Around them, swarms of people walked by in all directions, an anthill of anonymous bodies hurrying before the rain started again.
An anxiety attack. It was only that. Her limbs going numb, her heart feeling as though it would tear apart her chest. Only that, yes. As always. Like every fucking day of her life.
The shrink had explained that these panic attacks were inevitable, that she would have to learn to live with them. Healing from her trauma would take years, assuming that the wound in her soul would ever mend at all. But it had been more than a year now. She had not learned to live with the panic attacks, and the therapy had not helped. The tranquilizers alone provided a vague hint of calm. The rest of the time, she felt invisible and hungry eyes staring at her every moment of every day and night.
She stopped walking. She was shaking.
She took a slow, deep breath.
This was not entirely true. Since she had arrived in Paris, her nightmares had eased. Her insomnia was not as bad as before. She had even cut back on her meds a little.
Until the horrible murders last weekend.
Now she was obsessed with the news. Reporters talked about two women being murdered and savagely mutilated. Rumors swirled on the web about the victims being tortured for several days. But the police refused to disclose any details.
There could not be any connection to her own story. That is what she kept telling herself. Impossible. Paranoia.
Eloise really wanted to tell Miriam and Charlotte everything. But she was paralyzed with terror.
Tonight she would simply take another sedative, and she would be okay. She was overreacting. She was far away from that place where everything had happened. And yet, every unanticipated movement around her made her catch her breath.
She peered at the heavy black sky.
Her phone rang.
She looked at the number. She didn’t know who it was.
She decided not to bother answering it and headed home.
85
Eva waited for the beep and, trying to sound as natural as she could, she said, “Hi, Eloise. This is Eva Svarta, from Homicide. I would like to talk to you. Could you please call me as soon as you get this message?”
She set her phone on her stomach. It was all she could do right now.
“At least she has the same cell phone number as before.”
Vauvert leaned against the wall, a puddle of acid in the pit of his stomach. They had explained the situation to Erwan Leroy, who was now on the phone in the hallway, trying to get the Lombards’ address.
Eva was fuming at herself.
“When I think that she actually told me, and I didn’t get it! She’s killing these girls as a sacrifice to the ancient gods, and she’s convinced that each of the victims was handpicked by those deities in order to quench their thirst. In her twisted logic, when I prevented her from killing Eloise, I stopped her ceremony. Without that girl’s death, her ritual can’t be completed.”
“I knew there had to be a reason for Saint-Clair moving up here,” Vauvert slammed the wall with his fist. “The crazy bitch was following her victim, planning to continue her ritual. Eloise Lombard. That’s who she wanted all along. It was all there, right under our eyes! How could I not have thought of it earlier?”
Eva pulled the sheet away and slid her legs over the side of the bed.
“Hey!” Vauvert said.
Eva flashed him a grin.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Leroy walked into the room. His eyes opened wide.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like? I’m sitting up,” Eva grumbled. “So? Did you get Dispatch?”
“They gave me the Lombards’ address. It’s in the ninth arrondissement, the Caumartin neighborhood. I couldn’t get a cruiser to go there, though. Right now, all available men are in Seine-et-Marne, searching for Saint-Clair’s body.”
“Didn’t you tell them it’s important?” Eva snapped.
“Well, all we have is a completely hypothetical deduction.”
“We’ve seen what Saint-Clair is capable of. Eloise Lombard needs protection until we can make sure that she’s out of danger!”
“Don’t worry, okay?” Leroy said, trying to calm her. “I told Dispatch I was going to go over myself and make sure everything is all right. They gave me the home phone number, but there’s a problem with the line right now.”
“A problem with the line?” Vauvert asked.
“These things do happen, you know.”
Vauvert felt his anxiety rise.
Eva glanced at her cell. It was after six o’clock. Night had fallen already.
She got on her feet, wobbling a little.
“God dammit! What the hell are you doing?” Vauvert asked.
“If that girl is in danger, I want to go too.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vauvert protested.
Leroy took her elbow to keep her from falling. “Eva, you’re in no condition to go anywhere,” he told her.
She disregarded him and walked deliberately toward the closet.
“I feel great. I really do.”
She grabbed the back of a chair and coughed. Vauvert put his arm around her waist to support her.
“This is not open for discussion. There is absolutely no way you’re leaving this room now, understood?”
She pushed up her sunglasses and opened the closet door
“Have you done one thing by the book lately, smarty pants?”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Vauvert responded.
“That you can’t stand still any more than I can. So please, don’t talk to me as if you were my mother.”
“That’s got nothing to do with it. You were in danger!”
“So is this girl.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can feel it. Deep inside.”
She took out a suit a colleague had brought her to wear home when she was released from the hospital and set it on the unmade bed.
“Something terrible is happening right now. Trust my intuition.”
Vauvert chose not to say anything. Instead, he nodded to Leroy.
“Let’s go.”
“No, you guys are going to have to wait for me,” Eva insisted.
But the two men were already walking down the hallway, heading for the elevator. Vauvert rushed inside and pressed the button. As the door closed, he was relieved to see that Eva still had not come out of her room at the other end of the hallway.
He realized he was shaking.
