Chapter 46
The weekend drew to a close without any further incident. The rain rinsed both yards of all trace of Nora’s presence, which reassured her somewhat. At last the children went up to bed, leaving her alone with her distress and anxiety.
She had a terrible night, her sleep broken by images of dismembered bodies, shattered bones, and splashes of blood. And the tears of her children, their eyes, filled with accusation and hatred, fixed upon her, projecting her into a despair from which she knew she would never recover. She awoke at dawn with a start, bathed in a cold sweat, more exhausted than when she had gone to bed. She forced herself to get up and tried to drown her misery under a long shower.
Wasted effort.
The seconds went by with unbearable slowness, as though time itself were frozen in the treacly mass that hobbled her movements, her emotions, and her thoughts. She went downstairs to make breakfast, hoping to lose herself in the reassuring routine of ordinary life. The before times. But there was no such thing as ordinary life anymore. Anything she did that just a couple of days before had been utterly banal was now suffused with intolerable gravity, dragging her into a slow, painful descent into hell. An endless demise.
She had to do something.
Force the hand of fate.
Put an end to this nightmare.
The children were up at last. She focused on the tasks at hand: preparing their lunchboxes, making sure they got dressed and ready for school, cheering them up, promising that as soon as she heard from their father she’d let them know. She took them to school and hugged them tightly as she said goodbye. Then she went to work.
The morning was not as tough as she’d been expecting; the endless demands of her small charges kept her busy enough to take her mind off everything and soothe her nerves. She left the building at noon sharp and headed down to the police station, thinking she would point the police officers toward Tiphaine and Sylvain’s garden. She’d tell them she’d witnessed some strange goings-on the night of Friday to Saturday, the night Gérard had disappeared—that his disappearance had kept her awake for part of the night and when she got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, she’d seen a figure in the adjoining garden, dragging a long, dark mass toward the back wall.
But as she got closer to the police station, she grew increasingly unsure. Perhaps she’d divert suspicion from the Geniots to her? If what she’d seen through her bedroom window that night had so intrigued her, why had she failed to mention it when she’d reported Gérard’s disappearance to the police on Saturday?
By the time the station came into view, Nora didn’t know what to do. She had a desperate urge to phone Mathilde, which she had to fight with all her strength: she couldn’t count on her anymore. Her friend’s radio silence was proof she no longer wanted to have anything to do with this ghastly saga.
She decided to wait a little longer, hold on until the next day, and then she’d decide. Best not tempt the devil. Better to let things take their course. She had already done enough damage as it was.
She spent the afternoon in a daze. She was comfortable nowhere, dreaming of being alone when she was surrounded by people, and longing for company when she was alone. She waited patiently until 4:30 to pick up Nassim from school.
At 4:20, she was already standing at the school gate. When the school bell rang, she went inside and straight to her son’s classroom. At the end of a corridor she spotted a line of children heading to the cafeteria where the children staying behind after school went for their afternoon snack. She went up to Nassim’s teacher, who looked at her in surprise. Nora greeted her politely.
“Madame Depardieu!” the teacher said, seeming confused. “What are you doing here?”
Surprised by the odd question, Nora raised her eyebrows to signal her incomprehension. “I’ve come to fetch Nassim.”
“But Nassim’s not here. He left half an hour ago.”
Nora was struck dumb, as though she didn’t understand what the teacher was saying.
“He’s left?” she said after a second or two, already feeling the noose of panic. “Where? Who with?”
“I don’t know,” replied the poor teacher, who was beginning to realize that she’d let the child go with someone the mother knew nothing about. “Someone came to pick him up, she said you weren’t able to come yourself. She said she was sorry she was early, but she had to run an errand. The person who runs the after-school program said she’s been to fetch him from school before, with your permission. She’s your neighbor, apparently?”
Chapter 47
“Where’s my mom?” asked Nassim, as he and Tiphaine entered the house. “Why didn’t she come to fetch me?”
“Something came up. But don’t you worry, she’ll be back soon.”
Without taking off her jacket, she went into the kitchen and put her purse down on the table along with a bag of groceries. Then she began opening the drawers one by one. It didn’t take long to find the drawer with the kitchen utensils, out of which she took several knives. A bread knife, a carving knife, long knives, paring knives, serrated, not serrated. She lined them up on the counter and looked at them. At last she picked out one that had a twenty-centimeter blade, nice and sharp, as fine as a cigarette paper, long and thin and pointed. Perfect. She put it in her purse, replaced the others, and shut the drawer.
“Nassim, would you like a snack?”
The child appeared in the doorway, with a surly yet uncertain expression on his face.
“Don’t look like that. What’s wrong?”
“I want my mom.”
Tiphaine smiled sympathetically. She went over to the child and crouched down to his height.
