Page 29 of Nothing Watching

“Unfortunately, he was faster,” Juliette said, feeling her stomach wrench at the realization. “When was this body found?”

“Just half an hour ago by a street cleaner who drove this route,” Lehmann explained.

“And the time of death?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s so recent. As soon as it was called in, and they said it was a young, blond woman, we called you. I’m not even sure it was the same cause of death,” he said anxiously.

“I’m very glad you called us so fast. Thank you,” she said.

She moved forward, stopping on the way to put on head and foot covers, and her ears then tuning in to the German language as she neared the coroner.

The coroner was kneeling over the body, speaking rapidly to his assistant, gesturing toward the neck with a look of intense concentration on his face. Juliette waited, watching as he leaned over the victim and began to examine her, his assistant following his every move. Finally, he straightened up and turned to face her.

He sighed, looking sad and tired.

“This is a strangulation,” he said in German. “Undoubtedly, the work of this serial killer.”

“Do you know the time of death?” she asked.

“She has been dead a few hours already. Possibly, late last night.”

“And she was only found now?”

“She was lying in the shadows. And unfortunately, there has been less activity on the streets tonight, with this police warning.”

He shrugged, confirming Juliette’s theory that the warning had been a double-edged sword.

“German ID, we understand?” Juliette asked.

Lehmann shook his head. “We have just called her family. Her sister, Lottie, lives in Frankfurt. She said that she does have dual citizenship, and spent several years in the States when she was younger. Toula lived here alone, and worked for a clothing outlet store.”

So, the theory that the killer was targeting Americans might still hold water, even though Juliette knew it could be a coincidence.

“Is there a page of a book left anywhere nearby?” Juliette asked, thinking again of those signatures.

“Yes. She was lying on her back behind this dumpster, and there was a piece of paper under her right hand.”

He gestured toward an evidence bag. Juliette narrowed her eyes, craning forward.

The yellowed page and closely printed letters told her that this was from a similar volume as the others. Bending closer still, she made out the tiny lettering, with its cramped serif font.

It was from a work of Nietzsche. She recognized the quote immediately. She’d studied it in university as part of her psychology course, and this one had always chilled her.

I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good because they had no claws.

That sent cold shivers down her back. This killer was choosing the pages purposefully. To her, that text resonated with evil intent.

Now, taking in the level of knowledge, the extent of this killer’s literary repertoire, this page was sending her a clear message.

It was one that she should have explored yesterday, and now recrimination was sitting heavy on her shoulders.

“We need to go to the university,” she said to Wyatt and Sierra. “They must tell us who works for them, and who’s recently quit or been fired, and who they’ve had problems with. And not tomorrow, not next week. No more delays from their side. We need this now!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Juliette could see why there would be delays. The university was an academic institution, where time moved at a slower pace, and there was little need for extreme urgency in everyday life. Plus, it was a complex organism with many different facets and branches, and she did appreciate that getting information from all of them, and collating it, would be time consuming.

But there was another factor she suspected was contributing to the delay, which was the university’s reputation, as she knew that nobody would be eager to have the police swarming in—closely followed by the media with their interested questions.

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