“He definitely was.”
“What about Frau Claudia? Do you think she was murdered?”
“No,” Gage admitted. “Her death was natural. But don’t forget, Boris, someone tried to kill me, too.”
“It could be a coincidence. And this accident of Katja’s, it could be—”
“Are you kidding me? Think of the odds. This wasn’t an accident,” Gage said, cutting him off. He clicked the key fob to unlock Ina’s car.
“What now?”
With the door open, Gage eyed the attorney. “I need to take Ina’s car back to her house. Follow me there.”
They drove to the Vogel estate, where Gage deposited Ina’s car in her garage. He entered her house and connected her phone to the charger before switching it off of airplane mode, satisfied as it began transmitting again. Then Gage had Boris drive him back to the crematory, where he could retrieve the Audi.
Boris warned Gage against doing anything rash.
“You’ve already increased your profile here in Germany, Gage. The polizei think you obstructed them after you were hit by the BMW. They might connect that to how you acted at the impound lot. If you start making waves, they’ll yank your visa and send you home.”
Gage thanked Boris. “You’ve been invaluable to me and the Vogels, Boris. When I decide to make waves, I can assure you no one will see it coming.”
* * *
Gage drove back to the estate, his mind numb due to the swirling facts and potential threats. He was extremely worried for Katja while attempting to process so many other important details. After several kilometers, Gage turned the radio up in an effort to take a mental break. After two songs, during the top of the hour newsbreak, he was rocked by the lead story:
Very little official information has come out about this morning’s arrest of multi-millionaire and former head of the Treuhandanstalt, Rainer Schulz. Sources say Schulz peacefully surrendered to officials from the Bundeskriminalamt at his estate near Berlin. Though no official charges for his arrest have been given, other sources have indicated the arrest involves tax evasion and racketeering. While long rumored to be involved in malfeasance surrounding his time as the head of the Treuhandanstalt, Schulz has never been brought to charges for any crime until today. He is scheduled to appear tomorrow for arraignment, at which time charges against him will be revealed.
The talking head then moved on to another juicy story.
Gage couldn’t believe the timing. The man had been operating with seeming impunity for more than two decades. Then, within days of Gage’s meeting with him, he’s arrested?
Too great of a coincidence?
Up until now, Gage hadn’t thought of Schulz being the man who’d run Katja off the road. Surely not, right? Not at his age.
But what about his bodyguard? Young. Impressive. He’d know how to employ the PIT maneuver. He’d know how to send her right over the edge.
But something in Gage’s instinct—deep in his gut—told him the killer wasn’t Schulz.
Whoever tried to kill her, however, was waiting on a confirmation of Katja’s death. Boris had put a media lid on it with the authorities. But now that the death certificate had been signed and certified, anyone with inside juice could find out that Katja Vogel had died in a car accident last night.
Gage used his phone’s voice recognition to send a text to Boris:
Use your connections to learn the identity of anyone checking to see if Katja died. Let me know ASAP.
The reply:
Will try. BTW, Erika has serious grade 3 concussion. Surgery when they can to relieve pressure. Prognosis uncertain.
Wringing his hands on the wheel, Gage feared the worst. For her to be in a coma for such a long period of time, in the cold, alone, could have caused irreparable damage to her brain. And the fact they couldn’t even do surgery yet told Gage she was on the razor’s edge of death.
For now, he attempted to focus his efforts in directions he could control. Worrying wouldn’t help—and he knew Katja would want him to get busy on the job at hand. His next task was locating Karl Vogel’s journal back at the estate. If he could find it, perhaps something in its content could point him to the killer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Sheriff watched with mild curiosity, Gage searched Karl Vogel’s effects for two full hours. He’d found several plastic tubs, each of them clearly labeled and containing all manner of the patriarch’s personal items. While there were many interesting possessions, there was no notebook. In fact, the only business items Gage discovered were quite dated, most involving real estate transactions from more than ten years ago. Other than that, Gage couldn’t help but be momentarily sidetracked by what he considered an incredible collection of pocketknives from around the world. Vogel had also collected old ammunition. Gage studied a centerfire cartridge, mounted in an acrylic case. Based on appearance, it had to be among the first ever made, probably around the time of the U.S. Civil War. Despite the exceptionality of the collections, Gage moved on.
The third hour was spent searching the house for additional storage spaces. He found plenty, but none containing Karl Vogel’s belongings. When Gage had been nearing the end of his search, he decided to peruse Claudia’s room.
This was his first extended visit since the night of her death.
The room still smelled like Claudia’s rose-scented lotion. Gage didn’t care for strong perfumes, but somehow the rose lotion suited her. He was struck with a pang of sadness upon entering her room. Gage slowly walked a revolution of the bedroom, recalling their rich talks and shared times together.
Beside her bed, he pulled open the drawer on the night table. Inside, beneath two paperbacks was a book with a violet fabric covering emblazoned with a “V.” Gage lifted it, immediately angry with himself that he’d
