Deeply Buried: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists (English Edition) E-Book

Ariana Lambert

• Herausgeber: Empire-Verlag
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

On Ireland’s Beara Peninsula incessant rain washes out a dead body. Its discovery leads to a far more gruesome find: buried bones and skeletons of numerous children. The Irish Police are shocked and baffled.

The family of the dead man is shrouded in mysterious silence. They only want to testify to Anna Schwarz, a lawyer from Berlin. But Anna has sworn never to set foot on the green Island again.

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Author's Notes and Acknowledgements

Deeply Buried

Ariana Lambert

The author:

Ariana Lambert has a penchant for stories that are out of the ordinary. As a lawyer and criminal defense attorney, she dealt with real-life atrocities; today she writes about them in fiction. She loves to put that special something extra into her characters, peeking behind the facades of the everyday life and taking her readers into a world she knows all too well. Ariana Lambert lives with her family in Dublin and enjoys spending summers in her homeland, the Spreewald.

The Book:

On Ireland’s Beara Peninsula, inside the circle of ancient Celtic stones, incessant rain washes out a dead body. Its discovery leads to a far more gruesome find: buried bones and skeletons of numerous children. The Irish Police are shocked and baffled. Are the findings of these remains connected to the children of Tuam, one of the most horrific and bone-chilling incidents in Ireland’s criminal history?

The family of the dead man is shrouded in mysterious silence. They only want to testify to Anna Schwarz, a lawyer from Berlin. But Anna has sworn never to set foot on the green Island again.

Deeply Buried

Ariana Lambert

Thriller

Oktober 2025 © Empire-Verlag

Empire-Verlag OG, Lofer 416, 5090 Lofer

[email protected]

Thomas Seidl

Austria

www.empire-verlag.at

First published 2023

001

The moral rights of the author, illustrator and copyright holders has been asserted

Translated: Ariana Lambert

Proofreading: Literary Queens Novel Translation

Barkhausenweg 11

22339 Hamburg

Germany

Cover: Chris Gilcher

http://buchcoverdesign.de/

Illustrations: Adobe Stock ID 443480882, Adobe Stock ID 549102946, Adobe Stock ID 140465072 und freepik.com

All rights reserved. The work may be reproduced only with the permission of the publisher

I dedicate this book to all the children of this world who have been deprived of any chance of life.

1

They had stretched a tarp over the area against the rain that had been falling for days. Nevertheless, they had to hurry to secure the mortal remains. The incessant rain rose to form rivulets around the graves.

With his arms folded behind his back, Jon Johnson looked at a group of helpers who scurried about, industriously like ants, taking no notice of him whatsoever.

He couldn’t tell them apart; all of them in white plastic suits to avoid tampering with the forensic evidence of the scene of the crime.

The buttons on Johnson’s rain jacket threatened to give way over his considerable abdominal girth, and the jacket was soaked inside and out. Rainwater dripped down his back. At regular intervals, he wiped his blurry spectacles. Surprisingly, his shoes were still dry, but it was only a matter of time before the rain would make its way there as well.

He wanted to get away and leave this place. Get back to his dry and warm office in Dublin.

Why did they have to make this terrible discovery now? He came to attend the trial at the Circuit Court in Tralee. After which, they were to go back to Dublin.

However, the discovery of the body last night thwarted his plans, as he happened to be the only prosecutor around the area at that time, he had to visit the site of the discovery and take the initial investigation back to Dublin.

At first, it had been just one dead body, found in the woods on the Beara Peninsula, far to the west and infinitely far from Dublin. It was carelessly buried and discovered by a walker. A classic case scenario.

However, the standing monoliths neatly placed in a circle, covered with moss and partially overgrown, lent an eerie look to the entire proceeding. Such millennia-old rock stones of the Celts could be seen everywhere here.

The question was whether the choice of the grave was random or whether it had a deeper meaning to it.

To find out, they would first have to find out who the dead man was.

Male, between fifty and sixty years old, cause of death, not natural. Numerous hematomas were found on the wrists and ankles, which gave the conclusion that he had been tied up and did not have the chance to fight back. He had strangulation marks on the neck, which most certainly led to death by asphyxiation.

Not pretty, but nothing that would deprive Johnson of his sleep, he thought.

Unfortunately, things turned out differently.

No sooner had they uncovered the body the night before, when one of the gardaì, who had been assigned to clean up the mess, found more human remains that did not belong to the dead man. According to the forensic scientist, these other remains were much older. The huge stack of bones and skeletal remains found were of babies and children.

As Johnson stood there, skeleton after skeleton was unearthed, showing no sign of ending. How many were there? A white tent was erected to protect the scene from the falling rain.

Johnson had once erected such a tent in his garden. It was for his eldest daughter’s communion party, to accommodate the numerous guests. That was a long time ago. His daughters now lived their own lives, and celebrated their own parties. The cottage which they owned then had been sold. He now lived in a smart Victorian terraced house, typical of Dublin, in the middle of the city at Leeson Street. The purchase, alone, had cost him several years’ salary, in addition to the extensive renovation that the house needed. But it had been worth it. He loved his large living room with its dark green Chesterfield sofa, the tall bookshelves of dark brown rosewood, and the extension that was reminiscent of a conservatory that housed the spacious kitchen. After long days at work, he enjoyed the garden, which could have belonged to a posh hotel, with its meticulously laid beds and Buxus trees trimmed into shape. Even the eye-catching bright red, front door with the oversized lion’s head doorknocker was a motif not seen in houses in the busy Dublin city. He was proud, as his house was a real eye-catcher.

He had made it big,if you will. Thanks to his ambition and hard work, he had climbed the career ladder. All that remained was a leap to Chief Prosecution Solicitor at the Dublin Public Prosecutor’s Office. And he was confident that he would manage that, too.

Morbid affairs, such as supervising an explosive corpse find, such as now, were sometimes part of his job. It had always been part of his career tactic not to complain, but to just get on with it. He had never been afraid to get his hands dirty. He expected the same from his co-workers and fellow employees. Not everyone he worked with in his life had kept up with him. His wife was long gone, and his secretary trembled with fear as soon as he entered the office.

Áine Nic Aodha, the forensic scientist, approached him and interrupted his thoughts. She was also in one of the plastic suits, which only revealed her face. Her suit was drenched despite the tarp.

“I think we got all of them. It looks like five bodies, all of them children... infants… Judging by the state of decomposition, they’ve been lying here for about ten years or even longer. Further investigation will give us more details.”

“Children? You don’t believe…” All color drained from Johnson’s face.

“What?” Áine looked at him, inquisitively.

“Well, you know—” An indescribable horror came over him.

Instantly realizing what he meant, she said, “Oh, come on! We’re not in Tuam, Johnson.” Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she turned and walked over to a camping table that stood at the edge of the tent, and began clearing the metal objects into a case. She pulled off her gloves with a snap and carelessly tossed them in, as well. Johnson went after her.

“No, we are not in Tuam, but you must know that the Tuam case hasn’t restricted itself to Tuam only; it has spread far and wide, and we are discovering more and more.”

The woman paused and looked at Johnson. “We?”

“Yes, we. The prosecutor’s office is also represented on the state commission.”

“You too?”

“No, not me, personally, but some of my colleagues.”

“I see.” Her tone was arrogant and dismissive, and she turned away and continued cleaning up.

Her reaction irritated him, which was unusual because he wasn’t normally bothered by people’s reactions. Johnson was used to not being the most popular person in the room, as he was usually overbearing and patronizing to others. It pleased him to take on that role. He suffered from a massive superiority complex. Not often was it repaid to him with kindness.

“You see? What do you mean, you see?”

She looked at him again. “Nothing, just saying.”

“For several years, more facilities have been investigated and excavated, and let’s face it, it won’t stop at that. There will be more sites to investigate.” Johnson felt he had to justify himself.

“That may be. But let’s not paint the devil on the wall right now, Johnson.”

The forensic scientist knew what she was talking about: A total of fourteen mother-child homes across Ireland, including Northern Ireland, were currently being investigated for illegal mass graves. More than eight hundred skeletons of infants and children had been found so far, carelessly buried or deposited in shoeboxes in disused septic tanks of various homes and institutions. The nunnery in Tuam had gained sad notoriety six years ago when almost eight hundred children’s corpses were discovered in a disused sewage tank.

It had turned out that forty years ago, two boys had found bones while playing and had reported the find. However, the investigation of this had come to nothing, since no support had come from the side of the order, and the sisters who could have given information, had long since died. At that time, one had been content with the bones being blessed by a priest, and the investigation had been stopped.

It was not until the early 2000s that a historian had discovered that, for many decades, there had been nearly eight hundred entries of deceased children in the death register, but only one recorded burial. Investigations resumed, and the first catastrophic find was made, which became the infamous Tuam case.

A state commission of inquiry was now investigating dubious events in various homes and the so-called Magdalen Laundries. These were homes and institutions in which unmarried, pregnant women or prostitutes were housed for reform, decades ago in Catholic Ireland. Often the conditions of Magdalen Laundries were characterized by poor hygiene, exploitation of women, and a high mortality rate of babies and children, and many of the deceased had simply been buried or disposed of in the sewers.

The investigation had been slow and difficult because these were incidents that happened in the nineteen twenties and the eyewitnesses were few and far between and mostly ignorant. Recently, a colleague told Johnson about a nun who refused to be interviewed, and her argument was, “If there are bones there, leave them there.” Incidentally, as he reflected, the response of the forensic scientist came close to the ignorance shown by the old woman.

Be that as it may, his only thought was of the children’s corpses still waiting to be discovered. He fervently hoped that he might not have stumbled upon one of Tuam’s graves.

“It’s possible that more graves will be found and this could be one of them,” He insisted.

Áine Aodha gestured with both hands, indicating the surrounding area.

“We are in the middle of nowhere. Except for a few cottages and some old ruins, you won’t find anything here. No mother-child home, no monastery, nothing. So, I think it’s unlikely that we’ve come across a Tuam here.”

Hopefully, Johnson thought. With his usual arrogant demeanor, he squared his shoulder and said authoritatively, “All right, we still have found five bodies of children, including the body of a man who was disposed of here not many hours back. From the looks of it, whoever buried the man, was aware of what lay underneath. He couldn’t have missed them. Let’s get the results as soon as possible, and we can clear up what we are dealing with here.”

2

The house was much too big for her, alone. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to part with it.

When Anna and Chris had decided on the stately villa in Berlin’s Grunewald more than ten years ago, they were full of plans for the future; dreaming of children, garden parties, and a pool in the backyard. To this day, the stress and hardships of her everyday life went away as soon as she turned onto the street, lined with old oaks and poplars, at the end of which stood a 1930sEuropean-style house. The peace and security of her home enveloped her when she took the steps leading up to her veranda, which was supported by round columns. Only the view of the large terracotta tubs with the hydrangeas awakened a guilty conscience in her. She rarely took care of the garden and the flowers anymore. In autumn, the wind blew the falling leaves off the steps, unless her father came to take care of her garden.

Before the terrible accident, gardening had been one of her favorite hobbies. She had planted fresh flowers, decorated the terrace, mowed the lawn. But now she lacked the motivation for such things. There was no pool, no children, and no Chris.

Only Anna.

Anna and the large house with the three bedrooms, one of which was decorated as a nursery for her baby. She could not enter it without feeling a heavy pain in her heart.

An accident; the moment of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, had destroyed everything in her life, and nothing had been the same again. The bus driver had overlooked their little Mini, which was forced into the lane through which an oncoming SUV, unable to swerve out of the way, crashed into them; Chris had no chance of surviving the severe head injuries. She watched him die. She lost her unborn baby. She had lost everything.

No more plans and dreams for the future.

Until today.

This morning, the sun shone into her bedroom. She had slept better than she had in a long time , andshe felt good.

She had dreamed of Benjamin Black.

Benjamin.

The handsome garda from Dublin, whom she had helped last year in the search for the missing boy, Eóin Bowen. The man who, for the first time since Chris’s death, had managed to find a way into her heart and her bed. She had started to dream and plan for the future again, until one day, he betrayed her and nearly killed her for another woman.

It had been over a year and, still, she thought of him sometimes.

This morning, despite the dream, she felt energetic. She felt motivated and raring to go.

Still in her pajamas and barefoot, Anna went downstairs and reached for her landline. It was on the countertop that separated the kitchen from the adjacent dining room. She climbed somewhat awkwardly onto one of the bar stools and dialed the number of her office.

“Good morning, Helen,” she greeted her secretary, who picked up the phone in one ring.

“Good morning, Miss Schwarz.”

“Helen, I’m working from my home office today. I don’t have any appointments. I’ll be working on the Langner file and will be available by phone all day.” Anna hardly ever worked from home, but it was the start of summer vacation in Berlin and Brandenburg, and there weren’t many court appointments during this time.

The weather forecast predicted a pleasant temperature for the day, which was perfect to take care of some things around the house.

“All right, it’s quiet here anyway. You can already feel the vacation season,” Helen responded, cheerfully.

“Thank you, Helen. See you later.” Anna hung up and went to her coffee machine and prepared a cappuccino for herself.

Sunlight streamed through the large windows, and promised a glorious summer day. She opened the doors and stepped out onto the terrace. Here, she could smell the wet grass and the damp coolness that lingered from the previous night.

She sat down on one of the garden chairs, which were neatly arranged around the large table. Anna sat down to enjoy the view of the garden.

The spacious green area was framed by dense shrubs and trees, giving the area some privacy, as no one could view it from the outside. To her right, a dense hazelnut hedge ran wild, and she thought, not for the first time, of the book from her childhood, The Old House, when she saw it. It was a story about an old nutcracker who lived in a nut hedge. He, along with two children and three animals from their grandmother’s house, shared many exciting adventures. In the story, there was also an old broom that always kept the yard and the garden, nice and clean.

She could use one of those, too.

The garden could have been more beautiful if someone had taken care of it. If her father didn’t come two or three times a year to mow the lawn or rake up the leaves, it would have been an overgrown forest by now. Secretly, she was happy to see her father, and maybe that’s why she left the chore for him, as an excuse for him to have to come more often.

Anna took a sip from her cup. The coffee was hot and tasted bitter. Just the way she liked it. Then she lit a cigarette. Her first cigarette in the morning always made her feel giddy, and she enjoyed this feeling. Chris had hated it and tried, tirelessly, to get her to quit smoking.

After enjoying her cigarette and coffee, she was ready to take on the world. As she went upstairs, her bare feet made soft sounds on the shiny, lacquered parquet floor. She paused for a moment outside the door, took a deep breath, and pushed the handle to open it.

The room was dark with the wooden shutters closed. The dim light was not enough to see anything. After a moment, Anna’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she took a step over the threshold. It felt like stepping on an alien planet. She crossed the room, quickly, towards the windows and avoided looking at the left wall.

She wasn’t sure if she could bear the sight of the crib standing there. She pulled up the shutters and let the clear sunlight of the bright morning filter into the room. Anna left the window wide open to drive off the musty smell.

Feeling courageous with daylight entering the room, she looked around as if seeing it for the first time. It was a beautiful room with a high ceiling, adorned with stucco, and it had the same light brown wood flooring as the rest of the house. The floors were decades old, and had been sanded several times, and varnished until they shone. There were rolls of neatly arranged wallpaper next to the door. Her father must have entered this room, and tidied things up at some point.

Hesitantly, she turned her gaze to the right.

A large white sheet was placed over it, but Anna knew what was underneath.

She paused and stared at the irregular outline of the crib through the sheet. Then she walked resolutely towards it and pulled down the sheet. Dust clouds flew through the room and danced for a while in the glow of the incoming light.

Anna dropped the sheet to the floor and looked at the crib. To her surprise, neither a crying fit nor a wave of sadness overcame her today. She could bear the sight of it. The crib was plain but pretty. There was a mattress, wrapped in plastic, and a photo frame that could be hung over the crib. Thecanopy lay, unscrewed, to the side,and even though she felt a tinge of sadness for the past that she could never have, the emotions were in check.

Eleven years was long enough to deal with even the worst of the memories.

She reached for the phone that was in her pocket. She wanted to take a picture of the crib. She could sell it at an online auction and give it to another child. For her, it would be closure of the past and the opportunity to look forward.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost jumped when her phone rang, and the old-fashioned ringtone sounded like the loud clanging of bells in a church tower.

She felt her heartbeat with one hand and with her other hand, she pressed the green icon and accepted the call.

“Oh, God, Helen, you almost gave me a fright,” she said, with a laugh, to calm herself down.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Schwarz, it was not my intention.”

“I know, I know, dear. It’s just that I was taken by surprise. Anyway, what is the matter?”

“Miss Schwarz, I have a caller on the other line who insists on speaking to you right away. He says you know your way around… Dublin.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

Dublin?

Was it Benjamin?

No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn‘t call her.

“Okay, who is he?”

“Jon Johnson. He says he’s from the DPP in Dublin. And he won’t take no for an answer. Do you wish to talk to him?”

Jon Johnson. Of course, she knew him. He had been the investigating prosecutor when she had helped search for the missing Eóin last year. A pompous, arrogant man came to her mind when she thought of him. He did not hide his distaste for anyone, especially a woman, who interfered in his work.

Anna wondered what he wanted from her.

“Yes, I know him. The DPP is the Irish public prosecutor’s office. Just put him through, Helen, I’ll take care of him, thank you.”

A click sounded on the line and Anna greeted the man in accent-free English. “Mister Johnson, what a surprise. How do you do?”

“Miss Schwarz, I didn’t think we would speak again.” He said with a deep bass voice. Anna remembered him as a tall and bulky man. He was nearly bald and kept stroking whatever little hair he had, with great care, at regular intervals.

“Neither did I. What can I do for you?”

Johnson exhaled a deep sigh, and Anna was eager to know what he had to say.

“I’m not sure how to start. It’s tricky.”

“I’m sure it is.” Anna couldn’t help herself from smiling at his hesitancy, which was unlike his usual manner.

“I would like to invite you to Ireland again,” he said awkwardly.

“Excuse me?” Anna couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice.

“Yes, we desperately need your help here. You could help us investigate a death.”

“Mister Johnson—” Anna interjected before he could continue. “Stop! You don’t have to say anymore. I can’t come to Ireland. Have you forgotten what happened on my last visit to Dublin? Believe me, I have absolutely no interest in your case, and therefore you don’t have to go through the pains of telling me why you need my help so badly. ”

A year ago, Katharina Bowen, Anna’s former client, had commissioned her to search for her missing son, Eóin, for which she had to go to Dublin. It was only after Katharina had attacked Anna that she had learned of her client’s real intentions. Katharina had staged Eóin’s disappearance to get back at Anna for a past mistake that she supposedly believed Anna had committed. Anna was, subsequently, abducted to a remote mausoleum on the coast of the Irish Sea. It was there that she learned that Benjamin was also involved with Katharina.He was led to believe that he owed something to Katharina’s mother and thus, in turn, had to help her. Fortunately, he came to his senses and realized that he owed nothing to Katharina or her mother and in the final moments, stopped Katharina from shooting Anna.

While Katharina was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for severe psychosis, Benjamin was charged and suspended from the Garda.

Johnson’s loyalty to Benjamin at his criminal trial had surprised Anna. For his involvement in the abduction, Benjamin had to answer to the Criminal Court. Anna had traveled to Dublin for the trial several months ago and had the opportunity to listen to Jon Johnson’s testimony.

Anna had refrained from giving her testimony. Her feelings were as ambivalent as Gardas, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for Benjamin. She took no pleasure in knowing that his life was finished now.

The prosecutor’s intercession had been more than useful. Despite the criticism he expressed of his colleague’s act, in this case, admiration and respect for his usual professionalism prevailed. Anna had sensed the prosecutor’s regret at losing an employee of integrity.

Without the prosecutor’s lenient words, it could have ended much worse for Benjamin. She had not waited any longer to hear of the outcome, but much later, she had heard from an acquaintance that he had gotten off with a suspended sentence and a transfer to an Irish backwater.

But Katharina had not finished with her and had escaped from the closed ward of the Central Mental Hospital to face Anna once again in the court before she was caught and taken back to the hospital.

“I don’t need to remind you that this madwoman had managed to escape from the psychiatric ward to harm me,” Anna reminded the prosecutor.

“I do remember,” said the latter, more meekly than she had expected of him.

“And do you also remember how she rushed at me like a wild-eyed fury and went for my throat?” Anna yelled at him through the phone, as she felt herself boiling with anger. “No, Mister Johnson, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go to Dublin, no matter how urgent the matter may be. I don’t care. I hope you’ll understand.” She said the last words more softly as she felt sorry for her outburst.

“Of course, I understand. I deeply regret what happened to you, Miss Schwarz. None of it should have happened.Nevertheless—” he paused for a moment, presumably to choose his next words. “—Miss Bowen is now well accommodated. The clinic has learned from its mistakes. Fortunately, she was arrested right away, before she could do you any serious harm. Besides—” Anna interrupted him with a contemptuous snort. Johnson, however, was not deterred and went on, “—as far as I could tell, this… case… did absolutely no harm to your career.”

“Ha!” Anna laughed out loud. “You’re good, Johnson, really good.”

Indeed, Anna’s unconventional investigative methods had helped her achieve certain notoriety as a lawyer. Recentlyd been called several times to speak at academic conferences around the world. She went to Brussels as a consultant to the European Commission. Johnson must have done some research before calling.

“Miss Schwarz, please don’t make me beg you. At least hear me out before you decide.” He was trying very hard to be polite.

Meanwhile, Anna had gone downstairs and made herself another cup of coffee. With the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, she fished out a cigarette from the packet and went back to the terrace. The sun was higher and it was getting warmer. She lit the cigarette, sat down on the chair, put her legs up, and took a sip of coffee. “Well, tell me about it, then,” Anna said, her curiosity winning over her earlier grudge. She wanted to know what might have moved the man to beg for her help.

“Okay then. A few days ago, a walker found the body of a man, in a forest on the West Coast. He died about two weeks ago. The cause of death was strangulation. There are no signs of struggle as his hands and legs were tied. By now, we also know who he was. His name was Devlin. His native name was Victor Sartor, born in Lichtenfels. That’s near Munich and he grew up—”

“In Berlin… Victor Sartor?” Anna interrupted.

“You knew this guy?”

“Yes, I knew him, and I know that you knew that, too.”

He was a convicted criminal. She remembered a small man with greasy hair and thin lips, brimming with self-confidence and a fondness for small, young girls. Anna had been part of his case a long time back. He was prosecuted and put behind bars.

“So he was found strangled in Ireland?”

“Yes. He immigrated to Ireland a few years ago.”

Anna listened intently. She didn’t feel any pity for the pervert. At least there was one less child molester in the world.

“Okay, and that’s why you need me? Because your dead man is a criminal whose trial I attended some ten years ago? By the way, I was the representative of the Nebenklage, not his defense attorney. How could I be of any help?”

“Twelve years ago, not ten.” He corrected Anna. “But, that’s not all. He didn’t immigrate to Ireland by himself, he went there with five women.”

“With five women?”

“Exactly. With five women. I would have to elaborate further to explain this to you in detail. I think we can catch up when you get here.”

Anna gasped.

Johnson paused briefly, then continued, “What I’m getting at is this: one of the women is named Kim Valentin. Does that name ring a bell to you?”

“Yes, it does. She’s the girl I represented in the criminal case. She was twelve when he… had his way with her. We were lucky to get hold of her or else he would never have been convicted. She was infatuated with him. I think it was more of a dependency. Anyway, we were able to convict him for the acts up to her fourteenth year. Everything after that, unfortunately, failed. If I remember correctly, he only got a suspended sentence.”

“You’re right. At the end of his parole period, he immigrated to Ireland with Kim and four other women.”

Johnson had managed to pique Anna’s interest. “And what do Kim and the other four women have to say about his death?”

“They are all silent about his death.”

“Oh, that’s interesting! And you want me to make them talk?”

Silence reigned for a brief moment. Then Johnson finally got to the point: “Well, yes. The thing is, Kim has asked for you.”

“For me?” Anna was honestly surprised. She hadn’t thought Kim remembered her. The trial had been twelve years ago, and Kim was just a child then.

“For you.”

“Oh, Mister Johnson. You can’t be serious. What are you hoping to get out of her? Do you think she’s going to speak to me? Confess and tell who killed the man?”

“Well, one can try, certainly, but there’s more you need to know.”

“Yes?” Anna was getting excited now.

“The death of Sartor is not all, and even if we don’t find his killer, it won’t keep me up at night.”

Anna was surprised by this unconventional confession of a prosecutor. Although she was a lawyer, she wouldn’t shed a tear for a child molester; most prosecutors approached things differently. Solving a homicide was part of their professional ethos. Johnson’s pragmatism surprised her. She couldn’t begin to guess what he was getting at.

“We found bones of children buried in and around the same perimeter where we found his dead body.”

“Bones?”

“Yes, bones of little children… infants, to be precise.”

Ouch. This fact, indeed, made the case seem more explosive.

“And you suspect a connection with Sartor?”

“Indeed.”

“And now you want me to make Kim talk? Do you think she’d confess to whatever she knew?”

“A good question, but I don’t expect a confession from her. She’s a quiet, unassuming woman. I don’t understand at all how she got into this community.”

“What community?”

“I won’t be able to tell you in words. You’ll have to take a look at it with your own eyes, which brings us back to the beginning of our conversation. Can you come to Dublin?”

3

A dress that was more sequins than fabric. Heels much too high.

Wasn’t it pathetic to be in your early forties, dolled up like a Christmas tree, in a club with music way too loud and sipping cocktails that were way too colorful? Anna was annoyed that she had let her friend, Lene talk her into going out tonight.

Anna put her cocktail aside to look at her. Lene seemed to be enjoying herself. With one of those elaborately designed drinks in her hand, she swayed to the rhythm of the bass booming from the speakers above them. Anna, on the other hand, had to resist the impulse to cover her ears.

“Here comes Clara,” Lene yelled in her ear, pointing towards the entrance of the club. Lenegrabbed Anna by the arm, and pulled her in the direction of her arriving friend.

Further ahead in the large room, which, if not for so many people and shelves of bottles and glasses, would resemble a large factory floor, but it was less noisy.

She had met Lene’s friend a few times on a professional basis.

Lene waved at Clara, who caught sight of her and approached them with a wide smile.

“Sorry for the delay. I couldn‘t get a cab. What’s going on here today?”

“It’s Friday night!” Lene commented. “I’m glad you’re here. Do you know Anna?”

Clara nodded, and the two women shook hands. “We recently had a criminal case at a Berlin District Court.”

“And you’ve known each other for a while?” Anna asked.

While Clara contented herself with a nod and gestured at the rushing bartender to order something, Lene explained to her in more detail: “We’ve known each other for a while and have run into each other many times at the office. But for a few weeks now, we’ve both been working in the same unit, and Clara is supposed to take over at the end of the year.”

Clara looked at Anna and nodded at her with a big grin.

Both women worked at the public prosecutor’s office in Berlin and handled sexual offense cases. Anna also bumped into them, occasionally, as she worked as a victim advocate and human rights activist.

“We get along great…and we don’t have anyone waiting for us at home. So, I thought, why not all three of us go out once in a while.,” Lene said with a wink.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---