‘Are you well enough to tell me what happened?’

Müller tried to sit up further in bed, then felt a thudding pain in the back of her skull and relaxed back into her previous position. ‘There’s not a lot to say. I found her flat in Sonnenstein.’

‘I know. That’s where I found you.’

‘You came after me?’ For some reason, the thought made Müller feel warm inside.

‘Only because I knew it wasn’t like you not to check in with me as to how I was getting on with the missing persons files. And the answer is, not very well. But I can’t believe you just collapsed and hit your head.’

Müller started panicking again. ‘My Makarov?’

Tilsner patted her arm. ‘It’s OK. Relax. I’ve got it. Whoever clobbered you didn’t care about your gun. Now, are you well enough to tell me what happened?’

Müller tried to relax into her bed pillows. ‘I went into the apartment. There was someone there – rifling through her desk drawers. But there must have been two of them and I didn’t realise. The second one must have been keeping guard.’

‘Descriptions?’ asked Tilsner, taking out his notebook.

Müller shook her head, then regretted it, as pain pulsed through her body once more. ‘I didn’t see them clearly – even the one in front of me.’

‘Male, female?’

‘Male – medium build, dark clothing, dark hair – I think. His back was towards me, and when he turned he shone his torch into my eyes. I didn’t see his face. Sorry. I’m worse than Petra Abt.’

Tilsner attempted a weak smile, but she could tell he was probably thinking the same thing. ‘It can’t be helped,’ he said. ‘The good news is, the doctors here think there’s no lasting damage. But you were out cold for about four hours.’

‘What time is it?’

Tilsner glanced down at his watch. His expensive, western watch. ‘It’s just coming up to one in the morning. I’d better be off now – someone will have to hold the fort in the morning, and you’re in no shape to. But you’ve obviously got a nice thick skull – it’s saved you.’

Müller attempted a weak smile, but just creasing her face was painful. ‘Did you manage to find anything in the apartment – had they left anything to find?’

‘Plenty, yes. I’ve bagged it all up but won’t start sifting through it till tomorrow, and I’ve left Jonas there doing forensic work. He might be able to lift some prints. Were they wearing gloves?’

Müller defied the pain to furrow her brow, in a bid to remember. To recall something, anything. But she couldn’t. ‘Sorry, Werner, I just didn’t see.’

Chapter 15

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