Ralf rolled his chewing gum around his mouth. He looked from one to the other, but he couldn’t utter a word—he was breathing too hard for that.

“That’s right. And I’m his mother. Katja Venema. Nice to meet you.”

The officers exchanged a few lukewarm courtesies. Just the right amount of attention so that nobody could accuse them of being out-and-out douchebags, but nowhere enough to make her feel respected and welcome here. They were experts at that, thought Ralf. Belittling people. Subtly, like now—or more obviously, when there weren’t any other adults around. Even in front of his mother they had to prove what tough guys they were. Fucking machos. A conversation took place, but he didn’t take any of it in—it was drowned out by the pounding of his heart and his rapid breathing.

Maybe, he thought suddenly, it would do more harm than good to report Mikey. A guy like that could talk his way out of a police cell within a day or two, or he might not even be arrested in the first place—and then Ralf would be in truly deep shit, as Mikey would know he’d gone to the police.

“Listen, my shift is over.” Zwart looked at Loukili. “Do you have time to deal with this?”

“Sure, I can fit it in.”

As his colleague walked away, Loukili turned to face Ralf. His dark eyes glittered, and an amused smile played over his lips. “I haven’t seen you at the supermarket in a while, Venema.”

Ralf felt his jaw tighten.

The prick was enjoying this. He relished seeing Ralf here in the station with his mother. Two innocent rabbits who had strayed into his filthy wolf’s lair. Not a shred of sympathy to be seen on his face. Not a trace of humanity. There never had been.

“Did you move or something?” That humiliating smirk again.

Ralf’s hands clenched into fists. Was this actually happening? Did he really have to file a report with Loukili, a neighborhood officer who issued fines on the street to nervous fourteen-year-old boys with broken taillights?

No way.

He’d rather eat his own sneakers.

“Screw this,” he said sharply. He spun around and marched away.

His mother called after him, but he didn’t hear her. He pushed open the glass doors, oblivious to his surroundings. Paced toward his car without breaking his stride. People stepped out of his way and turned to watch him. He wiped the tears from his face angrily.

6

6

This part of the building was remarkably quiet; almost everybody was on their way to get some pea soup. Helen walked through a hall lined with planters before turning left into a dimly lit corridor.