The Child by Sebastian Fitzek

The varnished pinewood panels trembled and the hinges groaned, but it only gave way at the fourth attempt.
    There was a deafening crash, and Stern tore the shoulder of his suit on a long sliver of wood as he toppled forwards into the stylish consulting room, complete with the splintered door.

13
    Not again, please!
    Stern froze with his hand to his mouth, staring transfixed at Tiefensee’s legs. Encased in well-pressed, pale-grey flannels, they were jerking convulsively a metre from the floor. Much as Stern wanted to avert his gaze, it travelled higher. He could hardly bear the sight of the bulging eyes that stared so desperately into his own, but it was the psychiatrist’s hands that were to haunt his direst dreams in time to come. Tiefensee’s fingers were clawing in vain at the wire noose that had bitten deep into his throat.
    The hook in the old moulded ceiling had been designed to support a heavy chandelier, which was why it bore the tall man’s weight with ease.
    Stern wasted precious seconds setting the chair on its legs. For some mysterious reason the psychiatrist was hanging too high. His feet wouldn’t reach the seat from which he’d jumped.
    Or been pushed?
    Stern tried to grab hold of his legs, but they were thrashing around too violently. He simply couldn’t raise the man enough to relieve the pressure on his neck.
    Damn, damn, damn …
    ‘Hang on!’ he called as he strove to haul the heavy Biedermeier desk into position beneath the dying man, whose laboured breathing was growing steadily fainter. More precious seconds went by, and it wasn’t until Tiefensee’s convulsive movements slowed that Stern abandoned the desk and climbed on the chair himself. He caught hold of him around the knees and lifted him.
    ‘Too late.’
    The phone-distorted voice startled him so much, he almost let go.
    ‘Who’s that?’ he gasped, unable to turn round.
    ‘Don’t you know?’
    Of course I do. I could never forget that voice even if I wanted to
.
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘Here. Right behind you.’
    Stern looked down at the desk, which he’d scarcely managed to budge. The flashing red light of the computer monitor’s webcam was directed straight at him. The bastard was talking to him over the Internet!
    ‘What the hell have you done?’ Stern demanded breathlessly. Tiefensee seemed to get heavier with every word he uttered, and he wondered how much longer he could support him.
    ‘I think you can let go now,’ the voice advised.
    Stern looked up. Tiefensee’s head was lolling forwards, his mouth open in a last, soundless cry. Although his eyes were completely lifeless, Stern refused to release his grip. To give up now would seem a betrayal.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he cried desperately.
    ‘The question is, what are you doing here? We had an agreement. You were to take care of the boy and we would deal with the psychologist.’
    ‘Why did you kill him?’
    ‘I didn’t. He had a fair chance. If he’d told me the murderer’s name he’d still be alive.’
    ‘You bastard!’
    ‘Let’s not get emotional, please. We had a friendly chat with the man, that’s all.’
    Stern’s arms felt as if they were clasping a red-hot stove. Unable to hold on any longer, he let go. The ceiling hook creaked under its renewed burden.
    ‘Tiefensee could have ended his martyrdom quite easily, but he refused, so my associates perched him on the back of the chair. I was able to watch him from here. I timed how long he managed to stand on tiptoe: twelve minutes forty-four seconds. Pretty good for a man of his age.’
    ‘You’re perverted. Completely insane.’ Stern walked unsteadily towards the computer.
    ‘Why? You really ought to be pleased. Believe me, if Tiefensee knew how Simon was able to find the bodies, he would have told me before he lost his balance.’
    Stern’s mobile started vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it.
    ‘That means you’ve got one less suspect to worry about. From now on, though, you