"Oh? He was away last night? Where is he now?"

"I have no idea."

"So he wasn't at your party last night?"

"No, and I haven't heard from him either. Why don't you call him if you want to speak to him so badly?"

"I'd love to, but unfortunately his office is still closed, and I forgot to ask you for his cell phone number yesterday."

"Let me give it to you. Hold on."

She wrote the number down, and Fritz cleared his throat. "You know, I'm a little surprised. Your husband hasn't been home for more than a day, his business is closed, and you haven't heard from him, yet you're headed to your tennis lesson rather than reporting him missing?"

Mrs. Schneider held out the piece of paper; her hand trembled a little. "My husband and I have a modern relationship. It's not unusual for him to have some important business matter he has to attend to and be unreachable for a while. The police would have their work cut out for them if I got worried every time this happened."

Fritz recognized the nervousness in her eyes, a look that did not match the sharp tone of her voice. A clear sign of a lie. He had seen this look hundreds of times.

"Well, that's the downside to modern relationships," he said, pretending to be sympathetic. He stuffed the paper with the phone number in his pocket. "Should you see your husband again soon, please remember to tell him he should contact us. But I don't want to keep you any longer from your tennis lesson. Have fun and enjoy the rest of your day!"

With that, he went back to his car and reversed a few feet into a parking spot. The red Mini turned onto the empty street and disappeared behind a curve. Fritz pulled out the piece of paper with Schneider's number and typed it into his phone. Moments later, Schneider answered.

"Thanks for calling Schneider Real Estate. Unfortunately I can't take your call at the moment, but please leave me a message after the tone . . ."

Fritz considered leaving a message but hung up and called an old colleague at the station instead.

"Marko, it's Fritz. I just got the cell phone number for the only suspect we have in the Helene Ternheim case. Could you get a court order to tap his line? It's very urgent."

After providing the details, Fritz pushed his seat back as far as it would go. With a sigh of relief, he reclined and waited for his colleague to get back to him. He couldn't do much more at the moment. He tried to reach Mr. Schneider every few minutes, but all he got was his voice mail.

Fritz was startled by the sound of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. His phone was ringing. He slapped his cheek and looked at the dashboard clock. Almost an hour had passed! Although he had not seen his colleagues responsible for monitoring the house, he doubted they had missed his nap. There was a good chance there would be a new story about Old Fritz making the rounds at the station.

"Fritz Janssen," he said into the phone.

"It's Marko. We got the judge's permission. But between you and me, since we knew the judge would grant us permission anyway, we got started a little early."

Fritz hummed in satisfaction. He could always rely on Marko.

"Unfortunately, the phone's turned off, so we couldn't listen in or locate its position."

"Okay. Just keep at it and let me know as soon as you have something."

Fritz sank back into the seat and wondered if there was anything useful he could be doing. But his doctor had failed to inform him of the painkiller's drowsy effect. Half an hour later, another phone call woke him.

"Marko again. Mr. Schneider's phone has just been switched on. He called a landline belonging to a Leonie Kustermann."

"That's his assistant! What did he say?"

"That he's leaving in twenty minutes and they'll meet at three o'clock as they'd agreed. He reminded her to bring the documents and to be sure no one followed her. She answered 'Got it' and then the call ended. After that, he immediately turned off the phone again."

"Did he indicate where he was or where they were supposed to meet?"

"No. They probably discussed that before. But I can tell you his approximate location. Each cell phone tower represents a defined cell or area of coverage, and we determined the position of the tower he used to connect to the network. Using the signal's strength and reception angle, we were able to limit the area even further. He's currently in the southern outskirts of town, somewhere near the former container terminal where the new residential development is being built. Unfortunately, only a few towers have been installed there, so we're unable to isolate his whereabouts any further."

Fritz started the engine. "I'm headed there now. He's leaving in twenty minutes, you said?"

"Exactly, only now he's leaving in fifteen minutes. Should we send backup? There may be some officers already in the area who can get there quicker."

Fritz bolted from the parking spot. "Just let me know if Schneider switches his phone back on!"

He placed his flashing police light on the roof and raced along the quiet residential street. He called Hannes and cursed when he only got his voice mail. He drove through the city at breakneck speed, trying every minute to get ahold of Hannes until he finally reached him.

"Man, Hannes!" Fritz yelled. "What are you doing?"

"I was just-"

"You can tell me later! Where are you right now?"

"At the old lighthouse near old Ternh-"

"Get back to the city as soon as possible! Drive to the home of Schneider's assistant, Leonie Kustermann! Twenty Post Street! Understand?"

"Yes, but what-"

"Don't ask, just drive! And hurry, damn it! She's supposed to meet Mr. Schneider at three o'clock."

"How do you know?"

"Quit asking questions and get moving! I'll explain later. I have an idea where he's been hiding, but he's leaving in a few minutes to meet his assistant, and I have no idea if I'll be able to catch him in time. So follow his assistant, but be careful she doesn't notice you! Schneider warned her she might be followed. Got that?"

"Sure thing, I-"

Fritz hung up.

Hannes realized Fritz had already hung up and quickly started the patrol car. Fingers trembling, he tapped the destination address into his GPS and raced toward the city.

Since Hannes had no idea what kind of car Ms. Kustermann drove or if she would need it to get to the meeting place, he realized he would have to catch her as she left her home. He also had no idea what she looked like and hoped she would walk, because he didn't see how he could tail her in his blue-and-white police car without being noticed. Unsure what to do, he pulled into an open parking spot, which was fortunately obscured by a van but still allowed a reasonably clear view of the front door of her building.

Hannes turned down the radio. He couldn't just follow the first woman who left the apartment building. Since Fritz wasn't picking up his phone anymore, he couldn't ask him for advice either. Hannes hoped the unknown meeting place was closer to Ms. Kustermann's apartment than Schneider's whereabouts. Otherwise, he had already missed her.

At that moment, a large garage door creaked open to the right of the building, and a silver Peugeot slowly pulled out. He leaned forward in excitement, but just as quickly relaxed when he realized the driver had gray hair. Nevertheless, seeing the car gave him an idea. His colleague Sven, who was also a competitive boxer, worked in the traffic division. Hopefully he was on duty today!

The switchboard put through his call, and Hannes's hope waned after the eighth ring. Just as he was about to end the call, Sven picked up.

"Sven! I'm glad I caught you! It's Hannes. Can you do me a big favor?"

"What kind of favor?"

"I'm supposed to shadow a suspect, but I have no idea what she looks like. I was hoping she'd use her car and that I could recognize her that way. Can you give me the license plate for a Leonie Kustermann who lives at 20 Post Street?"

"Um, yeah. Hold on."

Hannes heard Sven put the phone down and did his best to stay patient.

After several minutes Sven said, "What's the woman's name again?"

"First name: Leonie. Last name: Kustermann. Her address is 20 Post Street."

In the background, he heard the faint clicks of a keyboard. As Hannes looked at his watch, he groaned to himself. The real estate agent and his assistant were due to meet each other in less than ten minutes!

"Find anything? Man, I'm running out of time here," he prodded Sven and prayed that Ms. Kustermann actually owned a car.

"Okay, here we go. Leonie Kustermann, 20 Post Street. It's a blue 2006 Golf." He gave him the license plate number. "Looks like she has quite the lead foot and has received several speeding tickets. She was also recently caught running a red light."

"Yeah, and?"

"Not only was she caught, but she was photographed. It happened just a month ago."

"Seriously? That's awesome! What does she look like? Young? Old? Hair color?"

"It's only a grainy black and white. She looks somewhat young, mid- to late twenties. She has long, light-colored hair. She also wears glasses and is smoking a cigarette in the photo."

"Sven, you're the greatest! I owe you a beer sometime, or a protein shake, if you'd prefer."

"Beer's fine with me," said Sven with a laugh. "Good luck tracking her down!"

Hannes exhaled and took another look at his watch. Seven minutes left!

Then the garage door started up again. Maybe this was it.

Fritz had managed to track down Schneider. In addition to Marko's help, fate had also smiled on him: Schneider's black BMW 3 Series, which Fritz had recognized from the incident at the fishing harbor, had passed him in the opposite direction. Fritz had clearly spotted it on the bridge that led to the new housing development where the former container terminal once stood. But when he used the access road to a construction site to make a U-turn after the bridge, a truck rumbled up behind him and blocked the way back to the main road.

Fritz jumped out of his car, waving. He stormed over to the truck and yanked the driver's door open.

"Move! I have to get back on the road," he said.

Two bearded faces turned to him. "You want to see house? House not finished yet."

"No!" shouted Fritz. "Road! I want to get onto the road!" He shoved his badge in the two construction workers' faces, and their eyes widened.

"We done nothing! Have papers! Everything okay!"

Fritz stamped his feet. Luckily for him, another worker from the construction site wandered over.

"What's going on?"

Fritz held out his badge. "These two idiots are blocking me! I'm chasing a suspect!"

The man quickly addressed the two men in Czech. With a deafening roar, the truck shifted into reverse and the driver backed it out into the street. A thankful Fritz patted the man on the shoulder and ran back to the Jeep. Gravel flew everywhere as he made a quick U-turn and sped off in the right direction.

Fortunately, this stretch of road wound its way through a desolate former port area. Fritz ignored the 35 mph speed limit as the quivering needle in the speedometer approached eighty-five. He couldn't get much more out of his old car. A light flashed, and Fritz pulled his hair. A speed trap. Damn it.

A few minutes later, he entered an industrial zone, but Fritz reduced his speed only slightly. A truck exiting a refinery was just barely able to stop in time and slammed on its horn. Fritz dropped back down to 55 mph. At the first intersection, he made the spontaneous decision to continue following the main road because the other roads dead-ended at industrial facilities. Two minutes later, his suspicions were confirmed. Directly in front of him was a moss-green Toyota, but about two hundred yards ahead, he saw the black BMW convertible.

Hannes paid close attention to the garage door as it came up. He eagerly reached for the ignition in anticipation of a blue Golf. But instead of a car, a bicycle appeared. Discouraged, he pulled his hand away from the key. But the person pushing the bicycle caught his attention.

Female, since he could easily see her large breasts, probably in her late twenties, long light-blonde hair, a cigarette in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder. Yet she wasn't wearing glasses. Hannes's doubts vanished as the woman cautiously looked around. Maybe Ms. Kustermann only wore her glasses when driving. With only two minutes left, he had very little choice. Either he had missed Ms. Kustermann or she was leaving late. He preferred risking a mistake rather than sitting around doing nothing.

He quietly opened the door. Of all the possibilities, a bike was the worst! It was impossible to follow her in the police car without being noticed, and if he walked, she would easily lose him.

As the young woman got on her Dutch city bike and slowly rode away, Hannes began trotting after her along the sidewalk. The cyclist repeatedly turned and looked around, forcing Hannes to pay attention to the distance between them and use the parked cars as a screen. Given her odd behavior, he was absolutely certain he was following the right person.

Hannes was relieved that his knee was not causing him any problems. At the end of the street, Leonie turned down a narrow path that ran along a small creek and flicked the cigarette away. After looking at her watch, she began pedaling harder. Hannes picked up his pace.

The straight, narrow path didn't offer him any camouflage, but she apparently felt safe now and only looked ahead. At the end of the path, the stream disappeared under a small bridge, and she swerved the bike to the left back onto the road. Hannes also turned left but jogged down the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Sweat was pouring down his face, leaving a taste of salt on his lips. Pedestrians turned around to look in surprise at the young man running in the summer heat in jeans.

Hannes glanced down a side street and spotted Leonie dismounting in front of a row of shops. He turned and smacked right into a jogger, causing them both to fall. He tried to get his bearings and found himself half lying on top of a young woman. She moaned and pushed Hannes away. She had a bloody knee.

"Are you blind or what?" she snapped.

Hannes turned to look at her and froze.

"It's you!" cried a familiar voice, and Hannes's ears turned red.

"Maria! I'm so sorry. What are you doing here?"

Maria looked at her elbow, which had also been grazed, and then at Hannes. "I'm off this afternoon and was on my way to see a friend. What are you doing jogging around here? Don't you have a murder to investigate?"

Hannes had momentarily forgotten the reason for his jog, and now he peered cautiously around a parked car. The bike was still standing in front of the shops, but Leonie was nowhere to be found. He carefully got up and explained the reason for his bizarre appearance.

"And now I've probably lost track of Ms. Kustermann," he said in frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry I got in your way," Maria said sarcastically and gently picked a small stone from the wound in her knee.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I was just so focused on chasing the suspect. I'm probably just a bad cop," he said.

"I'd say so," teased Maria as she pushed a strand of hair from her face. "Because if you're trailing that green bike, you just missed the owner coming out of the pharmacy."

Hannes looked just in time to catch the bike turning down a side street. "Sorry, but I have to follow her. Let me make it up to you! How about dinner?"

"I'll think about it," Maria said.

Hannes sprinted toward the side street. He sensed Maria watching him from behind and hoped she appreciated her view of him as much as he had of her.

Fritz was careful to track Schneider's BMW without being noticed and initially stayed behind the green Toyota, which seemed to be following Schneider's same path.

A few moments later, the black convertible suddenly accelerated and made a series of quick turns onto several side streets only to end up back on the main road. Fritz was surprised to note that the green Toyota was still following Schneider's car and had also picked up the pace. Apparently, someone else was interested in following him, but who and why?

Schneider accelerated and blew through the intersection by the old water tower before disappearing behind a bend in the road. A moment later, the light turned yellow and Fritz accelerated and swerved into the opposite lane. Fortunately, the driver coming from the opposite direction had stopped at the traffic light, so the road was clear. Fritz easily passed the Toyota, glancing at the driver-a man with his eyes fixed on the road ahead.