The Stolen Angel by Sara Blaedel

Author:Sara Blaedel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

23

They’ve got your grandchild,” Camilla said when Walther Sachs-Smith finally called her back. She had phoned him on the new number he had sent her in an email, which up until now he had not been answering.

Following her first interview at Roskilde Police Station and the meeting in Willumsen’s office, she had written to him and informed him the police now suspected him of his wife’s murder. That same evening he had responded with a new email saying that he had left Hawaii and providing her with the new phone number. Moreover, he would be shutting down his Hotmail account and promised to get back to her from another address once he had gotten settled in his new location.

Despite the allegations against him she sensed he still felt sure the police would help him as soon as they began to believe his story.

And now they do, Camilla thought. She sat curled up in a corner of her sofa. Markus had left his phone behind when he had gone off to school. It was in his father’s name and she was using it now to make the call. Her own lay on the coffee table in front of her, but she was too scared to use it. Maybe she was being paranoid, she thought, but after the meeting with Willumsen it wouldn’t surprise her if Nymand were tapping her phone.

After she received Nymand’s voice mail, she’d started calling Walther’s number at five-minute intervals.

“I’m coming home,” he told her.

She could hear how shocked he was.

“I’ll get to the airport right away and find a flight.”

“The police would like to speak to you.”

“Call them and tell them I’m on my way. But even if I’m lucky and find the flights there’s no way I can get back to Denmark tonight. Tomorrow, more likely. Perhaps not even until Friday.”

Suddenly he sounded so much older than Camilla remembered, his voice thin and tinny, devoid of strength.

“Do you need help with your tickets? I can book online if need be,” she offered.

For a moment he was quiet. Camilla heard only the sound of his breathing until he cleared his throat.

“I just don’t understand,” he said instead of answering her question. He spoke so softly she could hardly hear him. “How could it come to this all of a sudden?”

He paused a moment, silent again, before going on:

“In all these years there’s never been the slightest trouble with that icon. The few inquiries I’ve received have never been aggressive or threatening in any way. I wish now that I’d handed it in. The Angel of Death has no worth to me other than its sentimental value. To my father it was the history of the object that meant something, that was where its value lay, and I respected that after he was gone. I was always aware it was a highly sought-after piece and that there were collectors out there who would very much like to acquire it, but I never imagined it would come to this,

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