Seconds Away

CHAPTER 28

When the final bell rang, I got my backpack and prepared for the walk to Rachel’s house. I was just closing my locker when I heard Mrs. Friedman say, “Mr. Bolitar? A word, please.”

Some kids nearby said, “Oooo, you’re in trouble.”

Mature, right?

After I moved into her classroom, Mrs. Friedman closed the door behind us. “I found something you might find interesting,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I have a colleague who works at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC. Have you ever been?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her face looked so sad. “You should. Everyone should. It is horrible and yet so necessary. You go into that museum one person, you come out another. At least, you do if you have a conscience. Anyway, I spoke to my colleague and I asked her about Hans Zeidner, the Butcher of Lodz.”

I waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, I said, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Friedman pinned me down with her eyes. “Do you want to tell me why you’re so interested in this subject?”

I almost did. I thought about all that I knew, about Lizzy Sobek being the Bat Lady and living so close to where we now stood. I thought about the Butcher and my father and the fire. But in the end, I knew that I shouldn’t and couldn’t.

“I can’t,” I said. “Not yet anyway.”

I figured that there would be a follow-up question, but there wasn’t. Instead Mrs. Friedman opened her desk drawer and said, “Here.”

There was a photograph in her hand. I took it from her. It was another old black-and-white picture of a man wearing a Waffen-SS uniform. The man in the photograph had dark hair and a thin mustache. His nose was pointy and mouselike. His eyes were two black marbles.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at her. “Who is this?”

Mrs. Friedman made a face. “‘Who is this?’”

“Yes. Who is the man in the photograph?”

“Who do you think?” Mrs. Friedman said. “It’s Hans Zeidner. The Butcher of Lodz.”