Chapter 8 - WHAT THE FIRE LEFT
The fire started in Alexandre’s study.
By the time the trucks arrived, flames had climbed the curtains and eaten through the shelves.
Mrs. Besson got Mathéo out through the kitchen.
She also got the dog, a furious little terrier named Biscuit, who bit a firefighter trying to carry him.
Lucie laughed when she heard that.
Then she cried so hard she couldn’t speak.
Nobody had died.
For that night, it felt like enough.
The police believed someone had entered through the garden door. Moreau had already copied Lucie’s memory card and photographed the notebook.
Whoever set the fire hadn’t known that.
But they had destroyed Alexandre’s private records.
At the hospital, Claire refused to let anyone close her room door.
“I know it’s silly.”
“It isn’t,” Lucie said.
Alexandre brought her water.
She took it without looking at him.
After a while, she said, “Did you look for me?”
His face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
Claire turned toward the window.
“They told me you knew.”
Alexandre sat down.
“What?”
“They said you wanted me here. That I’d embarrassed you. That you’d signed everything.”
“No.”
“At first I screamed. Then they gave me things that made it hard to think.”
He covered his mouth.
“I thought you were dead.”
“They showed me pictures of you with her.”
“Valérie?”
“At Christmas. At dinners. In our garden.”
Lucie watched the realization settle over him.
Every family photograph had been used like a weapon.
Claire gripped the blanket.
“I hated you. I’m sorry, but I did.”
“You survived,” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize for how.”
Outside, Moreau spoke to Lucie.
“Your mother gave us the suitcase.”
“The envelope?”
“Still sealed.”
He showed her a photograph of its contents: letters, bank records, a small brass key.
And a birth certificate.
Lucie read the name.
Mathéo Delcourt.
The mother listed was Valérie.
The father was not Thomas.
Lucie looked through the hospital window at Alexandre.
Moreau lowered his voice.
“We have to verify this before anyone tells the child.”
“Who’s his father?”
The detective pointed to the second name.
May you like
Dr. Étienne Vasseur.
The physician who had certified Claire dead.
