Vauvert headed for the stairs. The second floor had two bedrooms separated by a hallway.
He stepped into the first bedroom. Inside was a small bed, carefully made, with a thick lace-embroidered quilt. When Vauvert touched it, a cloud of dust rose up.
“If someone had been here lately, there would be signs. Do you see any?”
“Nowhere,” Leroy said.
He opened an armoire and aimed his light at the piles of musty sheets.
Then he inspected a chair in the far corner of the room, over which a grayish skirt was draped. Everything in the room was coated with dust.
Two framed photographs were on the bedside table. One showed an old couple. The other photo was of a bright-eyed girl sitting on a bench.
The detective picked up the photo of the girl. It was the same girl whose picture was in the hallway, but this one looked like it had been taken a few years later. The girl appeared to be fifteen or sixteen. Her face was a perfect oval, highlighted by a mane of thick curly hair. Her smile was radiant.
“That must be how she looked. Before she was sick…”
“And she never came back here?”
“This is the home address she gave the hospital.”
Leroy returned the photo to the bedside table.
A quick inspection of the second bedroom, then the bathroom, both in the same state of abandonment, revealed nothing more.
“This just doesn’t make sense. We are at the wrong place,” Vauvert said.
He turned and punched the door, sending dust swirling into the air.
“We’re wasting time!”
He dashed for the stairs.
Back outside, the cold biting his cheeks, Vauvert hurried along the gravel path to the mailbox. He trained the beam of his flashlight on the side. The name written on it: “Saint-Clair.”
“We’ve got the right house,” Leroy said.
“But we’re missing something,” Vauvert replied.
He ran the beam of his flashlight along the power lines running to the house from the pole by the road.
“Let’s take this from the beginning. You’re certain that somebody’s been using power?”
“That’s what they told me on the phone. They were positive about it.”
“Okay.”
Vauvert ran the beam along the wires again. There was no doubt about it. The house was connected. He illuminated the pole again.
The power lines were also running in another direction, toward the darkness. Vauvert looked for some sort of path, but all he could make out were bushes, tall chestnut trees, and more bushes.
“Dammit,” he said. “I can’t see anything.”
“We might see better if we used the SUV headlights,” Leroy suggested.
“Good idea.”
They began walking toward the SUV. Then they stopped in their tracks.
In the distance, headlights were piercing the night, coming their way.
“What’s that?” Vauvert growled.
He quickly killed his flashlight and drew his Smith amp; Wesson. Leroy did the same. They did not have time to take cover.
The headlights became more intense, until they were blinding suns, pinning the two men like insects.
The vehicle stopped in front of them.
Leroy and Vauvert squinted and shaded their eyes with their hands.
They heard a door open and someone step out.
“Drop your weapons! Police!”
Vauvert lowered the hand that was shading his eyes.
“Oh, shit.”
“Drop your weapons, or we shoot!” the officer repeated. “Do you hear me?”
“It’s okay! We’re police too!” Leroy shouted back. “Homicide officers. Everything’s all right!”
Two more men leaped out of the car. The first man, obviously the officer in charge, pointed his service weapon at them with his both hands, his knees bent.
“I know exactly who you are. We followed your GPS position. There’s a warrant out for both of you. And you’re going to come with us without any trouble.”
61
Vauvert knew they were in deep shit.
Every precinct has its one idiotic, gung-ho cowboy. Vauvert was beginning to think he had some sort of radar that attracted this kind of moron.
“Come on, hands behind your heads! Right now!” the guy kept barking.
Still squinting in the glare of the headlights, Vauvert slowly lifted his arms, hands in evidence, so as to avoid being misunderstood.
“I’ll explain. We’re all colleagues here.”
“You’re just gonna shut up!” the officer shouted, still pointing his gun at him. “I want to see your hands behind your heads, both of you!”
This was exactly what he had been afraid of.
He could not afford to waste any time at all, not anymore.
“Just listen to us,” Leroy pleaded, spreading his arms.
“I think you’re wasting your breath,” Vauvert sighed.
“We need your help,” Leroy continued nonetheless. “We are on the trail of…”
“Shut the fuck up!” the officer snapped. “We know what you did, so don’t even think of fucking with us, got it? Pierre, Arnaud, cuff the bastards now!”
The two officers, dressed in fatigues, walked toward them. They looked very young and very uncomfortable. Rookies, no doubt about it.
“Do you know Judith Saint-Clair, the woman living here?” Leroy insisted. “We think she abducted someone. We don’t have much time.”
“The boss said to put your hands behind your head!” one of the young officers yelled. He went around Leroy and slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists. “Now get moving!”
“Guys, please! It’s not like we’re going to attack you or something!” Vauvert said. “All we’re asking…”
The butt of a gun connected with the back of his head, making him stagger.
“Quiet!” the officer behind him shrieked.
Judging by his shrill voice and nervousness, Vauvert intuited that this was a very young officer, in his twenties probably, and fresh out of the academy. If that idiot was clumsy with his gun or just panicked, he really would get shot.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Vauvert said between clenched teeth, his skull throbbing.
“Your hands!” the officer ordered as he lowered his handgun and reached for the cuffs dangling from his belt. “Move it!”
“You’re making a monumental mistake, guys,”
He turned to the young man, putting his hands behind his back for the cuffs. Then he froze.
The way he was standing now, with his back to the cruiser’s headlights, he could make out the small opening in the bushes. Beyond it, the flood of light illuminated a field of tall grass. There was a path. It looked neglected, but it was actually a path. And the power line was going in that direction.
“Wait,” Vauvert said. “Is there another house in the field over there?”
“Your hands!” the officer repeated, taking a step forward.
