Page 36 of Nothing Watching

Wyatt hung up, and they stared at each other expectantly.

Despite being frustrated, red-eyed from a bad night’s sleep, and temporarily discouraged, Juliette now felt as if they had a new lead and a strong direction.

There was still an American link between the three victims and all had ties to the States. She’d been beginning to wonder if that had just been coincidental, but now, if a common thread could be found, it might not be. A diplomat who’d evaded arrest in the States might not have rehabilitated his behavior, but felt that he’d been getting away with it and could do so again. And what better target to pick on than American travelers, especially if this killer resented the authorities for what they’d done?

“We can start looking on our side, too,” she decided.

While it would be easier for Ebury and his team to collate the arrest records, and the history of charges, on their side, Juliette had a plan, and it started with scouring the news for any potential incidents.

She quickly pulled up her laptop and opened a search engine. She typed in various keywords—“American fugitive,” “US criminal in Germany,” and other similar phrases. Article after article popped up on her screen, and she read through them eagerly. All it would take was one. She couldn’t afford to miss that one.

But although her search showed her that there had been a few US criminals who’d fled to Germany, the German police had done a good job in tracking them down. The three non-diplomatic criminals who had fled to Germany from the US in the past four years had all been extradited and were now serving jail time in the States. Their cases had all been efficiently handled, with good cooperation from both countries. Fleeing to Germany had not helped these criminals.

A diplomat who’d offended might not have had his name all over the news, Juliette surmised. So, with that avenue of investigation closed, all they could do was wait for Ebury.

He called just a minute later.

Juliette grabbed the call on the first ring. “You got something?” she asked.

“I do,” Ebury said. “I managed to find a couple of names that fit the criteria you gave me. They’re both diplomats, and they both returned to Germany from the US a few weeks before the time the murders started.”

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat. “Can you give us their names?” she asked. “And their reasons for returning?”

“Of course,” Ebury said. “The first one is Heinrich Carter, a former German ambassador to the US. He was accused of assault by one of his staff members, who said he’d beaten her up. He fled back to Germany six months ago and has been living here ever since. We’ve been trying to get him back. The German authorities are refusing. Seems like they’re protecting him for some reason.”

Heinrich sounded like a strong lead, Juliette thought. She raised her eyebrows as Ebury spoke, and saw Wyatt raising his in return.

“And the second one?” she asked.

“His name is Richard Johnson,” Ebury said. “He was part of the diplomatic corps in the US, and he returned to Germany recently, before his contract was finished. I’m not sure why but I believe it was under a cloud.”

“We’ll see if we can get more information on our side,” Juliette said. “Thank you, Ebury.”

She hung up, feeling a sense of triumph. They had two potential suspects. But how were they going to find out which one, if either, was the killer?

Sierra was busy on her laptop, and Juliette guessed she was looking for some background information on Johnson. In another moment, she had it.

“It seems like Johnson left under a cloud just because he quit when they needed him, and before his contract term was up,” she said. “He was headhunted because of his international expertise, and he’s currently working as HR director for a big firm in Frankfurt. So I’m going to say he’s not our man, and we need to focus on Heinrich Carter, who has the actual charges against him.”

Juliette nodded. That was where they needed to go next. To Heinrich Carter, who was dodging and diving and evading the law.

But, as she stood up, her phone rang again, and looking at the screen, she saw it was Detective Fischer.

Quickly, feeling her stomach lurch, she grabbed it. She had no idea why the detective was calling, but at the moment this case was spiraling so far out of control that she dreaded it would be bad news, and that another victim had been found.

Reminding herself that this killer had so far only struck at night, and that she mustn’t panic, she said, “Agent Hart speaking,” in a calm, controlled voice.

“Agent Hart? I have the forensic results from the hairs we found at the second crime scene,” Fischer said. “You might want to meet quickly. There are some important discoveries here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The blank page was taunting him, and as he stared at it, he felt a burning behind his eyes, as if the frustration in his soul was boiling his blood and consuming him from within.

The page was inserted into an old-fashioned typewriter that he’d purchased from an antique store. He’d experimented on it a few times, and the clack-clack of the keys, the effort it took to press them, the strange, inky smell of the typewriter ribbon, the unevenness of the typeface—these had not given him the inspiration that he’d hoped for. Instead, the inconsistencies had all prickled his senses, making him feel disoriented, and even less capable of doing the task he knew he must.

He needed to write, to pour his feelings out, to create a work as legendary, as timeless, as Nietzsche or Goethe or Heine. He’d done it in the past but now he was suffering from a terrible block, and the inability to do it again.

Try as he might, the words wouldn’t come. They were trapped inside him, swirling in a vortex of emotion, refusing to coalesce into something tangible.

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