"It has definitely created a power vacuum." Even on her third pint, Janie continued to be the consummate reporter. "Simon is most likely scrambling for Daddy's old position as we speak."

"What do you think his chances are?" Minh inquired.

It was a fair question, its answer relevant not only to Minh, but also to Ayla and me. After all, Simon's eight-year-old daughter, Amy, attended the school where the three of us taught.

"Pretty good, I reckon. Peinelt trusts him implicitly, and one day he will need a successor. He's got no family of his own. Clay was his family," Janie answered.

"What about Carla?" Ayla asked, referring to Jaxson's younger sister.

"As far as anyone knows, Carla is pretty tight with her older brother, but she has got no aspirations within the business herself. She seems to love her carefree, IT-girl lifestyle. No responsibility but loads of cash and drugs. Nah, she'll be happy as long as the money keeps coming."

I was listening with only half an ear, my mind wandering to little Amy. I hadn't told anyone yet, but it was becoming clearer and clearer to myself that I might have made a colossal mistake. After all, I should have known that going up against the ruling caste of Blue Church was a stupid idea.

But what had I been supposed to do? As Amy's teacher, I had a legal duty to report my concerns. And I hadn't really done anything official yet. But the message on my phone proved that it was too late to change my mind.

Anyway, Amy was in my arts class. Such a cute little girl with her long blond curls and blue eyes. A few freckles scattered all over her nose and cheeks. An occasional timid smile.

Blue bruises on her wrists. Like somebody had grabbed her really hard. I had gasped when I had noticed them the first time.

"Alright, class," I had said, changing my lesson plan spontaneously that day. "I want you all to draw a picture now. Think about something really happy or really sad or really scary in your life and then draw whatever comes to your mind."

As I had anticipated, most kids had drawn a happy pic, birthdays, family, sweets or pets. A handful had drawn clumsy versions of what made them sad, a broken toy, friendship or family. Amy had given me a picture that was black. Just black.

"What an interesting picture, Amy! Would you like to tell me about it?" I had tried to keep my tone neutral and my expression soft despite the fact that the picture gave me the willies.

"It's just what I think about, Miss Winters," Amy had replied, her voice barely audible over the din the rest of the class had been making. "Nothing."

"I'm sure that is not true, Amy. You are a very bright kid. You think about a lot of things, at least here in our classroom. I know that."

"No, Miss Winters, you don't understand. I think about what it's like to think nothing and feel nothing."

Amy's words had chilled me to the bone.

During the next few days, I had kept a close eye on Amy. She was so very shy, so withdrawn. But some kids are quieter than others. Kids have bruises and skinned knees. It's natural and healthy because it means that they are active, running, climbing, playing. The way it should be.

But Amy's bruises didn't look natural.

The headmistress didn't want to get involved when I brought up the issue with her.

"I know you care deeply for your little charges, Tess, and that's great. But we can't go around throwing accusations at people because of a picture and a few bruises that you think do not look natural, but you have no evidence to corroborate your feeling. Simon Bowers is a powerful man with a lot of connections; we all know that. He'll eat me alive if I went up against him on these grounds."

In hindsight, she was probably smarter than naïve little Tess. I knew contacting anyone about Amy was a dangerous move, which is why I kept if from Minh and Ayla. I didn't want them to be caught in the crossfire of loyalty, should further steps be taken. Janie would have talked me out of it, trying to protect me and Hayley, so I decided to keep her in the dark, too, at least for now.

Hayley had moved out of town and was safe, and I hadn't been working at this school for such a long time for nothing. I knew whom I could trust in social services. Alex Meyers. She had been a rock in lots of difficult cases over the years, and I considered her to be something of a friend. Janie, knowing everybody's business around here, had told me herself a few years ago that to the best of her knowledge I could trust her.

Would I have contacted Alex, had I known that somehow this one conversation I had had with Alex about Amy would somehow be reported back to Amy's father and had I known how much more proactive Simon would turn out to be than his father? I would like to answer this question with a resounding yes, but in all honesty, I have no idea.

I glanced at my phone again.

Where had he obtained my number from? I had never contacted him directly from my private gadget. But Simon had obviously not wasted any time since his father's death to come after me.

Clayton Bowers would have threatened to take me to court if I had made any public allegations and had been unwilling to retract them. He would have tried to ruin me financially, a credible threat, given the fact that he had had the very best lawyers the state offered on his payroll. Clayton had only gotten his hands dirty within the business dealings. Any other problem was always dealt with in the courts of law – and Clay as Peinelt's representative always won. He figured if he used the legal system to his advantage as often as possible, people would be scared enough of him. Killing them would be overkill, so to speak.

And this system had worked well for years. The upstanding citizens of Blue Church had accepted that they couldn't take action against Peinelt's empire because they knew that only if they ignored its shady dealings, they would be able to live in peace in Blue Church.

I still hoped Simon would have the same restraint, despite evidence to the contrary.

'Stay away from my family or you'll regret it! This is your only warning.'

The message came through loud and clear. It definitely didn't refer to a legal battle. Of course, there was no name attached to this lovely piece of advice, but I knew who it was from anyway. After all, I was a rather quiet, piece-loving primary school teacher who was not in the habit of interfering with people's families unless given no other choice.

But next to being baffled as to where he had obtained my number, I couldn't explain how he even knew about the conversation I had had with Alex about his daughter. Because that was all I had done so far. After I had had a few days to convince myself that my suspicions about Amy being abused at home were correct, I had phoned Alex Meyers and told her about Amy's bruises, the picture and what she had said to me. Alex knew that we were on dangerous grounds here. One misstep and Clayton would come out the winner again, as always. So, I was sure she hadn't taken this any further yet without consulting and, more importantly, warning me.

How did Simon even know about this then? Try as I might, I couldn't come up with any answer to that question. I did trust Alex implicitly. But who else could have even known about our conversation?

Would my boss have gone to Simon with my concerns? Never! She hated Peinelt and the Bowers family. She had been on the receiving end of Clay's famous threats before. Plus, I had acquiesced when she had told me to drop it. Even if she was in his pocket, there would not have been any reason for her to inform him about our talk.

Should I tell my friends? Right here and right now? I really needed some advice on how to proceed. Protect Amy or protect myself?

"Hello! Earth to Tessa! You only had three pints. I'm sure there's room for at least one more." Ayla poked me in the ribs.

"Sorry, I..."

I was just about to come up with some stupid excuse for why I hadn't been listening when something caught my eye. I blinked. "Excuse me, ladies. Back in a minute."

I hurried towards to the ladies' room before any of my friends decided they wanted to come with me. In case you're not a female. We do this a lot. Don't ask!

Five minutes later, on the way back to our table, I gave in and, despite my resolve not to, looked again as I was passing his table. And sighed, with relief or disappointment, I couldn't have determined if you had asked me.

The man in question was still there. Hoodie drawn deep into his face. He was tall and broad-shouldered.

I laughed at myself. For a second there, I had thought I was looking at Jaxson, that he had come back from the dead. Looking at the man now, I had no idea why I would have thought that. This man was much too wide in the shoulders. Jaxson had been muscly, but much narrower in build. This guy looked bigger, not Dwayne Johnson muscly, I grant you that, but there seemed to be a certain toughness about him, even through all the layers of clothing he was hiding under, that Jaxson had not possessed.

I shuddered and carried on walking, when he looked up. For the briefest of seconds, our eyes clashed, and he shook his head, nearly imperceptibly.

I almost toppled over, just like on that fateful day on Field Kraftwerk in Germany. I was sure I could hear the faint tune of Mandy somewhere in the back of my mind.

It had been twenty years. But those eyes had been haunting me ever since I got back from that music festival. I still dreamt about those eyes every so often. I would recognise that shade of blue anywhere. After all, it was the same shade of blue I saw every time I looked at my daughter.

Jaxson Bowers had returned.

And he still didn't want anything to do with me.

I plopped down on my seat, my face burning. With anger and shame at the same time.

Twenty bloody years, and I was still hung up on a guy I barely knew. A guy who was into the love'em, then leave'em business. A guy who might have even faked his own death.

"Are you alright, Tess?" Minh sounded a little worried.

"Yeah, of course. Just a little warm."

My blood pressure must have been through the roof. At any rate, I couldn't form a coherent thought anymore.

The guy was hunched over again, sitting in the shadows, sipping something that looked like a whiskey. Had Jaxson liked whiskey? I had no idea. I'd only been with him for three and half days. Maybe I had been imagining things and this man was just some lonely guy, enjoying a quiet drink after work. Or someone drinking his pain away. Just some random guy with blue eyes. Had he even shaken his head?

"Well, take off your jacket then if you're warm, babe. We are inside, you know." Janie laughed, her fourth pint making her a little giggly. But the advice was sound.

I reached into my jacket pocket to take out my little purse that I always used on nights out because it was small enough that I didn't need to lug a handbag around that could fall victim to the God of Alcoholic Forgetfulness. To my surprise, my fingers touched a piece of paper instead of my purse.

Had I forgotten a receipt from my last grocery shop in there? I pulled the paper out. Odd. It looked like a crumpled-up bit of serviette. Definitely not from me.

"Ha, would you look at the rubbish I carry around in my jacket!" I shouted, thinking that hiding the object in plain sight was the best course of action before I found out what I was dealing with here.

While the girls started a discussion on the debris in their jackets, I opened the serviette and found that someone had written a few squiggly words on the thin material.

'Meet me outside in ten min. Please, Tess, don't tell anyone. I'll explain.

I know you came and gave without taking and I sent you away. Forgive me for that.'

All the blood drained from my face.

I didn't know whether the apology was genuine or just code to tell me it was really him.

I didn't know whether to tell my friends.

I didn't even know whether to meet his request. I had to be honest. I had no idea who the father of my daughter really was. He could be an axe murderer for all I knew, and I'd be following him into a dark alley behind a pub in the middle of the night willingly. Not the smartest move.

But he was the father of my daughter. That meant something, I was sure. His message didn't sound threatening, but Janie at the very least would rather glue me to my chair than let me go talk to this guy.

And if it was true what Peinelt and Clayton Bowers had been saying all along, that Jaxson had been away on business, it might be a good idea not to alienate him straightaway but rather have him on my side to smooth things over with his brother.

Unless he had come to kill me on behalf of his brother.

My brain was spinning.

"Jesus, Tess, you don't look too good. What's going on? You can usually drink a lot more." Janie sounded concerned.

"Probably just need some fresh air," I said, then shook my head when Minh and Janie stood up with me. "You stay here. I'll just pop out for a second, basically not leaving the doorstep. Be back in ten. Please, I don't want a fuss."

Reluctantly, my friends conceded. I walked out of the pub, keeping an eye on the guy with the hoodie. It didn't look as if he was even aware of what I was doing. Well, I didn't know what I was doing, either. Jaxson always caused me to make the stupidest choices. Then again, I would never regret having Hayley. So maybe, I wouldn't regret walking away from my friends into this possible trap set by a potential predator, because the meeting might actually turn out to be okay. Like having a kid with Jaxson turned out to be okay. No, more than okay. Hayley was everything to me.

I still flinched when the door behind me shut with a thud. I looked around and decided to walk towards the car park. It was the busiest area here. A few people were propped up against their cars, pint in one hand, a cigarette dangling from their mouths. I wasn't too keen on cigarette smoke, but after weighing the risks of dying from passive smoke inhalation versus bashed-in-head syndrome, I decided Marlboro and Embassy odour were my new favourite fragrances.

The door thudded again. I turned and saw the hoodie approaching me. The man was the same height as Jaxson, yes. But whereas Jaxson had been all arms and legs, this man approached me with a determined stride that looked both powerful and self-assured.

I flinched and started to run.

"Tess!" the man shouted, face still hidden inside the hoodie. The voice sounded familiar, but it was rougher than I remembered Jaxson's voice.

I stopped short, turned towards him again.

He had stopped walking, obviously trying to communicate that he wasn't chasing me, that there was nothing to fear. At least, I hoped my interpretation of his actions was right.