mirror. Their report made its way to the stack of unsolved missing-persons files.
For the Parisian homicide inspector, though, it was nothing to be taken lightly. Those were the names of demonic deities. And they were found in the home of a missing person. There was just no way she could ignore this. She demanded to be kept informed of any other disappearances in that part of the country.
It did not take long. When Amandine Munoz, who lived in Pamiers, over a hundred miles from the other girl, also went missing, no trace of forcible entry was detected. Yet the mirror hanging in her living room was broken.
This time, a permanent marker had been used. The inscription was spread across the bedroom wallpaper:
Eva Svarta did not have the slightest doubt anymore. Something was happening. Something extremely unsettling. In less than a week, she had identified five disappearances under similar circumstances. She asked to be transferred immediately to the Southern Headquarters, to Vauvert’s unit, which was already investigating two of the cases.
This was intuition only, a series of abstract cross checks, based on a purely theoretical behavioral analysis.
But Vauvert had to admit it all made sense. At this point in the game, it was a lead.
He glanced at the large dust-covered SUV parked a bit farther on. The farm’s gate was padlocked, and there was a fence to discourage any visitors. This could possibly be it. To him, it would be a flat-out stroke of luck if her suspicions turned out to be correct, but there was a chance.
One thing was certain. If one of the Salavilles was involved in the case, he had just made a fatal mistake. He had abducted Eloise Lombard too hastily. Both brothers had records. Both had a history of violence and psychosis, punctuated with stays in mental institutions. Which didn’t necessarily prove anything. Still…
“No matter what, we have to wait for the others,” Vauvert reminded her. “They should be here soon.”
Eva Svarta spun around, swirling her white hair. She punched the doorbell. The horn blasted again.
All the while, Vauvert looked around, surveying his surroundings.
The Pyrenees mountain range, covered with verdant fir trees, rose in the background.
He had to admit that this farm, surrounded by forest, was giving him the creeps. Inspector Svarta was not the only one to have instincts. He knew they were in an ideal spot to hold girls captive without anyone ever noticing. They could scream all they wanted. There were no neighbors to hear them.
And all those shutters shut tight in the middle of the day. That was pretty weird.
Vauvert checked his phone, but there was no signal. The mountains had to be messing up reception. It was impossible to find out where the rest of the unit was. They were probably still a few miles away, winding up the narrow forest road. No one had ever bothered to pave this access road, which looked more like a hiking trail.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadow gliding along the path.
He tensed, his hand sliding to his gun. But no, it must have been his imagination. He carefully scanned the trees lining the road, all of them tall and dark. Beyond them rose the vast forests of the Ariege Mountains. For some reason, he wondered whether there were still wolves around here.
The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.
He shook himself. Wolves? There were no wolves in this area anymore. There hadn’t been for a very long time.
Why did the thought suddenly cross his mind?
“We won’t get anywhere like this,” Svarta said, letting go of the doorbell.
An almost palpable silence fell on the farm.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” he asked. “Listen.”
Svarta looked at him.
“To what?”
“Well, that’s precisely my point. We can’t hear anything.” He gestured at the trees surrounding them. Indeed, there was no sound. No birds singing, nothing at all. “I don’t know much about the countryside, but still… It’s incredibly quiet around here, don’t you think?”
“You said it.”
Vauvert shrugged.
“I know what you have in mind, Eva, but we should wait for the rest of the unit. If you’re right…”
The woman grinned. Her teeth looked like pearls.
“I’m always right. The girl is here. I
Vauvert mumbled. This woman was a pain in the ass. But she wasn’t totally wrong. And the rest of the unit still wasn’t here.
He saw that she had stopped grinning. Chin raised, nostrils dilated, she looked like a wild animal that had sensed something.
“Eva? What is it?”
The woman turned her sunglasses toward him.
“Can’t you smell it?” she asked, her voice low.
“What is it that I’m supposed to smell?”
“Blood.”
Vauvert breathed in. There was a hint of decay in the air, but the woods were always rife with that kind of organic scent.
“I don’t know. I…”
He stopped. He thought he had seen a shadow pass again.
Like the shadow of a dog?
He absolutely hated dogs.
He turned back to his colleague to chase away these absurd thoughts.
“All right, this place is freaking me out, and I trust your instincts. What do we do now?”
Svarta pointed her chin toward the door.
“We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?
She gave the door a hard kick.
It didn’t budge.
She took a step back and threw herself at the door again.
Some dust fell from the frame, but the door held up.
Vauvert realized that they both used the same methods, all things considered.
“All right. Move aside.” He took three steps back and then, stone-faced, charged the door. As his shoulder hit the wood, the planks cracked and then split like twigs. The door crashed to the floor. “There. For the record, the door was like that when we got here.”
The woman nodded, unable to hold back a grin.
“We’re on the same page, inspector.”
Vauvert drew his gun and stood in the doorway. In front of him was a kind of great hall, where he could make out a huge wooden sideboard in one corner but nothing else. The rest was engulfed in darkness.
“Okay, follow me.”
He stepped in.
Everything happened very quickly.
Eva Svarta cried out.
He understood too late what she meant-to take cover, quick.
He saw the figure at the far end of the hallway.
At the same time, his brain recognized the familiar sound of a shotgun being cocked.
Vauvertfelt every muscle react as the sensation of impending death seized him. He threw himself back, even though he knew he would never be quick enough to get entirely out of the way.
The detonation rang out in the hallway. The glare of the gunshot blinded him, like a burst of sun in pitch
