The Sinner by Petra Hammesfahr Read Free Book Online Page B

man in the sports coat went over
to him and said something. Gereon shook his head fiercely. Then
he got up and went over to the seated man. He didn't spare her
a glance, either then or a little later, when she made for the wiremesh fence flanked by the two policemen.
    Parked in the shade of some trees near the entrance were two
patrol cars and another vehicle. Gereon's car was parked a long
way off in the full glare of the sun, she remembered. She stopped
short and turned to the older policeman, who looked more mature and experienced than his colleague. "Would you mind telling me
your name?"

    "Berrenrath," he replied automatically.
    She nodded her thanks. "Look, Herr Berrenrath, you must go
back and have a word with my husband. Tell him to air the car well
and close the windows before he drives off. I know my husband,
it won't occur to him - he never thinks of such things. Our little
boy has sensitive ears, he often gets ill. He so easily develops rigors
when he has a high temperature."
    Berrenrath merely nodded, opened the rear door of one of the
patrol cars and gestured to her to get in. The younger policeman
went around the car and got in behind the wheel, then turned,
never taking his eyes off Cora. He looked almost afraid of her.
    She would gladly have reassured him but she didn't know how
It was over! He wouldn't have understood that, though. She didn't
understand it herself, she merely sensed it, as though she'd inscribed
it on her forehead in the man's blood: OVER!
    Berrenrath really did go back. He wasn't long. "Your husband
will see to it," he said as he got in beside her.
    She felt relieved of everything. Relieved and remote and
somewhat isolated - numb with triumph, as if she'd swum out
and submerged. A grand sensation, except that it was confined to
her heart and stomach. In her brain she felt a gradual, sneaking
inclination to view what had happened from another perspective:
with the eyes of the people who had gone to the lido for an
afternoon's recreation.
    She thought suddenly of her son and the way he'd been sitting on
the blanket, crying. The poor little fellow had witnessed the whole
thing. She consoled herself with the thought that he was too young
to have taken it in. He would forget what he had seen. He would
forget her too. He would grow up with Gereon and her parents-inlaw His grandmother was very kind to him. Even the old man, that
uncouth boor, watched over his grandson like a mother hen.
    The trip didn't take long, and she was so preoccupied with her
thoughts that she didn't register any of it. When the patrol car
pulled up - when Berrenrath got out and asked her to do likewise - she surfaced for a moment, only to subside at once into thoughts
of the future so as not to have to dwell on the past.

    Life imprisonment! She was quite clear about that. After all,
she'd committed a murder. She was clear about that too. She had
to be punished, but prison bars couldn't intimidate someone inured
to the Cross. There was nothing ominous about the idea of a cell.
Regular meals and a job in the kitchen or the laundry - even in an
office, perhaps, if she behaved herself and showed everyone what
she was capable of.
    Prison couldn't be so different from her three years with Gereon.
It made no difference whether she was being watched by her
parents-in-law or a bunch of wardresses. The weekends would be a
thing of the past, that's all. No more cigarettes whose dying embers
in the ashtray signalled the madness to come.
    The next time she surfaced she was sitting on a chair in a
whitewashed room. More chairs were scattered around at random,
and in the centre were two desks, each bearing a telephone and a
typewriter surrounded by a clutter of papers. The sight of them
worried her. She itched to tidy them up and wondered if she should
ask the policemen for permission.
    The younger one was standing near the door, Berrenrath beside
a large window with two pot plants