Even though Henning Dorn had proven himself as a capable policeman during the last few years, interrogating a suspect had always been a tedious, but difficult task for him.
Truly getting a grasp of his opponents psyche through a process of questioning them – sometimes going back and forth fluently, sometimes only his voice single-handedly controlling the conversation's flow – as well as the ability to discern the truth from a lie, required a number of qualities to handle the matters at hand: expertise, precision and patience.
On top of that, the durance of this dialog truly depended on his opposite's willingness to cooperate. However, this case was ... different.
Especially since one of the victims was still alive against all odds, sitting – unlike last time now fully dressed in a flowery white spring dress - as lively as one could be in front of him, accompanied by the doctor who was responsible for her health.
His eyes briefly skimmed over the spare information the file in his hands contained.
Name: Unknown
Age: Estimated to be aged between 22 and 25 years old.
Occupation: Unknown
Ethnicity: Unknown, assumed to be German
Found on 10th of April 2017, at 7:30, locked in a coffin, salvaged from the waters of the Middle Rhine, Sankt Goarshausen, by Dieter Kühn's team, along the wax corpse of an unidentified little boy.
Remark: Victim suffers from amnesia.
Henning closed the document, rubbing the pulsating knot at his temple in hopes to ease the pain he got just from thinking about the difficulty he would have to face. Never in his five year long career had he come across a case with so little information to work with.
Question after question popped up inside his head, but he restricted himself, not wanting to jump to conclusions right off the bat, taking the lack of evidence into account. He would allow himself to theorize after talking to the victim.
When he was assigned this case, he was hoping to get useful information via an interrogation, until he was notified that a certain medic would attend the inquiry.
Intentionally, said doctor had postponed this conversation until today, two days later after the incident, to protect the victim's sanity. Due to the her current amnesiac condition, he insisted that the interrogation was to be executed as careful as possible – the questioning only being granted a mere half an hour of time, making the policeman secretly doubt the usefulness of it all. How was he even supposed to get any new information out of her, if she could not even remember the events that lead to her situation?
Frustrated, Dorn put the dossier aside to focus on the woman sitting at the other side of his bureau's table instead. Sheepishly, she sat there, azure orbs eyeing every inch of the room, as if she had never seen an ambience as plain as this office before. He couldn't help but notice that her behavior resembled one of a lost foreigner stuck in a location unknown to them, helplessly left to their own devices. Next to her stood a middle – aged man, impatiently waiting for Henning to start questioning.
"Please keep in mind not to ask any questions that could trigger a panic attack," the doctor reminded him with a nod.
On the surface, his remark appeared courteous, but the policeman knew better than to interpret the sublime comment for what it was meant to be, albeit sugarcoated under the disguise of pretty words: It was a warning not to overstep any boundaries and even if Dorn did, the medic would shut it down by ending the conversation immediately.
A patient's well-being was something the physician known as Eduard Arzt valued immensely and according to Dorn's fellow colleagues, who have had dealt with him in the past, was also eager to protect at the expense of impeding ascertainments.
"Also, Fräulein," Dorn continued, as considerate as possible, "The police department is well aware of your condition. I'm just going to ask you a few questions I'd like you to answer as truthful as your memory allows it to be. Alright?"
Long blonde curls bounced up and down, the woman nodded innocently.
"Do you remember anything that happened to you and why you were trapped in a coffin?"
As expected, she answered with the shake of her head. Dorn noted it down with his pen, pressing on to question her further as he kept an eye on Eduard's reactions,
"What about anything prior to the incident? Your name, any family members or something related to the boy beside you in the casket, perhaps? Any minor information about your past is welcome."
Few moments passed. Brooding, the unknown woman peered into an empty space, visibly trying to force herself to recollect anything – to no avail.
"Leider nein," she denied with a purring voice, "I do not remember anything of the sort, as much as I would like to."
There was something about the way she talked, even though she spoke few, that made her sound so ridiculously elegant, tranquil even. Henning couldn't quite pinpoint if it was some dialect or just the classical vibe her soothing voice gave off. Whatever the reason, he certainly didn't mind.
"One last question, before you go. The very first thing you said, when you saw me, was the name 'Ruven'. Why? That isn't my name and I don't recall us ever meeting in the past."
While asking, he leaned in closer and folded his arms.
As much as this particular question was an integral component of the investigation, Henning couldn't deny that it was partially personal. A somewhat coherent response from her would satisfy his curiosity and hopefully clear up his confusion, although his expectations due to her memory loss were not high to begin with.
"Ich weiß es nicht," she stammered, ashamed. Slowly shaking her head in confusion, one of her hands touched her temple, indicating a headache emerging, which in turn alerted Eduard.
It was an answer Dorn had anticipated – she didn't know, after all – but it still bothered him as the name posed to be an essential key to crack the mystery. Was 'Ruven' the name of the culprit? Or a family member? And what on Earth did he have to do with it all?
"What about the boy?" she all of a sudden inquired, a surge of panic rising in her azure orbs, "I – I can't seem to remember my relationship with him, but how is he doing? Is he alright? Can I see him?"
Dorn exchanged glances with Arzt. The latter hastily looked the other way, and Henning immediately knew that they haven't told the poor woman anything related to the case, despite the possibility of her being the child's mother.
Right after having uttered the strange name and interlocking eyes with him, she had fallen asleep again, resulting into a trip to the nearest hospital, the Loreley Clinic of Sankt Goar, to get treatment. On the way, she had entered a comatose condition, which fortunately had only lasted a few hours. Diagnosed with amnesia, she had been remaining at the clinic until today. It made sense for her to be kept completely in the dark about the boy's stay.
Unsure how to continue, the policeman decided to opt for a safe, redundant response, once he saw the doctor slightly shake his head at him,
"That information is confidential. As long as our department has no confirmation whether the two of you are related by blood, I am not permitted to disclose valuable information without my superiors direction. Es tut mir leid."
And he meant the last part. Henning truly felt sorry for not being able to tell her the truth, but as of right now, his hands were tied to the laws of confidentiality.
Visibly disappointed, the curly-haired blonde swallowed, demurely accepting his rejection to the best of her abilities. "I understand."
"Half an hour has passed," Eduard intervened, helping the lady rise from the chair, guiding her swiftly to the exit in one motion, almost dragging her along, "We'll make our way back to the hospital, you need rest now."
"I'd still like to ask you a few questions, Herr Arzt," Dorn urged, his tone demanding, "Of course, without Fräulein being present. I don't want to impose any further stress on her." He showed a deceivingly polite smile.
Squinting his eyes at him, the physician gulped, but agreed out of necessity. Carefully, he instructed the woman to wait for him outside and she complied without protest, even though she seemed to be confused. As soon as the door closed, the policeman began to scold.
"You haven't told her the truth."
"We don't want her to know."
"We need her at the morgue. Maybe she can identify him, if she takes a look at his corpse."
"She wouldn't be able to handle it. Shielding her from his death is only for her own good."
"To you, it may seem like you are doing her an act of mercy, but to me all you're doing is feeding her a lie," Henning snarled. Right when these words left his mouth, he realized their harshness due to Eduard's baffled expression.
Dorn nervously cleared his throat, inwardly cursing at himself for losing his cool. He didn't like displaying his temper – not being to suppress it showed a lack of professionalism.
"I can't disclose any confidential information, but depending on whether the child has died of natural causes, they might keep him for longer than a week at the morgue. Please make sure for her to be mentally prepared at the end of the week – Eckert won't wait any longer than that, I can assure you."
Henning saw how the physician blinked a few times, processing his words.
"I'm still the one to decide whether my patient is ready to be exposed to the risk of getting traumatized again," Arzt concluded, turning on his heel, "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Dorn."
Exiting the room with a silent declaration of defiance, the doctor let the door shut, leaving the policeman behind, completely alone.
A heavy sigh left Henning's throat, he slackened the necktie around his blue collar as his fingers glided through dark blonde strands of hair. Suddenly, the atmosphere around him felt suffocating. He tilted the window, letting in some fresh air he gratefully inhaled.
As a result of stress, the pulsating knot at his temple had worsened, exhaustion kicked in like being hit by a truck and now he was truly able to comprehend the impeding force behind Eduard Arzt's nature his colleagues had warned him about previously.
He came to the realization that this whole interrogation left more questions unacknowledged than answered. Who exactly was the woman and how did she survive? Why was only the boy killed and why were they both trapped inside a coffin? Did someone want them to rot at the Rhine's bottom to hide their crime? And who was 'Ruven'?
A painful twitch at the side of his temple made him cast those multiplying questions aside. All Henning yearned for was a short break in order to pop an aspirin against his headache – and a cup of black coffee.
View shifting to the clock ticking happily above the door frame, it read 1:32 pm.
In the busy life of a policeman, pauses usually came up short, the priorities laid elsewhere. Now it was time to report back to Eckert.