‘Let me check it out first. Just wait here for a minute.’
She watched as he disappeared inside the gloomy building, the light from the torch a small dot as he pressed forward. It grew dark once more, and she felt a chill run across her shoulders. The sound of Tristan’s footsteps faded as he vanished further inside the house. She turned back to face the forest. The darkness was so thick that she wasn’t sure if she had her eyes open or closed.
She blinked, then held her hand out in front of her, penetrating the black. There was no hint of a light from anywhere. She held her breath, listening for the noises of the forest. She tuned into the sound of the waterfall nearby. Listened to the familiar rustling in the undergrowth. Small things scurrying around. The faint call of a bird, somewhere far away.
She turned back to the house, peered inside the dark doorway. The same musty smell of the woods around her was inside the house, mixed with other things: dust, mould. Dead things.
Now that she was here, she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to venture inside. It was exactly the kind of place where something or someone might lurk in the shadows.
Thirty-Five
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Pigalle watches the man on the monitor as he walks up to the desk and slams his hand on the intercom buzzer. The man looks furious.
The woman is still sitting on the sofa by the window, and she says something that Pigalle lip-reads as ‘For god’s sake, calm down!’ These are the first words that she’s spoken for over an hour. Pigalle is still not sure if they are a couple or not, but whatever their relationship to one another, it’s not a happy one.
The man ignores her and presses his finger on the buzzer again. Pigalle sighs and gets up from his seat.
‘It’s OK,’ Séb says, waving a hand. ‘I’ll go.’
Pigalle sits back down to watch the interaction. Séb has left the door open a little, and despite the TV, Pigalle can hear the conversation taking place at the counter.
‘Are you OK, monsieur?’
The man’s shoulders slump, as if the fight has gone out of him. ‘I’m hungry. I’m tired. Is there anything you can do for us? Please?’
Séb shrugs. ‘You don’t have to stay here, you know. No one is making you.’
The man closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. His hands are on the counter and he is clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘We’re waiting for the embassy person. Any updates?’ His voice is pinched, as if he is trying hard to stay calm.
The lieutenant shrugs once more.
The man bangs a fist on the counter, but not very hard. ‘I know you’re watching us. I spotted the CCTV earlier. I like the way you have it squashed up there next to the controls for the fish tank, thinking we won’t notice.’
He hears Séb let out a small laugh. ‘All police stations have CCTV, monsieur. We are not hiding anything from you.’
The man frowns. Pigalle really wants to know what this man is thinking. He wants him to open up. He is quite sure that it is the woman who is insisting they keep quiet, and he can’t work out why. But watching them is interesting.
‘Can you get us something to eat? Please?’
‘Sure,’ Séb says. ‘You only had to ask.’ He pushes the door open and steps back into the office, giving Pigalle an eye-roll. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with him,’ Séb says to Pigalle. ‘But he is not looking very well. He’s getting agitated.’
‘Call the café next to the bus stop. Ask them to bring in something for them. I can’t ask Sandrine again.’
Séb nods and picks up his phone, and Pigalle sits back to continue watching. The man is staring into the fish tank now, as if expecting to find answers in there.
He’s watching the fish, and I am watching him.
Pigalle is also drawn to the fish tank. He often spends time just watching them. Swimming back and forth, around in circles. No clue where they’ve been just a minute before. He envies them their short memories, because sometimes memories can break you. The seahorses, though, they’re different. Intelligent. He is fascinated by them. He remembers learning that their eyes can act independently so they can see all around them. Wouldn’t that be a useful skill for a policeman? And of course they mate for life, and the males carry the babies. He wonders how the human race would behave if the same was true for them?
Pigalle watches as the man walks back over to the sofa and sits down. His anger seems to have dissipated, and he flops, almost boneless, on to the seat. The woman stares at him for a bit. Opens her mouth, as if she is about to speak, then closes it again and turns back to face out of the window.