front of the photo was stamped with the word
Doklad
in bright red.
That was a Slovak word she knew.
Evidence.
“What on earth...?” she began, looking up, only to find Novack halfway across the tavern headed for the exit.
She opened her mouth to shout after him, but then remembered how careful he’d been to avoid being seen speaking with her, and cursed under her breath instead. She jumped off her bar stool, threw some money on the bar to cover her bill—and then some, she thought—before hurrying to catch up.
By the time she reached the street, however, she was too late.
Novack was nowhere to be seen.
12
With Novack’s words of warning echoing in her head, Annja kept a sharp eye out as she made her way the last few blocks to her car. She didn’t see anyone following her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there somewhere, watching her. When she reached her car she got in, locked the doors and drove straight to her hotel.
Inside her room, she pulled the photograph out of the envelope and sat down to have a closer look.
When she’d first seen the photo she’d thought it might show the woman she’d tried to rescue, but now she realized that wasn’t the case. This woman was not only blonde where the other was brunette, but she was also taller with a slimmer build. She was lying on her side, her eyes open and staring at the camera, and Annja could feel the accusation frozen forever in that gaze.
Find them
.
Find whoever did this and make them pay.
As with the woman Annja had found, there were no major wounds or other visible injuries to suggest a cause of death. Annja looked for the puncture wounds that had been described in Jane Doe’s autopsy report, but the woman’s position prevented her from seeing if they were present.
She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She had no idea where or when this photo was taken. It might not be related to the other case at all. He might be using it to lure her in for some reason.
But the more she looked at the photo, the more she stared into the dead woman’s unseeing eyes, the more convinced she became that whoever killed this woman had also killed the other.
That made at least two. Were there more?
She didn’t know, but she intended to find out.
Grabbing her laptop, Annja fired it up and spent some time searching for new reports of murdered women in the Trenčín region of Slovakia. While she was able to pull up a few incidents, she didn’t find much beyond articles about the press conference from earlier that morning.
If she wanted to get to the bottom of this, it looked like she’d have to meet Novack at the appointed time and place after all.
Both excited and frustrated by the day’s events, Annja decided to call it a night. She took a quick shower to rid herself of the dust kicked up from the day’s canvassing efforts and climbed beneath the sheets, thoughts of the dead women dancing about in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
T HE FOLLOWING MORNING had its own share of surprises. While enjoying a coffee and croissant in the hotel dining room, Annja glanced at the TV and saw Detective Tamás stepping up to the podium for another press conference. English subtitles were running along the bottom of the screen, allowing her to read along.
Tamás looked somber in a dark suit and tie, but he seemed to give off an air of smug satisfaction as he addressed the small group of reporters.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here. We have two pieces of news to share with you this morning.
“The first is that we’ve identified the victim as Marta Vass, a twenty-three-year-old student from Budapest who was here on a sightseeing expedition.”
Reporters began shouting questions, but Tamás held up his hands and waited for them to quiet down before continuing.
“The second is that as of 8:45 a.m., we have charged Csilla Polgár with the crime of murder in the first degree.”
Pandemonium broke out as all the reporters began
Doklad
in bright red.
That was a Slovak word she knew.
Evidence.
“What on earth...?” she began, looking up, only to find Novack halfway across the tavern headed for the exit.
She opened her mouth to shout after him, but then remembered how careful he’d been to avoid being seen speaking with her, and cursed under her breath instead. She jumped off her bar stool, threw some money on the bar to cover her bill—and then some, she thought—before hurrying to catch up.
By the time she reached the street, however, she was too late.
Novack was nowhere to be seen.
12
With Novack’s words of warning echoing in her head, Annja kept a sharp eye out as she made her way the last few blocks to her car. She didn’t see anyone following her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there somewhere, watching her. When she reached her car she got in, locked the doors and drove straight to her hotel.
Inside her room, she pulled the photograph out of the envelope and sat down to have a closer look.
When she’d first seen the photo she’d thought it might show the woman she’d tried to rescue, but now she realized that wasn’t the case. This woman was not only blonde where the other was brunette, but she was also taller with a slimmer build. She was lying on her side, her eyes open and staring at the camera, and Annja could feel the accusation frozen forever in that gaze.
Find them
.
Find whoever did this and make them pay.
As with the woman Annja had found, there were no major wounds or other visible injuries to suggest a cause of death. Annja looked for the puncture wounds that had been described in Jane Doe’s autopsy report, but the woman’s position prevented her from seeing if they were present.
She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She had no idea where or when this photo was taken. It might not be related to the other case at all. He might be using it to lure her in for some reason.
But the more she looked at the photo, the more she stared into the dead woman’s unseeing eyes, the more convinced she became that whoever killed this woman had also killed the other.
That made at least two. Were there more?
She didn’t know, but she intended to find out.
Grabbing her laptop, Annja fired it up and spent some time searching for new reports of murdered women in the Trenčín region of Slovakia. While she was able to pull up a few incidents, she didn’t find much beyond articles about the press conference from earlier that morning.
If she wanted to get to the bottom of this, it looked like she’d have to meet Novack at the appointed time and place after all.
Both excited and frustrated by the day’s events, Annja decided to call it a night. She took a quick shower to rid herself of the dust kicked up from the day’s canvassing efforts and climbed beneath the sheets, thoughts of the dead women dancing about in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
T HE FOLLOWING MORNING had its own share of surprises. While enjoying a coffee and croissant in the hotel dining room, Annja glanced at the TV and saw Detective Tamás stepping up to the podium for another press conference. English subtitles were running along the bottom of the screen, allowing her to read along.
Tamás looked somber in a dark suit and tie, but he seemed to give off an air of smug satisfaction as he addressed the small group of reporters.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here. We have two pieces of news to share with you this morning.
“The first is that we’ve identified the victim as Marta Vass, a twenty-three-year-old student from Budapest who was here on a sightseeing expedition.”
Reporters began shouting questions, but Tamás held up his hands and waited for them to quiet down before continuing.
“The second is that as of 8:45 a.m., we have charged Csilla Polgár with the crime of murder in the first degree.”
Pandemonium broke out as all the reporters began
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