The Girl in the Fog Page 4

  Now, at the end of that interminable day, even though he was very tired, he wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep. He was afraid of the dreams that awaited him. He couldn’t take a sleeping pill because somebody had to keep protecting the house, the family. Although that was probably pointless, given that evil had found a way of getting in regardless. And then there was the unhoped-for eventuality that Anna Lou might come back or that the telephone might ring and free them from that evil spell.

  So he went into the living room and from the drawer of a cabinet took the albums of family photographs that Maria had collected lovingly over the years. He carried them into the dining room and sat down at the table but didn’t switch the light on. All he needed was the light from the street lamp outside filtering in through the window. He started to take the photographs out of their pockets and place them on the table, one by one, according to an order that only he knew, like a fortune teller trying to predict the future from the cards in front of him.

  The photographs showed his girl from when she was very little.

  Anna Lou started to grow in front of his eyes. The day she crawled, the day she learned to walk, the day he taught her to ride a bicycle. There was a series of firsts: her first day at school, her first birthday, her first Christmas. And then so many other moments, scattered through time. Other Christmases, trips to the mountains, ice skating competitions. An array of happy memories. Because – it seemed foolish even to think this – people don’t take photographs of bad days. And if they do, they certainly don’t keep them.

  There were the images of the last holiday they had taken together, the year before, when they had gone to the seaside. Anna Lou looked funny and a little awkward in her bathing costume, and she knew it. Maybe that was why she always stood somewhat apart in those snaps. Unlike so many of her contemporaries, she had not yet fully blossomed. She was like a child, with her red ponytail and her freckles. Bruno Kastner would have liked Maria to talk to her, to explain to her that she was normal and that one day, all of a sudden, her body would change, and for the better. But for his wife, religious as she was, subjects like sex and puberty were taboo. And he certainly couldn’t do it. It would be his turn to talk to the twins one day. But that kind of conversation wasn’t something a father could have with his only daughter. It would have embarrassed her. She would have blushed and, aware that her cheeks were on fire and there was nothing she could do about it, would have felt even more exposed and vulnerable.

  His daughter was like him, shy and a little self-conscious when it came to interacting with the rest of the world. And that included her family.

  Bruno wished he had given her more. For example, he wished he could have spent part of the money from the sale of land to the mining company on sending her to a better school, outside the valley, maybe a nice private school. But the land was his wife’s, and consequently so was the money. And Maria, as always, had decided for all of them. He hadn’t been opposed to the idea of making a big donation to the brotherhood, but he would have liked their children to have their share now and not in some hypothetical future.

  Because Bruno Kastner didn’t even know if Anna Lou would have a future.

  Irritably, he dismissed that thought. He felt like punching the table. He was strong enough to break it in two. But he held back. He’d been holding back his whole life.

  He rubbed his eyes and when he opened them again he lingered over one photograph in particular. It was quite a recent snap, and showed his daughter, smiling as usual, with another girl. The contrast between the two girls underlined all too plainly the fact that Anna Lou, with her tracksuit and her trainers and her red hair gathered in the usual ponytail, looked like a child. Her friend, on the other hand, was made-up, fashionably dressed, and looked every inch a grown woman. Studying the two of them, Bruno Kastner would have liked to cry, but he couldn’t.

  What had happened was his fault, and his alone.

  He was a believer, although his faith wasn’t quite as firm as Maria’s, and that made his guilt all the keener. If he’d been strong enough to impose his views over his wife’s, Anna Lou would be safe in her room in a boarding school somewhere right now. If he’d had the courage to tell Maria what he really thought, to express his own opinions, his daughter wouldn’t have disappeared.

  Instead, he had kept silent. Because that’s what sinners do: they keep silent and, in keeping silent, they lie.

  That was Bruno Kastner’s verdict on himself. He put almost all the photographs back in place, closed the albums and prepared to face his third sleepless night.

  There was only one photograph on the table now. The one of Anna Lou with her friend.

  He put it in his pocket.

  26 December

  Three days after the disappearance

  The weather had changed. The temperature had dipped and the bright Christmas sun had been replaced by a thick blanket of grey clouds.

  Avechot was still slumbering lazily after the excesses of the festive season. Vogel and Borghi, though, had woken early to take full advantage of the day. They drove around the streets of the village in the dark saloon car. Vogel seemed in good spirits and was dressed as if on his way to an official meeting. Highly polished shoes, Prince of Wales suit, white shirt, pink woollen tie. Borghi was wearing the same clothes as the day before and hadn’t had a chance to iron the shirt he had washed in the hotel. He felt awkward next to his superior. While he concentrated on driving, Vogel looked around.

  The walls of the houses bore religious slogans in white paint. I’M WITH JESUS! CHRIST IS LIFE. HE WHO WALKS WITH ME WILL BE SAVED. From the look of them, it was clear they weren’t the work of some anonymous fanatic. The owners of the houses had put them there themselves, as an overt testimony to their faith. In addition, there were crosses everywhere: on the facades of the public buildings, in the middle of flower beds, even on the shop windows.

  It was as if the village had been swept by a wave of religious fanaticism.

  ‘Tell me about the brotherhood the Kastners belong to.’

  Vogel’s request didn’t catch Borghi unprepared: he had done some research into the subject. ‘Apparently, there was a scandal in Avechot about twenty years ago: the local priest ran away with one of his female parishioners, a devout wife and mother of three.’

  ‘I’m not interested in gossip,’ Vogel said acidly.

  ‘Well, sir, that’s when everything started. Anywhere else, a thing like that would have given rise to – yes, gossip and idle chatter, but in Avechot they took it very seriously. The priest was young and charismatic, it seems. He’d won everyone over with his sermons and was much loved.’

  In a narrow community, hemmed in by the mountains, it would certainly take charisma to win people’s hearts … or to take advantage of their credulity, Vogel thought.

  ‘The fact remains, he was able to build a large following. The community has always been quite observant, which is why, after what happened, they must have felt somehow betrayed by their spiritual guide. At that point, the local people became more suspicious than ever, and the congregation started rejecting all the replacements sent by the Curia. So, after a couple of years, some members took on the role of deacons, and since then the community has been self-governing.’

  ‘Like a religious sect?’ Vogel asked, his curiosity suddenly aroused.

  ‘Sort of. They used to live on tourism in these parts, but strangers have never been really welcome. They disturbed things, they had customs that didn’t match – let’s put it this way – the “local culture”. When the fluorite deposit was discovered, these people were finally able to get rid of them and almost completely cut themselves off from the rest of the world.’

  ‘Maria and Bruno Kastner must have been among the most fervent of them, seeing how much money they’ve given to the cause.’

  ‘Have you noticed that they talk about their brotherhood as if it was an exclusive club? It’s like “us and them” … I’m not sure how best to express the idea.
’

  ‘You express it well.’

  ‘The members of the community were the first people to organise a search for Anna Lou. I get the impression they’ve been quite close to the family. This morning, some of them even moved in to the Kastners’ house to look after them and make sure they’re not left alone.’

  They came to the church. There was a more modern building next to the priest’s house.

  ‘That’s the meeting hall. They use it much more than the church itself, especially for prayer meetings. Apparently, the community is very influential in the valley. It even has a say in the decisions of the mining company. The mayor, the councillors and all the public officials are elected by the brotherhood. As a result, they’ve imposed a series of prohibitions, like no smoking in public, no serving alcohol on Sundays and feast days or after six in the evening. They’re also against abortion and homosexuality, and they aren’t too keen on unmarried couples cohabiting either.’

  Fucking fanatics, Vogel thought. But part of him was extremely pleased.

  The context surrounding Anna Lou’s disappearance was perfect. The mysterious disappearance of a young girl, evil striking a community strictly devoted to God and His precepts, a whole village forced to question itself about what was happening.

  Or had already happened.

  Vogel had asked to meet the mayor and one of the forest rangers. Borghi had immediately proceeded to set it up, although he had been somewhat surprised by Vogel’s request to hold the meeting on the banks of the river that flowed through the valley.

  When they arrived, Borghi parked the car in a broad, gravelled open space on which stood a disused wooden kiosk that had once, according to an old sign, been used for selling live bait and renting fishing rods. The mayor and the forest ranger were already there, standing by a four-by-four with municipal registration plates.

  The mayor was a sturdy man with an exaggerated paunch barely held in check by his trouser belt. He was wearing a thick mountain jacket open at the front, a blue cotton shirt and a tie with hideous red diamonds. His tie pin was of gold and ended in a little amethyst crucifix. Vogel didn’t betray the contempt he felt for this outfit, or for the ridiculous comb-over on the mayor’s pear-shaped head, or the moustache above his thick lips. The mayor, he thought, was one of those individuals who are always hot, even in winter. His perennially red cheeks were evidence of that. When he approached Vogel with his most cordial smile, the special agent accepted his energetic handshake but didn’t return the enthusiasm.

  ‘I’ve known the Kastners my whole life, Special Agent,’ the mayor said, his smile turning to an expression of distress. ‘You have no idea how pained I am by what’s happening right now. We’re happy that you’re here dealing with our Anna Lou. Given your fame, I know she’s in excellent hands.’

  Anna Lou had suddenly become everyone’s daughter, Vogel thought. When it came down to it, that’s how it always was, or at least it was what people paid lip service to. But when they closed the doors of their houses behind them, they’d all be grateful that this had happened to someone else’s child.

  ‘Your girl will be our top priority,’ Vogel replied, and the mayor didn’t catch the hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘Now can we see the river?’

  Vogel walked round him and headed for the river bank. The mayor was taken aback for a moment, then hurried after him, followed by the forest ranger and Borghi. Borghi wondered how close to the river Vogel wanted to go. To his great surprise, he saw him walk past the edge of the gravel, dip his feet in the mud and keep going, unworried about soiling his fine suit and expensive shoes.

  At that point, the others were forced to do the same.

  The forest ranger was the only one wearing boots. The others were soon up to their knees in mud. It struck Borghi that he would have to do another wash at the hotel this evening, although it might not be enough to save the only suit he owned.

  ‘The river has an average width of eight to ten metres and a fairly strong current,’ the forest ranger said. ‘This is the point where it slows down the most.’

  Vogel had already questioned him on a series of details. The forest ranger didn’t understand why they interested him so much. ‘What depth does it reach?’ Vogel asked.

  ‘A metre and a half on average, two and a half at some points. Deep enough to let a lot of rubbish accumulate there that the current can’t clear away.’

  ‘So you have to do it?’

  ‘Once every two or three years. In autumn, before it starts raining, we set up an artificial dyke and the dredges get the work done in a week.’

  Borghi turned towards the bridge that spanned the river. It was some eight hundred metres away. And on it stood the black van he had spotted before outside the Kastners’ house. He assumed the two men he had seen then were still on board. He thought of pointing it out to Vogel.

  ‘Ever since the mine slowed down the river to drain part of the water,’ the forest ranger went on, ‘all kinds of stuff has been piling up on the bottom, including animal carcasses. God alone knows what’s down there. The river is sick.’

  These final words provoked the mayor to correct his subordinate. ‘The council has convinced the company to finance a programme of environmental safeguards. Large sums are being spent on drainage.’

  Vogel ignored the comment and turned to Borghi, distracting him from the van. ‘We’ll have to talk to the company and ask for lists of their outside suppliers and the names of the workers who commute.’

  The mayor appeared visibly worried. ‘Come on, now, why bother them over what might turn out to be just a bit of childish mischief?’

  Vogel turned and looked at him. ‘A bit of childish mischief?’ he asked gravely.

  The mayor tried to amend what he had said. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, I’m a father, too, and I know how the Kastners must be feeling … But doesn’t this alarmism seem a little hasty? The company gives work to a lot of people in the valley. They won’t appreciate this kind of publicity.’

  The mayor was using sincerity to win over Vogel, Borghi noted. But political pragmatism wouldn’t work with him.

  ‘Let me tell you something,’ Vogel said, going right up to the mayor and lowering his voice as if imparting a confidence. ‘I’ve learned that there are two periods of time in which to do things. Now and later. Putting things off may seem wise, sometimes we need to think deeply about situations and their possible consequences. But unfortunately, in some circumstances, thinking too much may be taken for hesitation or, worse still, for weakness. Delaying never makes things better. And there’s no worse publicity than failure, believe me.’

  When he had finished his little lecture, Vogel turned to the area of open ground from which they had come. He had been alerted by a voice trying to overcome the noise of the river. The others immediately turned in the same direction.

  There on the bank, before the muddy section started, stood a blonde woman in a blue tailored suit and a short dark coat, waving her arms in their direction.

  When they came level with her, Borghi guessed from her dirty shoes that the woman had tried to walk in the mud but had been prevented by her heels.

  She introduced herself. ‘I’m Prosecutor Mayer.’ She was young, about thirty, not very tall and quite pretty. She wore no make-up and had a sober appearance. She immediately asked to take the two officers aside and speak to them. She seemed upset. ‘I just heard there was a briefing yesterday. Why wasn’t I informed?’

  ‘I didn’t want to take you away from your family on Christmas Day,’ Vogel replied slyly. ‘And besides, I didn’t think prosecutors participated in the preliminary stages of an investigation.’

  Mayer wasn’t about to be brushed off so easily. ‘Did you by any chance mention a kidnapper yesterday, Special Agent Vogel?’

  ‘For now, we can’t rule out any hypothesis.’

  ‘I understand that, but is there any evidence pointing in that direction, a rumour, a witness, a clue?’

  ‘As a matter of fac
t, no.’ Vogel was annoyed, but wouldn’t let her see it.

  ‘So I can only deduce that this is pure intuition,’ Mayer said with a touch of sarcasm.

  ‘If you want to put it that way,’ Vogel said, pretending to humour her.

  Borghi was listening in silence to this heated exchange.

  ‘There are various leads to choose from,’ Vogel went on. ‘From experience, I know that it’s best to begin immediately with the worst-case scenario, that’s why I mentioned a possible kidnapper.’

  ‘I took the trouble to gather information about Anna Lou Kastner before you got here. She was a quiet girl who led a simple life. Bracelets, kittens, church. Rather too much of a child compared with other girls her age, I admit. But that certainly doesn’t mark her out as a likely victim.’

  Vogel was amused by the prosecutor’s profile. ‘What conclusions have you come to?’

  ‘A strict upbringing, a mother who was always interfering. For instance, Anna Lou wasn’t allowed to mix with any kids her own age who didn’t belong to the brotherhood, even at school. She wasn’t allowed to go out with friends or to pursue any activities outside those considered “legitimate” according to a very strict set of religious beliefs. In other words, she wasn’t allowed to decide anything for herself, not even to make her own mistakes. And when you’re sixteen, it’s almost your right to make mistakes. That’s why it sometimes happens that kids rebel against the rules.’

  Vogel nodded pensively. ‘So you think she ran away?’

  ‘It’s not unusual, is it? You know as well as I do that statistically it’s the likeliest thing. Especially as Anna Lou left home with a school bag and none of her relatives can tell us what was in it.’

  While Vogel was pretending to ponder these conclusions, Borghi remembered the diary that Anna Lou’s mother had given Vogel the previous day when they had gone to see her. In it, there was nothing that suggested any desire to escape.