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  Martijn’s phone was lighting up again, and he was looking at it again. Like maybe he’d answer this time. She prayed he would answer. Maybe her mom could talk some sense into him. Maybe at least she’d be able to use some kind of GPS thing to figure out where they were. Martijn stared at the phone, as if it would maybe talk to him without him answering it. It was at least enough of a distraction for Karin to have time to thrust her bound hands back and reach into the hollow for the box.

  He didn’t answer the phone, but he did start to pace. Up and down in front of her. Up and down. Every time he turned his back, her fingers went to work behind her. She pressed on the hard edge of the metal case. She pushed until it started to kind of jiggle. He walked up, then he walked away. And she tried again. She could feel it coming loose from the tree. She could feel something happening.

  At last she felt it fall into her palm. Yes, it was some kind of metal case. Not very large. It could only really be a memory stick in there. That was fine, because she could grasp it in her hand right now, and in the darkness he wouldn’t be able to see. She had to keep hold of it until he untied her, somehow, without letting him see it. But how?

  “Listen, Martijn,” Karin started. “I have been sitting here trying to remember. What you said about him burying something ‘in a place he loved’? And I think I may have figured it out. He loved this place, definitely. But he loved another place in this park too. When you said that he hid them before he left for Syria the last time, it made me think. After we camped here that time, we went to the other place. We saw the mouflons in the morning, but then he said we had to pack up and we went to the museum for breakfast. I think I know where he might have put them, if he was hiding something. I think I know the place that he loved.”

  “What?” He nearly leapt at her then. “You’ve been holding out on me this whole time?”

  “No, no, I just figured it out,” she said. “I just remembered that day and where we went. After we were here, at this campsite, we went to the museum. I thought it was weird that we went to the museum. He never did that. But I remember that we went walking in the sculpture garden. In the massive sculpture park outside the museum, and we stopped near a sculpture for a while…”

  Martijn looked like he didn’t really believe her. And that was normal, because she was lying. She wasn’t a very good liar. But she had to get him to untie her. That was the first thing. Only he had to untie her without noticing the little box, which she was trying to slip into her back pocket. But it was hard because her hands were tied and she was sitting on her butt. Somehow she’d have to stand up again and get the box into her pocket without him noticing. She started pressing with her heels into the ground to try to push herself up to standing. As she did that, her arms scraped against the bark of the tree. It hurt a lot, but now she had hope.

  “I’m going to lead you there,” Karin said to Martijn. “I’ll show you which sculpture it’s in. I don’t remember the name of it or anything like that, but I will remember it when I see it. I’m sure that I’ll be able to find it once I see it.”

  Little by little, she had gotten herself up to standing, at last. She was breathing pretty hard, and her hands were probably bleeding. “Just untie me, Martijn. Untie me and we’ll go there together and find it and we’ll get out of here. Look, it’s almost morning. We’ll call my mom and tell her we’re fine. We’ll figure out how to explain what happened with the other girls. You didn’t really hurt either of them, right?”

  Martijn paced again, giving her the moment she needed to drop the little box into her back pocket. He came to stand in front of her again. “I don’t think so. I can find ways to explain what happened,” he said.

  As if he’s some kind of mastermind, Karin thought. But whatever. As long as he unties me.

  “This rope is hurting my hands,” she had to remind him. “And I can’t go anywhere until I’m freed.”

  He stared at her for a little while, probably trying to figure out if he could trust her. “Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll untie you, but you’ll stay close to me, and lead the way.” He added, “No strange moves.”

  “I know,” said Karin. “I know. I’ll take you right there. We’ll get there before sunrise.”

  Martijn moved toward Karin and she did her best not to flinch as he grabbed her hands and undid the rope. She prayed that he didn’t notice the bulge in her back pocket, and by some miracle it seemed he didn’t. It was still just dark enough.

  Once her hands were free, she shook them out; her wrists had been twisted in an awkward position and they hurt badly. She took a step away while still facing him, so he wouldn’t see the box.

  “We’ll have to think of a really good story,” she said. “But you’re good at making up stories. I’m sure you can find a really good story for what happened to the other girls.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Go on, Karin. Lead the way.”

  Chapter 30

  Puzzle Pieces

  It all didn’t add up to something in her mind yet, but Grace knew her suspicions were strong enough that she had to say something about it to Detective van Dijk. All that she suspected about Martijn—maybe it was crazy, maybe it didn’t mean anything, but she had to tell him.

  She approached the two police officers and tried to interrupt. But before she could speak, Detective van Dijk said, “Sergeant Vos just informed me that there was a police raid here last night, and the people who set up the meth lab were all arrested and taken into custody.”

  “My God. Was Karin with them?”

  “No, and we have no reason to suspect that she had any presence here. No children were with them. Nor your husband or Riekje. The police team’s investigator is questioning them now.”

  “Did they have any information about Karin?”

  “What we know is that Karin is not with them,” he repeated. “Neither Karin nor any of the other missing persons from the Scout camping trip. If she ever was with them, she left before the raid. The forensics lab also got back to us. It appears to be blood on the shirt, but it is not hers. One of the adults at the camp was injured.”

  “Thank God,” said Grace. “Oh, thank God.”

  “But that still means she’s somewhere out there,” he said, dropping his voice to a lower register. “We were just looking in the wrong place, Grace.”

  Grace turned to look at the wide expanse of the forest. Thousands of acres of land. Woods and sand drifts and valleys and miles of heath. There were wolves, and maybe other predators. Why had they wasted so much time here when she was somewhere out there? It had to be Martijn, didn’t it? Was it him, all this time?

  Grace’s phone pinged, with a message from Rutger: Lotte says YES to blue hiking boots. She remembers that. That was all I got. The EMTs have taken her to the hospital now. Her parents are meeting her there.

  Grace’s stomach sank. That confirmed it. Martijn.

  She closed her eyes and saw all of it. The weeks, months, since they’d married and moved in together, all the ways he’d betrayed her trust. Since the first day the university student movers hauled her furniture and boxes into Martijn’s house. His hands on her. His hands clenching her wrists, holding her down on the bed as she cried out. His shove, against the bannister, so hard she was sure she would fall down the stairs, and didn’t only because he grabbed her again. His palm, smacking flat against her chest when she turned away from him during an argument, leaving an ugly bruise in the shape of a heart, of all things. And this morning’s thrust against the kitchen cabinets. All that she had been denying to herself.

  These weren’t mishaps; they were cruelties. He said he loved her, but this was how he treated her. Of course he would treat others this way too.

  Grace turned immediately to Detective van Dijk. “I need to tell you something,” she started. “I think my husband is involved.”

  The detective, surprised by this information, gave her a once-over, maybe trying to figure out if she had held
something back from him before.

  “You said that in these kinds of cases, it is most often someone close to the child who is responsible,” she said. “Martijn. Karin’s stepfather. He was supposed to be a supervisor on the trip, but I don’t think he’s lost. I think he’s doing something…I don’t know what or why…I haven’t figured out what is going on, but I have good reason to believe that he is a dangerous man.”

  “Okay,” Detective van Dijk answered. “I understand that you may have concerns, but let’s figure out if this is real or just nerves. Sometimes, when we’re afraid, our minds can play tricks on us. Let’s find a place to sit down for a moment and talk privately.” He added, “This way,” guiding Grace to his car, which was not an official police vehicle but an unmarked Opel two-door. She let him open the door for her and she got in while he went around to the other side and got into the driver’s seat. She understood why they needed this privacy—she was about to make a serious accusation.

  “There’s a lot to tell, but I don’t want to waste any more time,” said Grace. “My husband was wearing his bright blue hiking boots this morning. Rutger just told me that the last thing Lotte saw after she was hit on the head was bright blue boots.”

  “Okay, that’s concerning and I understand the urgency,” said the detective. “But it’s not conclusive. Please tell me: What reason do you have to suspect that he may have become violent toward the children or kidnapped your daughter?”

  She found herself trying to articulate what had happened. “This morning my husband and I had a fight. The altercation reached a pitch. He can be very…emotional.” She was speaking a formal kind of language that sounded like police talk. “He became irrational, and I really didn’t understand what he was so upset about. He seemed to be blaming me. I told him that I didn’t know anything about what he was talking about. I suppose it was his frustration that made him turn aggressive.”

  “Aggressive. Did he hurt you?”

  “I don’t know if it was intentionally. He pushed me, very hard. I slammed against the kitchen cabinet and the door handle cut me.” She reached a hand to the shoulder in question and pressed the bruise there lightly to confirm to herself that it really had happened.

  “I’d like to have a doctor look at you later,” the officer said calmly.

  “We need to find Karin first,” she said.

  “Of course. Has your husband done this before?”

  “This specifically, no. But he has”—she paused, finding it hard to say the words—“pushed me.” Somehow she felt a need to clarify who he was to her. “Martijn is my second husband. My first husband was a photojournalist who was killed by a sniper in Syria.”

  Detective van Dijk was examining her face, registering everything she’d said.

  “That was your husband?” he said finally, nodding. “I read about that.”

  An image of Karin, out there somewhere in the forest, in the company of Martijn, flashed through Grace’s mind like an electric bolt. They were wasting time talking. What if he really had taken her? What if he had her right now?

  “When he left on this Scout dropping, I went back to our house, where we live together, and into his office, and I started snooping around, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Whether there was something I was missing. I found strange things—files on my husband from long before I married Martijn. I don’t understand what it all means, but I think it means there is something Martijn is looking for and maybe he now thinks Karin has it.”

  Detective van Dijk looked at her carefully, again in the eyes, and studied her face for the briefest of moments. “I’ve heard enough,” he said. “I agree that we should not waste more time talking. He may be a suspect. Let’s go forward that way. Have you spoken to him on the phone in the last few hours?”

  “No,” said Grace. “I’ve been calling and calling, but he hasn’t answered. I spoke to him in the evening, once. After that, nothing. I thought this all had to do with the meth lab…I assumed whatever happened to Karin was the same that happened to him, to the others, but what if he has done something…what if he’s not answering because—”

  “Does he usually answer you right away when you call?”

  “Mostly, yes. Unless he’s turned off his phone.”

  “I understand you,” said Detective van Dijk. “We’re going to change our strategy now. I’m going to send the patrol cars out looking for him. But as you probably know, he could be anywhere. There are thirteen thousand acres of land in the forest.”

  “I want to go,” said Grace. “I want to go with one of your patrols.”

  “It will take less time if we could narrow down his location, and to do that it will help if you stay with me. I need you to give me his cell phone number, and we will request a tracker from his phone service. But that takes time too.”

  “I understand. How can we make it go faster?”

  “If you can manage to get him on the phone somehow, we could pinpoint his location with his GPS tracker. If you can get him talking, even for a minute, we’ll know his exact location. But you have to get him to talk.”

  Grace felt frantic. How could she make him answer? “He doesn’t pick up. That’s the problem. I call, but he doesn’t pick up.”

  Detective van Dijk thought about this for a moment. “Does he already know that you suspect him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. When I called him last night, I told him that I had found some files in his office. I may have tipped him off…”

  “That could be why he’s not answering your calls now,” said Detective van Dijk. “Can you find a way to explain that away and let him think you are on good terms? That nothing is wrong? Would that work?”

  “I could send him a text message. Maybe he’d read that?”

  “That’s worth a try. Have you already informed him that Karin is missing?”

  “No, but I have been calling and calling. If he’s looking at his phone at all he knows something is up.”

  “He may be pretending to be asleep. But anyway, that’s good. That works to our advantage. Text him something normal and bland, about pickup times, or laundry or dinner reservations.”

  “It’s before dawn. Why would I be contacting him this early?”

  “Tell him you can’t sleep because you miss having him in bed beside you,” said Detective van Dijk. “It’s worth a shot. If he believes you don’t suspect him, he might be willing to talk.”

  There was a knock on the car window, and Grace looked up. It was Maaike.

  “I’m going to return to my house now, get the dogs home,” she said. “Your car is still at my house, so I can come back and pick you up later, when you’re ready. You know how to reach me by phone, and you are always welcome to call if you need my support in the meantime.”

  Grace nodded.

  “I want to hear as soon as you have your girl back,” Maaike continued. “Okay? Make sure she’s all right, catch your breath, and then call me.”

  Grace promised that she would.

  “That moment will come sooner than you think,” said Maaike, before tugging at the leash ring and hobbling away.

  Grace watched as she piled the dogs into the back of her car, and then Grace took her phone in her hands. To Detective van Dijk, she said, “Just tell me what to say.”

  Chapter 31

  Take Chase

  Martijn had forced Karin to walk in front of him, like a prisoner on a death march. She had to lead the way. And this made her particularly worried, because the little metal box was in her back pocket. She longed to take it out of that pocket and put it somewhere safer. All he had to do was shine his headlamp down on her backside, and he’d see it there.

  They hadn’t walked very far when Karin heard his telephone beep. He had a text message, and she knew it had to be from her mother. Curiosity killed the cat, thought Karin as she heard the shuffling of his feet stop behind her, and she turned around to look.

  “Don’t move,” he said as he focused on the glow
ing screen. “Stay right where you are.”

  She did as he told her, but her hand moved slowly behind her back, and she managed to grab the box again and move it to the front pocket of her jacket. It would still be possible for him to find it there if he gave her a pat-down, but right now he had no reason to believe she had anything at all. That, at least, was lucky.

  Karin watched Martijn read the text message her mom had sent, and heard his cynical laugh. “Your mom must really think I’m dumb,” he said, shining the screen in her direction. “She’s trying to tell me that she misses me terribly now that I’m away for one night. And could I please call her because she’s feeling…”

  Before he finished his sentence, Karin sprang forward and swiped the phone out of his hands. He was faster than she thought he would be, and he managed to grab her arm as she was turning. But she yanked hard and pulled her arm loose. She could run, that much she knew. If she could get out ahead of him, she could run way faster than he could. She turned and tried to sprint. But he managed to stick out his leg and trip her. She fell to the ground but kept the phone in her hands. While he attempted to pull her back, she found the most recent call and pressed it. Dial, dial.

  The phone rang—she could hear it ring—even as Martijn threw his whole body weight on top of her, trying to climb his way up to her hand, which she held outstretched in front of her on the ground. She elbowed him and wriggled under his weight. If only she could get out from under him, she could run. She could run and he would not be able to catch her. She could tell her mother where they were. But where were they?

  Martijn would not let her stand up, though; he pressed his knee into her back and she cried out.