Which meant the guilt hurt even more when a hard winter sun flooded through the flimsy curtains of the gable window and brought the bleak world with it.Exhaustion, physical and nervous, had taken its toll. The intriguing but evasive police officer Vos baffled her. Did he know or suspect more than he was saying? Or were the men and women in Marnixstraat just as much in the dark as she?With a low curse she rolled out of bed, checked her phone straight away. The message light was flashing. Even the ring hadn’t roused her. She fetched the voicemail: Vos, sounding friendly, determined and vague. They’d heard nothing more from the kidnapper. A team of forensic officers was still trawling through the boat in Westerdok. He wanted her to think about Henk Kuyper and whether he really was the man who’d visited her. They needed to make sure before approaching him.Could she offer them that certainty? Going through the daily motions that seemed so strange without Natalya, washing, dressing, the same black jeans, shirt and jumper, she wondered.
