I meet Luci’s gaze and squeeze her hand. “I’m okay,” I tell her, a hitch of emotion in my voice. “Thanks to you.”
Her eyes water, and she nods. “I’m just sorry I didn’t?—”
Sirens wail outside, growing louder as they approach. A chaotic racket from multiple vehicles.
André opens the doors to reveal a police car and two ambulances pulling into the courtyard, the imposing black gates now open wide.
A uniformed officer gets out from behind the wheel as two plainclothes men exit from the passenger-side doors. One of them is Armand Phillipe, the Chief of Judicial Police. A man I met at the monsters’ dance.
And a close friend to the Marteau family.
He enters the foyer, his jaw firm and his chest puffed out, arrogance surrounding him like bad cologne. He spares me a glance before speaking to another man in a suit. Then he makes a beeline for Vincent, Chantal, and Ric.
The four of them share a heated exchange, their harsh whispers a low, unintelligible scrape.
Watching them takes me back to the catacombs, to the room with Lyam and Dora. What had Dora told me? The ones living at Maison Marteau accept the reality.
The reality of murder.
Now the remaining family members huddle together, anxiety and angst lining their faces.
Chief Phillipe pushes his hands at them in a halting motion, and they all fall silent. Turning back to Luci and me, he gestures to the other man and they both come over to me.
“Ms. Summers.” Chief Phillipe bows his head. “Such terrible circumstances in which we meet again. I’m sure you’re tired, so Captain Armand will be brief. A few questions before you are transported to the hospital.”
He gestures to the medics filing inside. Two of them carry a stretcher and call out something in French.
André answers and guides them toward the back of the house.
“They will go down,” Luci tells me. “They will bring Alice . . .” She bites her bottom lip and looks away.
But I don’t need to hear the rest.
I know what she means.
“Perhaps we could go somewhere private?” the captain says, dragging my attention back to him.
I glance between him and Chief Phillipe, feeling exposed beneath their piercing stares. I tug the blanket, pulling it tighter as worry knots in my chest. I don’t trust this man. “I’d rather stay with Luci and André.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” The captain smiles. Too congenial. Too smooth. “I should speak to you alone.”
“Non.” A new man walks through the doors, his steps quick and his expression hard. His stare directed at the captain and Chief Phillipe, he barrages them with French.
Stepping in front of Luci and me, the new arrival blocks us from the chief. “Ms. Summers, Mademoiselle Marteau. My name is Luc Denis, and I will be handling this investigation.”
Chief Phillipe’s face turns white. “I did not send for you.”
Mr. Denis turns slowly to face the chief. “The Paris prosecutor’s office sent me.”
“Why? On whose authority do, do—” he stutters and takes a deep breath before switching to French again.
“You will not be involved in this case, sir.” Mr. Denis cuts him off, answering in English, presumably for my benefit. “You and Captain Armand should leave now.”
I understand what’s happening, and the knot releases.
Denis turns his back on the officers and speaks to Luci. “Our office has received a call from Noah Marteau. He insists we ensure the integrity of this investigation.”
Luci stands and stares across the room, her eyes locked on Chantal, Vincent, and Ric. “Yes, I know.” She speaks again to Mr. Denis. “Because I’m the one who asked Noah to call you.”
