After the incident at Rhein in Flammen, Fräulein refused to speak to him. A week of no contact had passed, in which she overtly gave him the cold shoulder. He had tried reaching out to her, but before he could have entered her room at the clinic, a nurse kindly asked him to leave as per the blonde's request.
Once so close, but now estranged became the new status quo.
It didn't go unnoticed. Dorn had to explain the whole situation to his two colleagues. In his version, he confronted the blonde about all the contradictions in her statements, which led to an argument with no new intel being added to the big picture. He didn't tell them anything about the confession, as that was a matter that only concerned him and Fräulein.
When he already had enough trouble lingering on his mind and entered his office, he was surprised to see a blond male sit there waiting for him. Out of all the people he knew, the policeman had expected him the least.
"Herr Dorn, I have a confession to make," was the first thing N said. "I think I've started to remember something."
Baffled, Henning circled the table and sat down at the other end. Out of his drawer, he pulled a notebook and a pen.
"I'm listening."
The young man opposite of him shuffled his feet and fiddled with his fingers. Dorn noticed how he averted eye-contact.
"Actually, the person who put me in the coffin ... I think it was him."
Out of his trousers pocket, N pulled a crumpled up poster, which he handed to the policeman. Behind a pair of black glasses, dark brown orbs looked back at Dorn. The man had tousled hair, its color the same as his eyes. Faintly, he remembered a certain call from Eckert back in May.
"Maybe he is also the one who was responsible for Fräulein and that little boy."
Henning shoved the pen and the notebook to the side. Skepticism took over.
"You only recognized him because of the missing poster? Did you know him personally?"
N shook his head. "His appearance is all I can remember ..."
Dorn resisted the urge to sigh. He couldn't judge how credible the sudden resurgence of a memory like this was. No matter what, this was something he had to get to the bottom of. After all, a clue was a clue.
Outside, a commotion suddenly arose. As much as he'd have liked to just simply keep the interrogation going, the noise was too loud to ignore. Sighing, Dorn stood up, kicking his chair back.
"One moment, please."
He opened the door to throw a quick glance into the hall.
A person had decided to show up at the police department's reception desk, her little daughter in tow, arguing with a male and a female. Together with the female secretary, Gessler tried to calm down the desperate woman in front of them.
"What's the problem here?"
Christian turned around and once he saw the policeman approach, his expression lit up.
"Dorn!"
Henning had never seen him this happy and relieved when he entered a room. Something was definitely wrong here.
Instantly, a pair of small hands firmly seized Dorn by the shoulders and he found himself looking down at the pained expression of the unknown brunette. Her light green eyes pierced right through him.
"You are Dorn? The policeman?"
Dorn only calmly nodded his head. He already had a hunch what all of this was about and he wasn't amused.
"My husband's been missing since May," she put emphasis on the latter with exasperation and angrily shook him by the shoulders, "I haven't heard the slightest from the police since then. Do you people even work?!"
Gessler took a step forward, probably to intervene, but without breaking eye-contact, Dorn lifted a hand to signal he got everything under control. The woman gestured towards her small daughter, who coyly hid behind her mother's back, occasionally peeking out.
"My daughter has been missing her stepfather for more than four months now. Where is my husband?"
At the mention of her stepfather, the little girl joined in affirmation, her hands tightly gripping onto her mother's long, brown skirt. "Where is Papa?"
Since he wasn't familiar with the case and only had skimmed over the names by pure coincidence, it took him a moment longer to remember any names of the people involved. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see how N came walking down out of his office to join the group. He took a step back to break away from the woman.
"Frau Schrödinger, the police department is doing their best to -"
To his surprise, the policeman spotted something that sparked his interest and required his immediate attention. He faced the daughter, trying to look as kind as possible.
"May I just see that pretty bracelet for a second, please?"
With a beaming smile, the little girl, still clutching onto the fabric with her tiny hands, proudly held out her wrist.
"Just what are you trying to -"
"Misses Schrödinger, please, it is important."
Dorn bowed down to examine the ornament, dismissing the offended mother's refusal. His eyes traced the thin, silver armlet until he spotted its main feature sticking out like a sore thumb – a small trinket in the shape of a crimson rose, its thorns as black as midnight peeking out.
He had seen enough.
"Who was the one who gifted you this?" he asked the little girl, nervous.
"Who? My papa of course!" the little one exclaimed, visibly happy he had taken interest enough to ask. "Isn't it pretty?"
Like the faint echo of glass hitting the ground, something inside him broke. That couldn't be.
"What does this have to do with any of this?" Misses Schrödinger asked once again.
Without saying anything, he rose to his feet and forced a smile directed at the little girl.
"Thank your for showing me this."
N, who, like Gessler, had kept silent and just watched the back and forth the whole time, now eyed him in confusion.
"Herr Dorn, is something wrong? You look so pale ..."
Slowly, Henning shook his head. "Excuse me, there is something I have to do."
He turned to mother and daughter. "I wasn't assigned with the task to investigate Herr Schrödinger's whereabouts, but now I will. I'll contact you soon."
Without further clarification, Dorn breezed past them, steering into the direction of his small office. He could no longer keep his emotions under control and put up a calm facade. The taste of bile in his mouth spread, his heart painfully pounded against his ribs to the point he feared they might burst.
Behind him, he could hear Gessler quickly apologize, his footsteps following him closely as he left the females with N on their own.
"What is it?" Gessler asked, bewildered. The policeman simply kept going and passed the threshold to his office. "Dorn, get a grip!"
Despite his senses going haywire, Henning still heard the door click shut behind him. As he leaned against his own desk, he only dared to speak once he confirmed it was certain nobody else could hear their conversation.
"That bracelet. It's the same one."
Christian knitted his brow. "The same one ...? Just what are you ...?"
Henning circled the table and sat down, his legs a bit shaky. "The same one my sister wore."
"... And? They probably bought it at some store and -"
"Nein. You don't understand. It's the exact same one Elena wore."
The journalist was visibly taken aback. "I'm sure it's a coincidence."
"No, no. There is no such thing as a coincidence," Henning repeatedly shook his head, stunned. He buried his head in his hands. Was he going crazy? Did he only imagine it?
A few moments of silence passed. Gessler sounded unusuallyconcerned.
"Dorn, you're getting really worked up over this ... This isn't like you."
Maybe his opposite was right and he didn't act like himself anymore. Was it because of the possibility of Elena's case being picked up again, its solution in near sight? Or was it because this was the only chance to clear Fräulein's name, prove her innocence and pinpoint the blame onto the suspicious family father? As messy as his thoughts were, he couldn't quite tell.
"I swear it's the same one. One of it's trinkets ... It is – was- custom- made. I let it get made for her by a jeweler. It's the same goddamn bracelet!" Henning insisted, banging his fist on the table.
Christian threw his hands up in defense. "Pause. Your sister drowned in the Rhine, as far as I know. Are you implying that girl's father had something to do with it, just because he was in possession of a similar bracelet? Assuming he did, he's missing."
Dorn managed to look up again. "He's definitely suspicious, to say the least. N finally remembered what the person who put him in the coffin looked like. It's the husband that went missing – Herr Schrödinger. We have to find him!"
Henning heard Christian Gessler sigh heavily, saw how terribly exhausted he looked all of a sudden when he ran his fingers through his hair. The tables had turned concerning who annoyed who more, so it seemed.
"Okay, partner, we'll add that to our list. Just don't be disappointed when you don't get the results you expect."
𝕹 𝕴 𝖃𝕰 𝕿 𝕺 𝕽 𝕰 𝕿𝕰𝖄
Few days later, as a late September breeze passed by, Dorn exited the police station, grating his teeth. They still weren't able to trace down Mister Schrödinger, no matter how much each member of the department partook in a search. Every lead led to nowhere. It was as if a human's existence had melted into thin air.
Until now. He had realized something very important, potentially the solution to the whole mystery.
The night sky a dark indigo, the dim light of the streetlamp paired with heavy, pouring rain in the empty lot made it harder to fumble for his car keys. Just when his hand encompassed the thin metal, he noticed footsteps behind him.
A sudden blow on the back of his head let him fall down on his knees. Immediately, his fingertips traced to the place of the hit, red, sticky liquid running down. Pain like being pierced by a thousand needles followed right after.
Stars entered the corners of Dorn's vision, fading into a blurry mess. Before passing out, he could barely turn around to catch a glimpse of what he processed to be golden.
Darkness entrapped him and his body kissed the asphalt.
Neugier ist der Katze Tod. Curiosity had killed the cat.