Once he reached the block in question, things became more difficult. No one knew a Lotti, no one had seen a female detective matching Müller’s description. But then why would they? In this snow, she’d have had her hat pulled down over her head, her coat collar up, and even if she had her police overcoat on, most of the fuckwits here wouldn’t know what one looked like. This was going to be a thankless task. Knocking on every door would take ages.

Instead, in case something had gone wrong, he decided to do a quick visual check of each floor.

It was on the third floor where he struck lucky. He saw the shards of wood first, then looked up to see that the door lock on apartment 315 had been forced open. He was tempted to call out her name – but then what if she was being held captive in there? Instead, he drew his Makarov from his shoulder holster, slid off the safety catch, and carefully opened the door.

It wasn’t until he was a few paces inside the apartment that the light coming through the window illuminated her body – slumped on the ground.

‘Karin!’ he shouted. ‘Are you OK?’ The question was redundant. He could see she wasn’t.

He knelt down beside her, blood pounding in his head, and felt for a pulse.

Thankfully there was one. As he did so, he noticed the wound on the back of her head.

He manoeuvred her onto her side, bent one leg and one arm to make sure she was in the recovery position.

Then he got out his handheld radio and summoned an ambulance.

Chapter 14

14

Müller panicked when she finally regained consciousness. She was in a strange bed – a hospital bed – and it brought back bad memories of a previous hospital visit, in Halle-Neustadt, which had nearly seen her and her twins losing their lives. She found herself struggling for breath, hyperventilating, and heard the monitors that were checking her vital functions going haywire.

Nurses and doctors rushed in, she was given an injection, and then suddenly nothing mattered and the world was wonderful. She felt she was floating above herself, like an out of body experi-ence. But although she felt calmer, something still nagged at the back of her head – and it wasn’t just the dull headache. She brought her hand up, felt the dressings, and then remembered. She’d been in the flat of the woman called Lotti when she must have been attacked from behind, just like their victim in Gorbitz. Through the fuzz of whatever sedative the medics had given her, she tried to get her thoughts in order, but couldn’t.

The appearance of a familiar face – Tilsner – at her bedside was a relief.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. ‘Someone had a right go at you.’

She struggled to get the words out. ‘I’ve felt better.’