“Bad Homburg,” Burkhart said.
But by the time they covered the fifteen miles and reached the sleepy little village of smooth-walled gray houses, they knew they had little chance of catching the Maserati. It could have gone in any one of several directions.
Burkhart smashed his fist on the wheel.
Mattie felt the same way. They’d been so close, but they hadn’t saved Artur Jaeger or the security guard, nor had they prevented the injuries resulting from the crashes. The killer had beaten them once again, and she was beginning to fear he might be unstoppable.
“We should go back,” Burkhart said, “and find the police and give our statement.”
Mattie almost agreed, but then something clicked in the back of her mind.
“No, wait,” she said, digging for her cell phone. “Pull over.”
She dialed Dr. Gabriel’s number and got the aging hippie right away. Without pretext she asked, “Where is Ilse Frei from? The missing woman?”
“Bad Homburg,” he replied.
“You have the address?”
He told her to wait a moment and then came back with it. “What’s happening? Where are you?”
“Bad Homburg,” she said and hung up. She looked at Burkhart. “Ilse Frei lives less than a mile from here. The killer knew this place. That’s why he ran here.”
Burkhart put the car in gear.
/> Six minutes later they drove past a modest duplex on the outskirts of town at the edge of farm country. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and in the distance they could hear sirens wailing.
Burkhart parked the red BMW in the alley so as not to attract police attention. They went to the back door and knocked.
A few moments passed and they were about to knock again when a pleasant-looking blond woman in her early thirties appeared in the window and eyed them suspiciously before opening the door on a security chain.
“Yes?”
Mattie held up her badge. “We’re with Private Berlin. We—”
The woman’s hand went to her throat and she cried, “Did Chris send you? Has he found Ilse?”
CHAPTER 77
“DEAD?” TINA HANOVER said twenty minutes later in a soft, sad voice. “And Ilse, too?”
They were sitting at a small table in a spartanly equipped kitchen, drinking coffee she’d made for them.
Mattie’s mind flashed on the woman’s corpse beside Chris’s. “I can’t say for sure. Her remains have not been tested, but there was a woman’s body with his.”
Ilse Frei’s roommate’s shoulders slumped. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she shook her head slowly. “Poor Ilse. She was right to be afraid. I told Chris she was afraid and to be careful. I guess I…”
She bit at her knuckles and turned away from them.
“Why was Ilse afraid?” Burkhart asked. “And why did Chris come to you?”
Tina Hanover made a puffing noise and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “He came because Ilse’s crazy sister, Ilona, asked him to. He said they were all friends from childhood.”
Mattie put it together in an instant. Ilona Frei had to be the mystery woman who’d visited Chris a week before his disappearance.
“Start at the beginning,” Burkhart insisted.
Over the course of a half hour, Tina Hanover explained that Ilse Frei came home from work about two weeks ago as upset as she’d ever seen her. But Ilse had refused to tell her roommate what had gotten her so worked up.