Everything had sped up for Lucie since leaving L’Haÿ-les-Roses. She had only a few hours to do what would normally have taken someone two days. Her plane was scheduled to leave at 7:10 that evening from Lille-Lesquin airport. The administrative services where Sharko worked had taken care of her arrangements as if by magic: paperwork, travel authorization from the higher-ups, e-tickets sent to her in-box. The Boeing would land at 8:45 p.m. Quebec time. A room was reserved for her at the Delta Montreal, a three-star hotel located between Mount Royal and the Old Port, a short walk from the archives. She had just printed out the international letter rogatory, which had arrived only moments before via e-mail. Strictly within the confines of the investigation, they were allowing her four full days on site. Four days was a lot of time to look through old documents. They’d been liberal.
As Lucie was returning home, she thought of Sharko’s last words to her on the train platform at Bourg-la-Reine: “Take care of yourself, kid.” The words had echoed in the hollow of his throat like pebbles rattling against each other. They had shaken hands—thumb above for him, smiles exchanged, 2–0—then, like the first time, Sharko had walked away, shoulders hunched, without turning around. With a pinch in her heart, Lucie had stared for a long time after his broad silhouette as it disappeared anonymously into the stairway.
After a stop in the bathroom, she packed her bag with the bare minimum, stuffed it in the trunk of her car, took out the trash, and headed for the Oscar Lambret Medical Building. She was more excited than ever. Canada, an international case…for her, the “little lady cop” who just a few years before was filling out forms in police headquarters at Dunkirk. Somewhere in there, she felt proud of her rise in the world.
Lucie entered the hospital room with two black coffees bought from the vending machine. Her mother was still there, faithful at her post. She and Juliette were playing with the gaming console. Coloring books lay open on the bed. The little girl gave her a wry smile. She was beaming, and her skin had finally regained the honey color children of her age should have. The doctor had officially announced that she’d be discharged the next morning. Lucie hugged her child in her arms.
“Tomorrow morning? That’s wonderful, darling!”
After a ton of kisses, Juliette went back to her game, all cheerful. Lucie and Marie stood at the doorway to the room, coffees in hand. Lucie took a deep breath and blurted out:
“Mom, I’m afraid I have to ask you to watch Juliette for at least four more days—four days and nights, I mean. I’m really sorry. This has been a really difficult case and—”
“Where are you off to now?”
“Montreal.”
Marie Henebelle had a gift for making you feel guilty with a look.
“Going abroad now? Nothing dangerous, I hope.”
“No, no. I just have to search through some old archives. Nothing very exciting, but somebody has to do it.”
“And of course that somebody is you.”
“You might say that.”
Marie knew her daughter too well; she knew that even if Lucie were going off to face the devil himself, she’d claim she was just out to pick mushrooms. She jerked her chin interrogatively at a gray stuffed animal, a hippopotamus.
“Your ex came by.”
“My ex…You mean Ludovic?”
“Have there been others?”
Lucie remained silent. Marie looked sadly at Juliette.
“You should have seen how much fun those two had together. Ludovic spent two hours here with her. He was going home, and he said that if you want to call him, you can. You should.”
“Mom…”
Marie seized upon Lucie’s gaze and didn’t let go.
“You need a man, Lucie. Someone to get you settled down, who can bring you back to reality when you need it. Ludovic is a good boy.”
“Yeah, the only problem is I don’t love him.”
“You never gave yourself time to love him! Your twins spend more time with their grandmother than with their mother. I’m the one watching and raising them. Does that seem normal to you?”
Ultimately, Marie was right. Lucie thought again about Sharko’s view of the job: a devouring monster that ultimately spat out ruined or damaged families.
“After this case, Mom. I promise I’ll slow down and think about it.”
“Think about it—right…Like after the last case. And the one before that, and before that…”
Her eyes were filled with reproach, along with a kind of pity.
“It’s too late for me to remake my daughter. You’re set in stone, missy, and it takes a pickax to change anything in that hard head of yours.”
“At least I know where I got it from.”
Lucie managed to wrest a half smile from her mother, who caressed her cheek with her hand.
“Don’t worry about it. Let me just make a quick stop at the house. What time do you have to leave here?”
“Five at the latest. Just enough time to get to the airport and check in.”
“That leaves you three short hours to spend with your daughter. Good lord, you’d think we were in the visiting area of a prison!”