intersection between two corridors, she briefly laid her hand on Lex’s arm. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Grab a bowl for me, would you?”

She walked briskly down the hallway. Only at the end did she venture to look back, just in time to see Lex chatting with a group of colleagues as they headed toward the cafeteria.

5

5

“My son and I have been waiting awhile now for somebody to help us. We’d like to file a report.”

“The best way to do that is online, ma’am,” said Loukili, whose shaven skull and zealous demeanor made him look more like a commando than a police officer. “That way, you won’t have to wait.”

Ralf stood by his mother’s side. “This isn’t something we can report online.”

“Oh, is that so?” His lips curled into a condescending smile.

“It would be nice if you could take this seriously,” Ralf heard his mother say. Her voice trembled slightly.

“I take everything seriously, ma’am. You wouldn’t believe the things we have to deal with every day.” He looked at Ralf.

The same provocative stare, the same attitude as back then. Ralf felt himself shrinking. The years crumbled away, and from under the dust appeared a little boy trying to hold his own among his older friends. Clammy hands with bitten-off fingernails gripping the handlebars of his bike, its taillight broken.

“You’re Ralf Venema, aren’t you?” asked the shorter policeman. His eyes narrowed.