Page 61 of The Little Liar

The two men carried out the crates, one at a time, straining to get them up the old staircase. Gunther could barely contain himself.

“There is more in here than you can spend in a lifetime, Lars!” Based on how heavy they were, Nico figured he was right.

It took over an hour to load them into the truck. Nico was sweating through his clothes. He kept searching the area for anyone who might be watching, but there were no lights from nearby structures and no noise besides the nighttime crickets.When the final crate had been wedged inside the truck, Gunther leaned back and exhaled a whooping sound into the darkness.

“This is what I’ve waited for! The whole stinking war! Finally. Something for me!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Nico whispered.

“Wait, wait, I have to show you what kind of loot we have.”

“Not now.”

“Don’t be alusche,” he said. “Don’t you want to see how rich I’m making you?”

He held his flashlight down by his waist, so the beam illuminated his face.

“Look at me, Lars. Look at me! This is the face of a rich, new Hungari—”

The bullet hit before Nico heard the sound. Gunther’s head snapped back and his collar bloodied red. A second bullet went through his chest and dropped him like a sack of flour, his flashlight tumbling to the mud.

Nico froze. He heard footsteps approaching. Suddenly, he was staring down a rifle held by a redheaded boy, who kept the barrel pointed straight ahead as he studied Gunther’s body, now dead and bent against the truck’s rear tire.

Nico raised his hands in surrender, but when the boy saw his face, he lowered the gun. He looked to be about ten years old.

“Why?” Nico gasped.

“He killed my father,” the boy said, flatly. “I’ve been waiting every night for him to come back. Him and the other soldier.”

He paused. “Not you.”

“No, not me,” Nico said quickly. “It wasn’t me, I swear.”

The boy squeezed his lips together. He seemed to be fighting tears.

“Your father,” Nico said. “He was the night watchman?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Where’s the other man?”

“Dead.”

“Good.”

He kicked Gunther’s body. It fell into the mud.

“I’m going home to tell my mother.”

He turned to walk away.

“Wait.” Nico pointed to the truck. “Don’t you want the crates?”

“What’s in them?”

“Gold, I think. Money. Jewelry.”