Page 94 of Tattooed Sweetness

“If you’re worried that she resents your breakup with Kevin…” Philipp unerringly puts his finger in my wound—unfortunately, I poured out my heart to him last night!“…maybe you should try the truth? Why are you protecting this fucking idiot from your aunt by staying silent about his violence?”

Because it would destroy Aunt Mareike’s view of life, who thinks so highly of her knowledge of human nature?To distract from the subject, I point my finger at the dashboard. “Could you please turn on the radio? There’s a site visit scheduled for this afternoon, so if it rains, I’d have to cancel it in time…”

“…ing women,” Philipp mumbles something into his non-existent beard, which sounds anything but amiable. But at least he presses the appropriate button while we wait for the green at the traffic light.

“…In the case of Cologne prosecutor and book author Gesine Grosse-Garbe, who has been missing since Valentine’s Day…” The voice of the newscaster comes through the loudspeakers as the queue in front of us starts to move. “…a dramatic turn of events has occurred.”

But… Why isn’t he driving?I look over at Philipp and am startled.

Clutching the steering wheel so tightly that the knuckles of his tattooed fingers stand out yellowish white, he stares straight ahead.

“…in the press release, the head of the press office, First Police Chief Superintendent Ganter announced that an autopsy has clarified that the woman’s body found early Sunday morning in the Peace Forest is the fifty-five-year-old…”

“Moop!” honks the horn behind us. “Moop! Moop-mooop!”

I look at Philipp, but he doesn’t seem to hear it. Instead, he hangs transfixed with the newscaster’s languidly delivered remarks.

“…In view of the circumstances, a press conference has been announced for this Monday evening. Berlin. The jury of the 66th Berlin International Film Festival awarded the filmSea Fireby director Gianfranco Rosi…”

“Moop! Moop-moop-moop!” Now that the traffic light in front of us has turned red, the motorists behind us are almost freaking out. “Mooop!”

“Philipp…” Carefully, I put my hand on his forearm.

He jerks around. “What?” he barks at me. Once again, he doesn’t seem to know where he is. At least that’s what his slightly glazed look suggests.

But I’m not deterred by it. “If you’re not feeling well… would you like me to take the wheel?”

As hoped, comprehension flickers across his face. He blinks, looks ahead at the empty roadway, the red light—and then in the rearview mirror. “Holy shit!” With a shake of his head, he puts the gear selector in D and lets the truck roll forward. “That just totally…”

…has taken you away, I complete his sentence in my mind. Just as I look over to ask him if…

…he slams his fist down so hard on the steering wheel that I wince. “Fucking hell!” His gaze hits me. Upset. Enraged. Distraught. “Did you… Did you…” Flailing, he points toward the radio. “Did you hear that?” He takes a deep breath and looks at me as if only I can save him. “Or did I just imagine it?”

“The news report?” I ask, and he nods. “Yes, I caught a piece of it, but…” I point ahead. “The traffic light just changed again. You’d better get going now…”

“Damnit!” He makes the truck accelerate so hard that it pushes me into the upholstery. “I am so fucked up right now!”

I realize that… “Why don’t you turn right up ahead,” I suggest. “There’s hardly anyone in the parking lot in front of the sign store this early. We can talk there in peace.”

“Uh-huh,” is all Philipp says, but hits the blinker while I unlock my cell phone.

“Katja? It’s Celine. Listen, I’m sorry, but could you please cancel my appointments for me? I need to take the morning off for urgent personal reasons…”.

A few minutes later, Philipp reached the address and parked the truck. He lets the breath escape in a stream, then rests his forearms and forehead on the steering wheel.

I give him a moment to collect himself. Afterward, I clear my throat.

He closes his eyes. His inner emotional chaos spills out of every pore. Finally, he tilts his head and looks at me. “Did I imagine that?”

“What?” I ask, just to be sure.

“The thing that was on the news.” He pulls his lips in an unfunny smirk.

“You mean the missing person thing?” I phrase carefully because I can literally feel it bubbling up inside him.

“Alright.” He nods. “So far, I still seem to be functioning. And the name?” His gaze is so pleading it almost makes me nauseous. “Gesine Grosse-Garbe?”

I can’t swear to it with a thousand percent certainty, but…“Yes, I think so. It could have sounded like that or something similar. That is, wait a minute…” I unlock the cell phone I’m still holding. Then I open the browser app and entermissing person Colognein the search mask.

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