had to work together, they almost came to blows.
Fortunately, Leroy anticipated the situation. He stepped between the two, as he often did, brandishing the shield of his usual good spirits.
“Everyone ready for a bit of a morning workout?”
It was not entirely a joke. Before even reaching the apartment building, they had to make their way through throngs of police officers, go around the forensic department van in front of the entrance, and ask the two technicians to move aside so they could enter the hall. The obstacle course did not end there. Stepping inside the building was like entering an ant colony. The dancers had already started their confused ballet, labeling, taking pictures, coming and going in just about every direction.
“I so hate this useless charade,” Eva mumbled.
“Any idea what we’re in for up there?” Leroy asked as he shook off his rain-soaked coat.
“You know the boss,” Deveraux said. “He hardly even gave me the address.”
This time, the three of them shared knowing smiles. The chief’s economy of words was legend in the police division.
They reached the second-floor landing.
As they planted themselves in front of the open door, any traces of smiles left their faces.
It was as though an insane artist had painted the room red. Blood was splashed everywhere, including the ceiling, and it was not even completely dry.
“Oh,” Leroy grunted.
“Fuck me,” Deveraux muttered.
Eva did not say anything. A painful ball had wedged in her throat.
Seeing them on the threshold, Chief Vincent Garenne went over to greet them. He was in charge of the district precinct. Well into his forties, he was tall and wiry, and the gray suit he wore, added to his salt-and-pepper hair, made him look ten years older. Straight as an arrow, by all accounts. The kind of guy who didn’t take bullshit from anyone. Eva had come across him many times. He always gave her the impression that he was a good cop.
At the moment, he looked like he was about to lose his breakfast.
“Welcome to hell, folks,” he said, expressionless.
Eva spotted the victim behind him. A dead girl, hoisted in the air, her legs spread apart. She was bloody all over.
“See what I mean?” he added. “It’s a real slaughterhouse in here.”
Eva breathed slowly through her mouth to tamp down the pestilential stench.
“Who’s the victim?” she asked, her voice perfectly controlled.
“Barbara Meyer. Nineteen years old, student. This is her place. It all happened sometime this week. No evidence of a break-in, though.”
Eva kept her eyes on him to avoid looking at the mutilated body. That would come soon enough.
“Witnesses?”
“Only the downstairs neighbor. Anne-Lise Monbailly. She’s a student, too. She had been with her family in Tours since Wednesday, and she got back this morning, just before six. When she got to her door, she caught a whiff. She came up to take a look. She found the door unlocked. And here we are. She called us right away, totally hysterical. She’s still in shock.” The man paused, obviously lost himself. “We get about ten homicides a year in this area. But I’ve never seen anything so brutal.”
Erwan Leroy knew what he meant.
“We have the case now, so we can take it from here, all right?”
“You bet you can,” Garenne said. “I’ve never been happier to pass the torch.”
Eva, for her part, tried to clear her mind. The baton passing between the two police units was now official. It was their turn to take over.
She stepped into the room.
The victim was on the bed: a naked figure, her body tilted back, her legs raised toward the ceiling, held by what appeared to be chains hooked to a beam above the bed. Her arms were pulled outward, her wrists tied with straps, so that her body was laid out in the shape of a star. Even from where she stood, Eva could clearly see that the victim had no skin left on her face.
A coincidence?
Eva moved closer to the body.
Upside down. The legs tied up. The skin of the face removed.
Such a coincidence?
“You’ve got to be one sick motherfucker to do something like that,” Deveraux mumbled.
Eva did not reply. In her mind’s eye, the picture of other bodies superimposed themselves on the scene. Other faceless victims hanging upside down. Bled to death.
It was one year ago. One year already.
Even so, those killers were dead, both of them. She tried to dismiss the thought. There was no way this could have any connection to them. She repeated it to herself.
“You think that this is the end? It’s all really over?” Vauvert had asked her.
Eva clenched her jaw. Of course not, she never thought so. She had not answered him at that moment or later on, the few times they spoke on the phone. She would not have known what to tell him. Deep down, part of her was convinced that the nightmare had not come to an end there. They would just have a temporary break. But she did not tell anyone. She wanted to be wrong, just once.
Camera flashes were going off all around, and she squinted in spite of her sunglasses.
“Hey! Careful not to touch anything, please!” shouted the woman crouched next to the body.
The three Homicide Unit officers made sure to keep their feet on the narrow plastic strip that ran across the apartment.
“My name is Pauline Chadoutaud,” the woman said. “I’m the forensic pathologist.”
She was petite and looked surprisingly young for the job. Her luxuriant blond hair was bound up in a bun and covered with a transparent cap. Turning their way, she greeted them with a warm smile and electric-blue eyes.
Eva smiled back, though a bit more aloof.
“Hi Pauline. I’m Inspector Svarta. This is Inspector Deveraux and Detective Leroy. Homicide Unit. We’re taking over from Chief Garenne.”
“No problem, I was just starting the preliminary exam,” the pathologist said, turning back to the victim.
With her latex-gloved fingers, she turned the dead woman’s head to the right, examining the skinned face and the wound that split the throat in two.
Eva swallowed. The stench was overpowering.
“So? What do you think?” Jean-Luc Deveraux asked in a rush, obviously uncomfortable.
“That the devil does exist,” the forensic pathologist sighed as she tilted the bloody head the other way.
Eva liked her, all things considered. “Yes he does,” she answered.
“Well, apart from that, I can tell you that she died about twenty-four hours ago. That is, sometime between four and six a.m. on Friday morning. But before that, this girl was tortured, and the torture lasted for a while, judging by the many lesions on her body. None of these wounds were fatal. Whoever did it wanted to make the pleasure last. Moreover, it seems that the skin on her face was removed while she was still alive. In my opinion, it’s the massive loss of blood that caused her death, but I won’t be able to give you precise details until after the autopsy.”
“Did her assailant leave any traces that might be useful to us?” Leroy asked.
“I don’t think so. We’re dealing with a meticulous person here. He left nothing on the body. Well, except for this.”
The pathologist rested her fingers on the open jaw. There was something in the girl’s mouth. Eva leaned in for a better view. She made out a black plastic handle.
“What is it?”
“A knife. It was shoved down her throat.”
