Page 15 of Nothing Watching

While hunting down any recently released offenders, Juliette decided to base herself at the closest police station. Time was of the essence. She had a sick feeling of certainty that by tomorrow, this killer would have struck again.

Even though the police warning had been important, she feared that if he learned about it, it would only spur him on to kill again, faster, before the net closed in.

When she, Wyatt, and Sierra arrived at the police station, it was clear that the warning operation was well underway. As she entered the station, she felt a sense of urgency in the air. The officers all looked on high alert, and she heard sharp conversations on the radios crackling through the air, the sounds of phones trilling, and quick footsteps as the police rushed through the building.

A serious-looking, gray-haired police officer in a neat uniform was busy sticking freshly printed posters to the walls.

Warnung!the word screamed out at her in red print.

It was followed by an advisory for all women on their own to please take care after dark, not to walk on their own, not to choose remote or deserted areas if there were busier routes available.

Juliette hoped it would help, but she knew that all it would take was one person who hadn’t seen the warning, one person who headed the wrong way, or who lived down a deserted street.

But she forced herself to think positively, that if they were able to identify the killer before tonight, then everyone in the city would be safe.

“Good morning,” she said to the officer. “We are from the international task force who are hunting this killer.” Showing her badge, she gestured to the poster. “Can we use your network, and is there a spare desk where we can do some research?”

He hesitated, as if briefly derailed by this breach of usual protocol, but then rallied politely.

“Of course,” he said. “Come this way and I will show you where you can sit.”

Juliette followed him, passing by a few offices where officers were hard at work. Over and above the stress that this killer had created, there was an atmosphere of efficiency and tidiness in the entire building.

At the end of the corridor, he showed her into a small room, which had a desk in the corner. There was a computer on it, and some files piled up beside it. There were two chairs behind the desk, and another two neatly stacked in the corner. The officer gestured to the desk.

“You can use this for as long as you need,” he said. “And if you need any assistance, just let me know. The login and password details are on that card there.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said, and sat down at the desk.This research was a daunting task, but she was determined to leave no stone unturned.

Wyatt sat next to her and Sierra pulled up a chair opposite. Then she opened up the computer and began searching.

She started with a simple search for any recently released offenders who had a history of violence against women, and particularly foreigners and American women. It was a broad search, but she hoped that something might pop up. A violent ex-convict was fitting the bill—and if there were any links between him and historic literature, so much the better.

As she scrolled through the list of offenders, Juliette couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. There were so many of them, each with their own history of violence and aggression.

“I’m going to do a search for any recently paroled murderers of any description,” Wyatt said. “There’s an option here for searching in English.”

“That’s great.”

“And I’ll go through news articles,” Sierra volunteered. “Perhaps this might not be a paroled prisoner we’re looking for, but an escaped one. I’m going to see if anyone like that comes up in my search.”

“With those three ideas, I think we’re good,” Juliette said approvingly.

The more ideas and angles they followed, the more likely it was that something would come up. They began searching, and Juliette scrolled through the names, looking at each one carefully, starting with the overview and then, if it looked promising, moving to the details. She didn’t want to waste time by pursuing the wrong lead, but nor did she want to rule anyone out too early. This was going to be a balancing act, she acknowledged, glancing at Wyatt and seeing the intensity in his face as he, too, scoured the database.

But then, something caught her eye.

A man named Markus Schmidt, released from prison just three weeks ago. He had a history of violent offenses against women, and had served seven years of a ten-year sentence after assaulting a blond, female American tourist during a road rage incident on the autobahn. According to the police report, he had gripped her neck, attempted to strangle her, and then punched her so hard he’d broken her arm and two ribs.

It was all starting to make sense now. Markus Schmidt fit the profile perfectly—a violent ex-convict who had recently been released from prison, and whowas likely to have a grudge against Americans in particular. Clearly, strangulation was something that came instinctively to him when he sought out violence.

But what really caught Juliette’s attention was the fact that he had been employed at the Berlin Library before his spate of violence had begun.

“Look here,” she said, feeling excited. “I think this man checks enough of the boxes.”

Quickly, she printed out the main details and handed the page over to Wyatt and Sierra. She saw that he was residing in Berlin, not near the city center, but further out of town. Even so, it was within the area.

She took a good look at his face. It was a hard, square face, but he had no visible tattoos, no identifying marks, no scars. Put him in a business suit and he would look like anyone else on the street. She reckoned that this appearance might have allowed him to get close to the victims. He wouldn’t have been seen as a threat, that was for sure.

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