Emeline walks into the police station, not at all knowing what to expect. She left the rental car in her garage and took the metro. Only two stops, which feels like a waste of a metro ticket, but it’s what allows her to avoid those horrid traffic jams that appear to be ever-present in the city center of Toulouse. And it means she arrives before Malik.
She wants to get the lay of the land before her partner shows up so she can perhaps give him some warning if needed.
Emeline isn’t worried about losing her job. She hasn’t done anything illegal or particularly dangerous. The worst case scenario is her being sent back to Paris. Malik is from Toulouse. Getting ostracized so early in his career would not be good for him.
She nods to the officer guarding the main entrance and badges her way into the building. There are about a dozen people waiting in the reception area—what seems to be the normal amount for this city and this station.
Before she can make her way to the open-plan office where she and Malik have their desks, she’s intercepted by a woman in uniform with short dark hair and a serious look to her dark eyes. “Captain Evian?” she says. “Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”
Emeline follows, of course, her heart banging in her chest despite her confidence that she has done nothing wrong.
She’s led to one of the rooms they use for questioning suspects. Which means there are cameras. The thought barely has time to register before the woman says, “This interview will be filmed. Do you have any objections?”
As if she could answer yes and still have a job.
The room is empty except for a table and four chairs. Emeline pulls one of them out and sits while the officer goes off to inform whoever she’s here.
Emeline doesn’t fidget. She doesn’t take out her phone to scroll through her messages or read the news. She sits straight, her hands folded on the table in front of her, and she waits.
They only make her wait for ten minutes. Emeline suspects they’ve been watching her but when she didn’t give them anything to work on, they gave up and decided to start the questioning instead.
The woman with the short hair is back but not in charge. That honor seems to be with the other female officer, a woman who introduces herself as Captain Aurélia Weiss, from the Bordeaux branch, with long brown hair pulled together in a bun at the nape of her neck and shoulders a lot wider than most women’s. There’s an intelligence in her green-brown eyes that gives Emeline hope.
Diome is also present but clearly only as an observer. When the two women sit down across the table from Emeline, Diome pulls a chair against the wall. He’s neither on the IGPN’s side, nor on Emeline’s. He’s not part of the questioning but with a man his size, it’s impossible to forget his presence.
“Yesterday,” Weiss starts, “you were present at a shoot-out in a village outside of Toulouse. The witness states it was you who shot and killed a man?”
Emeline works to keep her breathing even and her hands loosely clasped. No external proof that this situation is stressful for her. “We had reason to believe Lucien Klein was followed by two men. One of them was in the same café as Klein so we decided to arrive at the café through the back door and the kitchen in order to stay out of sight of the man.
“When we tried to apprehend the man, he pulled a gun and shot Monsieur Klein before I could stop him. My shot went off right after his.” Emeline meets the eyes of all three other people in the room but none of them give away any thoughts or opinions. “Lieutenant Doubira was with the man at the time and there was a good chance the suspect would have shot him too had he had the time.”
“Did Lieutenant Doubira not use his own gun to defend himself?” There’s no judgment in the woman’s tone.
“It happened very fast,” Emeline says. “I already had my gun out, which is why I was quicker.” She wants to say that Malik was in the process of pulling out his gun but that would be a lie and she doesn’t know what Malik will say about it himself if—when—they question him. They need to agree on their stories, and avoid lying.
Great, she sounds like a criminal who has something to hide.
And she does want to hide some things—like Madame Villemur’s whereabouts and what she knows—but only because there’s something fishy going on within the police itself and she doesn’t want to show her cards until she understands what game the others are playing.
“Lieutenant Doubira was involved in another shooting not long ago,” Weiss says. “He has had follow-up with the police psychologist, but do you think this is sufficient? Is he able to perform his duties adequately?”
Is that what all this is about? Whether or not Malik can do his job?
But Diome’s large presence reminds Emeline that can’t be all. Diome himself had some odd behavior yesterday, and none that could be explained by him wanting to protect his subordinate. This isn’t just about Malik. It’s about the case. Somehow.
The problem, of course, is that Malik isn’t in top form. He should have at least drawn his gun yesterday and most likely his reluctance to do so is due to a man dying the last time he used his gun.
“Lieutenant Doubira is fully capable of fulfilling his duties at this time,” Emeline says firmly. “He is a very talented officer and a great help to me on the cases I’ve worked on since I got here.”
“What is your current case?” Weiss asks.
As if she doesn’t already know. “We’re trying to discover why Lieutenant Robert Villemur was buried in Clothilde Humbert’s grave thirty years ago. We know he was murdered and that it was because of links with corruption. We’re looking for more details.” Hoping it will help with finding justice for Clothilde while they’re at it, but Emeline doesn’t voice that part of it.
She does glance at Diome. The large man is dressed in civilian clothes but he’s one of those guys who radiate “police” no matter how they’re dressed. He meets Emeline’s gaze, his dark eyes giving away nothing.
He was there when Spangero told Emeline explicitly to stop looking into the murders of young women that have been going on for at least thirty years. Clothilde was one of the first. Spangero claimed she wanted to protect the police’s reputation, but Emeline doesn’t buy it. Not entirely, anyway. Something else is going on—and Diome knows more about it than her.
But he’s not sharing.
“And how is the investigation going?” Weiss asks.
“Lucien Klein, who was Clothilde Humbert’s uncle, seems to have been contacted by someone to make sure he didn’t talk to the police. This is why we wanted to talk to him yesterday. But somebody else got there before us.”
Weiss nods. Taps her fingers on the tabletop. “The killing of what appears to be a main suspect in an ongoing case was justified, in your opinion. This is what you are saying? Shooting to incapacitate wouldn’t have been a satisfactory option?”
Emeline meets the woman’s eyes. “There was no other option. He was shooting to kill and at first I thought he was aiming for Lieutenant Doubira. Not the time to hesitate.”
Which is exactly what Malik did, dammit.
“I assume Lieutenant Doubira’s version of yesterday’s events will be the same?”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”
Weiss taps her fingers on the tabletop one more time, and stands up. She holds out her hand for Emeline to shake. “I hope you find your missing link, captain. I feel obligated to tell you there have been several instances of officers issuing alerts concerning your work here and I will continue investigating until I either find something or conclude there is no cause for worry.”
“I’d expect no less,” Emeline says. The woman has a job to do, after all.
She does wonder, though, who the “several officers” are and what justifications they backed up their claims with.