Page 125

45

Sofie

Huntsville,Alabama

1950

The paramedics said that Jürgen probably needed surgery, and that it was serious. Very serious. Klaus retrieved one of Claudia’s housecoats for me and I threw it over my nightclothes, intending to go with Jürgen in the ambulance—but then I noticed the blue flashing lights on the street outside my house.

“Take care of him, please,” I begged the paramedic, as he shut the door to close Jürgen inside. He nodded at me, his eyes brimming with sympathy. “If he wakes up, tell him I won’t be far away.” At this, the sympathy intensified. It was clear this man did not expect Jürgen to wake up anytime soon, if at all.

A great wave of emotion was looming over me; I just couldn’t allow it to crash—not yet. I had to stay calm until I talked to the police, and in that regard, my state of shock was almost helpful.

“Mrs. Rhodes?” The first officer to approach me was Detective Johnson. He looked sleep-rumpled and irritated. Another man was right behind him—a younger man with light blond hair, and an equally disheveled suit.

“I’m Detective Tucker,” the blond man said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

I slowly, carefully explained about waking up to see the face in the window and running from the room to get Felix to safety. But from there, my memory was a little hazy.

“Jürgen must have run out into the backyard—the next thing I knew, there was the gunshot, and by the time I came into the yard, Jürgen was on the ground. Henry was there—”

“Henry?” Johnson interrupted me curtly. “Who is this ‘Henry’?”

“He lives a few blocks away, with his sister and her husband. Lizzie and Calvin Miller—”

“Oh,” Johnson said, eyes widening. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a notebook. Flicking back a few pages, he raised his gaze to mine. His nostrils were flared. “So you’re telling me that Henry Davis—American war hero Henry Davis—was watching you and your husband sleep? And then, unprovoked, he shot your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Where are your children now, Mrs. Rhodes?” Tucker asked, not unkindly. I pointed to Claudia’s house. Klaus was just a few feet away, watching silently. “Sir. Can you corroborate any of this?”

Klaus looked at me helplessly. I barely knew the man—even less than I knew his wife. He’d been a godsend that morning, but he wouldn’t lie for me.

“We heard shouting,” he said awkwardly. “Then the gunshot. Then a minute or so later, as I was pulling on my clothes, I heard Sofie calling for help. I didn’t see anything.”

“Why did you wait before you called for help?” Johnson asked.

“Henry was standing there with the gun,” I said. It felt like I was speaking too slowly, but I had an awful case of cotton mouth and I couldn’t release my words any faster. “It wasn’t until he dropped it that I could finally go to Jürgen. That’s when I called out for Klaus.”

“And where did Henry Davis go after he dropped the gun?” Tucker asked steadily.

“I bet he disappeared into thin air, Detective Tucker,” Johnson said wryly. Tucker shot him an impatient look, then turned back to me.

“Mrs. Rhodes?”

“He ran to the back fence and through that yard—” I pointed in the vague direction.

“Did you see any of that, sir?” Johnson asked Klaus, who silently shook his head. “But you did hear shouting. Before the shot was fired.”

“A few minutes before, yes.”

“Male voices? Female?”

“Both, I think?”

“Did it sound like an argument, sir?” Johnson said grimly.

“I was asleep, Officers,” Klaus said helplessly. “Claudia and I both woke to raised voices but I didn’t hear what was said.”