“Your Honor, this child is traumatized. He’s confusing his nightmares with—”
“Silence, Counsel,” the judge interrupted.
His gaze was fixed on Julien.
The father’s face had changed. The neat, polished sadness was gone. In its place was a raw, dirty fear, impossible to disguise.
The judge pressed the call button.
“No one leaves this room. Call the police. Immediately.”
Claire raised her head. Her hair clung to her temples. Her eyes, empty for the past seven months, flashed with a terrible flame.
Malo didn’t understand why everyone was staring at him.
He clutched his little red truck and murmured,
“Did I say something stupid?”
Claire wanted to get up and run to him, but her legs were shaking too much. Two police officers entered. Julien tried to speak.
“It’s absurd. Claire is putting ideas into her head. She wants to destroy me because—”
“Sit down,” the judge ordered.
But Julien didn’t sit down. He took a step back.
And that simple movement was enough.
A police officer placed his hand on his shoulder. Julien didn’t shout. He didn’t really protest. He simply looked at his son, with such a brief, cold hatred that Claire saw it despite her tears.
Then she understood.
Perhaps his daughter had never left their lives.
She had only been hidden by the man who made their coffee every morning.
PART 2
Two hours later, Claire was in an unmarked car with Commander Renaud Dumas. The vehicle was heading toward an area of abandoned warehouses near Gennevilliers. Julien had been renting a storage unit there for years, officially for his tools and old furniture.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the policeman said.
Claire didn’t reply.
When the metal shutter was forced open, a smell of dust, oil, and damp cold wafted from the garage. In the back, behind some cardboard boxes, an old chest freezer was still vibrating.
Claire put both hands to her stomach.
“No…”
The commander gently blocked her path.
“Mrs. Morel…”
“Open up.”
No one dared argue.
The lid creaked.
White steam rose.
Then there was yellow.
A piece of yellow fabric.
The dress Zoé was wearing the day she disappeared.
Claire didn’t scream. She fell to her knees on the concrete, as if her bones had been ripped out.
The commander closed his eyes for a second.
Behind them, an officer received a call, paled, then whispered:
“Julien just called for a lawyer. And he says it was an accident.”
