Epilogue
Although the events of the previous month had shaken her badly, Ingrid was beginning to function as a normal human being once again. The intensive counselling she was receiving was helping her to cope with the mental and spiritual anguish Lance had bestowed upon her.
The ridiculous amounts of money he had inadvertently bequeathed to her had helped a bit too. Even in death, he was never connected to the heist in Newcastle and his death was treated as an accident. She never said otherwise. What would be the point? There was no investigation and the diamonds remained untouched. Over the last few weeks she had collected an additional 500 thousand pounds from previously unknown hiding spaces around the house. She was sure there were more.
Five weeks after the accident, Ingrid returned to Camden to get her symbol of servitude covered up. She could never see the offending mark, but she often though she felt it burning into the nape of her neck, a reminder of him and the hell he put her through. She was not his slave any more.
She tattoo artist she consulted with was a smiling and genial man named Connor. She showed him the symbol on the back of her neck, which he recognised immediately. He said nothing, but smiled to himself. Apparently, this girl was now a free agent. His own symbol on his inner left forearm went unnoticed by Ingrid.
A year later, she stood over a grave marked "Lance Teufel" with her tattoo-sleeved husband. They stood silently, bearing no flowers for the deceased.
"This is him," she offered quietly. Connor made no response. Ingrid kicked wet earth onto the small headstone and turned without another word, finally able to convince herself it was all over.
Besides, she had dinner to prepare and a house that doesn't clean itself, you know.