CHAPTER ONE
Darkness suggested itself across bashful starlight. Ever since the snowstorm two weeks ago, the highway leading through the southern heart of the Black Forest in the Baden-Württemberg region of Germany had become treacherous. Within view, three of seven safety lights lining 317—out. Herman counted them again from within the cabin of his hauling truck. A fading flicker of blue and yellow emitted from one. Fine then. Two out of seven. Still—maintenance teams should have visited. He zipped by the spasming light, moving on to darker portions of the road.
Herman gripped his steering wheel, muttering a quiet curse beneath his breath as he guided his large vehicle along the damp asphalt. The snow had cleared, mostly, but the cold had damaged the highway lights. Portions of the road seemed nearly abandoned. Herman knew friends—other drivers—who were avoiding this section of highway. But he couldn’t afford the time wasted. No, not now. He drove along the lonely, poorly illuminated road, a swirl of browns and greens passing by his windows as he zipped through the forest, testing his vehicle’s capacity for urgency. He’d already passed Rotmeer, and could see Feldberg Mountain in the distance.
Couldn’t be late. Not tonight. He had to make the return trip in time to get some sleep before the custody hearing tomorrow.
Herman frowned to himself at the thought of what the morning heralded, and, for the briefest moments, he glanced down to the picture of the young, hazel-eyed girl taped to his dashboard. Some of his frustrations melted as he looked at his daughter suspended in time.
Only a brief moment of inattention… He looked up again. And yelled.
Someone was standing in the middle of the road.
Herman went cold, slamming on the brakes, twisting the steering wheel to avoid the person.
The tires screeched, protesting the sudden change in motion. Herman could feel the cabin threatening to tip. His heart had already escaped his chest and seemed to be twisting somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. His scream was lost in the sound of the whining brakes. The truck veered off the road, slamming into one of the light poles. The pole crumpled, and glass from the light shattered, scattering across his windshield with insistent taps.
Three of seven lights. Herman sat there, trembling, blood dripping down his nose. It took him a moment to fully realize the airbag had deployed. His hands still gripped the steering wheel. For a moment, it almost felt like he couldn’t let go. He stared at the back of his knuckles. His vision was blurry, adrenaline pulsing through him. His hands were white. A spectacle of red dripped against the back of his hand. He reached up and felt warm liquid seeping from his nose.
He shook his head and blinked a few times. Had he hit the person?
He looked through the windshield once more, and was struck by how lonely and desolate these parts of the forests were. No one around. He glanced up and down the side of the road, given a good view from where he’d crashed, and noticed no cars parked on the shoulder. A slow trickle of fear probed down his spine.
Herman wanted to lock himself in the cabin, call the police. But a small niggling sense of worry caused him to glance down at the picture on his dashboard once more. The person in the road had looked like a young girl. A blossom of courage propelled him toward the edge of his seat. He unbuckled, pushed away the airbag, and then opened the door.
Normally, though middle-aged, he was spry enough to drop from the cabin in one leap; now, though, with trembling footfalls, he used the metal step leading to the ground and eased himself from the cabin.
The cold settled on him like a blanket. The chill winds seemed to have picked up. Above him, the safety light he’d struck was dead. The one across the road, a few hundred yards back, still sputtered and blinked blue.
It was in this haze of pulsing light that he spotted the person again. A woman. A girl. Perhaps something in between. Young, certainly no older than twenty. She stood in the middle of the road, not having moved an inch from when he’d first spotted her. Standing. Standing was good. It meant she was still alive.
“Hello? Fräulein!” he called. “Are you okay?” He raised a hand, gesturing at where she stood in the middle of the highway.
She didn’t turn. She continued to stare, eyes fixed ahead, glaring down the open road.
Herman glanced one way then the other, his eyes tracking the road curling around the forests and moving through a steady incline. Dark branches with bristling leaves extended over the shoulder of the road. Other limbs had been hacked back, kept away from telephone lines and from hazarding the highway.
Where had the girl come from? There was no vehicle in sight.
Herman winced, feeling a bruise forming along his ribs from where the airbag had punched him. His nose still trickled with blood, and he could feel it pooling in the crevice of his upper lip. He detected the faintest taste of bitter salt as the blood seeped down the corner of his mouth. He reached up and wiped it away, still moving cautiously toward the girl in the middle of the road.
His truck was still bent around the light post. The post itself had fared far worse than the truck. He would still be able to drive. The trucker continued forward, one hand extended in a calming gesture. The girl still didn’t look his way.
And that’s when he spotted the blood.
Rivulets of crimson dripped down her arms to her fingertips and pattered against the ground. Her feet were cracked and calloused, and covered with welts and cuts. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and it looked like she’d run through the forest judging by the state of her. There were small rips in her thin, gray T-shirt. There were cuts along her arm. She wore only underwear, with no trousers.
Herman felt another chill, and he stared at the girl, looking her in the eyes. At last, she seemed to notice him, as if snapping from a daze; she looked at him, and began to scream.
The sound echoed in the hills and the forests, sweeping across the trees and spreading over the highway like a glaze of ice. With it came a frigid, horrible sensation. Herman shook his head, refusing to allow himself to listen to his gut. His instincts were telling him to flee, to run back to his truck, get in the cabin, and zip away, leaving this problem behind him. He noticed the girl’s hands were bloodied too, and, tentatively, he called out, “Geht’s dir gut? Are you all right?”
She was shaking her head though, trembling, her chin jutting forward. Her eyes hadn’t settled on him until now, but now it seemed like they wanted to see nothing else. She continued to stare at him, desperate, her gaze pleading. And at last, she spoke.
If frostbite had a tone, it would’ve echoed in the girl’s words. Her voice croaked and stretched with splinters of sound. “Please,” she said, desperately. Her German strained with an American accent. He winced, trying to understand. “Please, don’t let them take me back. Please don’t let them take me back!”
Herman was now near her. He extended a hand, hovering it over her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he should touch her. He wanted to comfort her, to let her know it was going to be okay. But at the same time, he didn’t want to scare her. So he lowered his hand and tried to convey, with his eyes, a warmth and gentleness. He could feel his nose still bleeding, but ignored it.
“Where did you come from, child?”
The girl pulled at the hem of her shirt, as if suddenly realizing she was standing half naked in the middle of the highway. She glanced around, staring toward the trees.