The Freiburg Project
Prologue

Helen stepped off the escalator that brought her from the S-Bahn station to the walk beside Stuttgart's Feuersee, pulling her carry-on and brushing aside the autumn leaves with her toes as she walked briskly down the quiet street, her longish wool skirt sweeping above the breeze-stirred leaves. She glanced at the little lake with its swans, its fountain and the beautiful gothic-style church that thrusts out into it. A week in London and home again. She breathed in the scent of drying leaves. She felt the tingle of anticipation as she turned the corner.

Theo would be waiting for her. She was anxious for him, for the warmth of his love and the deep friendship they shared. She was thinking, too, of his loving embrace and the unhurried, extended joy of a long-familiar lover. More, she longed for the pleasure of his warm humor and challenging mind.

And home. She loved her home. She and Theo had worked hard to make it as they wanted it and she loved to be in it.

Helen turned in to the front of her building, opened the door and buzzed her rhythmic code to tell Theo she was on her way upstairs.

Their years together had been good for Helen. She had Theo's solid base and it had helped her as she built her career. His quiet support of her career and willingness to share her cares and worries as well as his own ambitions and hopes had helped her develop an air of professionalism and competence she was proud of.

She opened the apartment door, wheeling her case into the hall.

"Theo?" she called. He was surely home; she'd told him when to expect her and he had made extravagant promises and outrageous suggestions on the telephone only yesterday.

But the house was silent. She went into the bedroom and left her case, tossing her jacket on the bed and opening the bathroom door.

The smell struck her like a fist. Theo lay in the bathtub, naked, the contents of his skull sprayed over the wall, the contents of his bowels drying in the bottom of the tub. There was a small hole in front of his ear. The gun lay on the floor below his fallen hand.

When the police had left and the mortuary cart had been carried down the stairs, the doctor gave Helen a tranquilizer and his phone number. Then he left, too. Helen knew why. Her shock had left her drained and frozen. There seemed to be nobody home inside her. Just as there was nobody home in what was left of Theo... and there was no one she could call for help because there was no help for her... and there was no reason for what had happened.

In the morning, sleepless, or nearly, Helen went into the room they used as a home office. The telephone message light winked at her, and she pushed the button.

"Hi Helen," the voice was slurred, unfamiliar. Whoever it was, he'd been drinking. "Just wanted to thank you for another wonderful night. You're the best fuck I've ever had." The message went on in explicit detail, then ended.

The light kept blinking so Helen pressed the button again. The voice was Theo's.

"Helen," he said, "I don't know who called you, and you know I don't usually check your messages. Perhaps I should have sooner, got things out in the open. Anyway, I was sitting here when he called and heard what he said. I never thought that you slept with other men, but this is one way I couldn't miss.

"When we married, I knew you were all I wanted. I thought I was all you wanted. I can see that wasn't so. You never gave me reason to doubt you; you have always been totally loving for me.

"Well, this is too much, Helen. I can't accept your sleeping with other men, but I won't confront you with it, I won't start fights. I don't want a divorce.

"I've been sitting with the good brandy to try and think. And I think I've come to the end of thinking.

"I've always loved you, Helen. I always will. Goodbye."

Helen's shock had not lessened since yesterday's discovery. She was still frozen. But this, somehow, drove through to her consciousness.

She screamed. "No! No. You knew I would never... You knew, you always did... Why? Why have you done this? How can I ever trust you again? Trust anyone!"

The cleaning woman found her later that day, still curled up on the office floor, her grief and rage drowned in exhausted sleep.