This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2013 Jacques Vandroux
Translation copyright © 2014 Wendeline A. Hardenberg
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Previously published as Au Coeur du Solstice by the author through the Kindle Direct Publishing platform in France in 2013. Translated from the French by Wendeline A. Hardenberg.
Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477826829
ISBN-10: 1477826823
Cover design by Edward Bettison, LTD
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014911233
To my wife
Contents
Foreword
Prologue: The Past
Chapter 1: The Present
Chapter 2: Ready for Action
Chapter 3: Police Intervention
Chapter 4: The Woman in the Baptistery
Chapter 5: A Summer Night’s Dream
Chapter 6: The Autopsy
Chapter 7: Adieu, Magali!
Chapter 8: A Cozy Restaurant
Chapter 9: Initial Briefing
Chapter 10: The Shock
Chapter 11: Relaxation
Chapter 12: Magali
Chapter 13: Monica
Chapter 14: Father de Valjoney
Chapter 15: Second Vision
Chapter 16: The Lead
Chapter 17: The Abduction
Chapter 18: More Details
Chapter 19: No Doubt
Chapter 20: Escape
Chapter 21: Nightmare
Chapter 22: The Stakeout
Chapter 23: Harassment
Chapter 24: Rude Awakening
Chapter 25: The Déramaux Case
Chapter 26: Key Witness
Chapter 27: The Blues
Chapter 28: New Team
Chapter 29: Arsène
Chapter 30: Worries
Chapter 31: Meeting with the Priest
Chapter 32: Four Seasons Pizza
Chapter 33: Julien’s Testimony
Chapter 34: Raid
Chapter 35: The Specialist
Chapter 36: The Psychic
Chapter 37: Julien’s Mother
Chapter 38: Girls’ Night
Chapter 39: Monsieur Ibrahim
Chapter 40: The Attack
Chapter 41: Rain Man
Chapter 42: Gruesome Discovery
Chapter 43: The Final Hour
Chapter 44: Why Grenoble?
Chapter 45: Sanctuary
Chapter 46: Pierre Dupré
Chapter 47: The Manor
Chapter 48: The Cabrade Lead
Chapter 49: Genetics
Chapter 50: Witnesses
Chapter 51: Hélène
Chapter 52: Flashback
Chapter 53: Time Off
Chapter 54: The Meeting
Chapter 55: Aurélien
Chapter 56: Forbidden Dissection
Chapter 57: Boisregard
Chapter 58: Excitement at the Museum
Chapter 59: The Manuscript
Chapter 60: Meeting at the Church
Chapter 61: Antoine Dupas
Chapter 62: Search
Chapter 63: Géraldine Borteau
Chapter 64: Kill Count
Chapter 65: At the Diocese
Chapter 66: The Jail
Chapter 67: The Book of the Sun
Chapter 68: Origins
Chapter 69: The Revolt
Chapter 70: Nothing to Report
Chapter 71: René Pelloux
Chapter 72: Contact
Chapter 73: Action
Chapter 74: Introductions
Chapter 75: In Nomine Patris
Chapter 76: Let the Games Begin
Chapter 77: End in Sight
Chapter 78: Revelations
Chapter 79: On the Scene
Chapter 80: Sacrifices
Chapter 81: Funeral
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
About the Translator
Foreword
Although it takes place in real locations and venues, this book is a work of fiction. Character names and events came from the imagination of the author. The only intention in depicting real places is to lend the fiction an air of authenticity. Therefore, any resemblance or similarity to names, people, or facts currently or formerly in existence, particularly with regard to the characters who hold real positions, is pure coincidence and under no circumstances renders the author liable.
The historic sites and museums described in this book actually exist, and the author strongly encourages you to visit them should you one day find yourself in Grenoble.
Prologue: The Past
Sweat ran down her face, plastering her bedraggled hair to her forehead. She could no longer tell whether it was the heat or the fear—both, undoubtedly. She turned around once more, nearly stumbling over a root poking up through the soil. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he wasn’t far, that he would catch her. She didn’t care anymore. Only one thing mattered to her and pushed her to continue fleeing. He mustn’t have the baby. Never!
She felt her belly contract yet again. Pausing in the shelter of a tree, she waited for the pain to subside. Another contraction doubled her over. All of a sudden she felt warm liquid running down her thighs. She panicked—her water had just broken. She looked around. Lights everywhere were gradually going out. She was alone in the Jardin de Ville. She spotted a thicket of shrubs. A hiding place! From there, he wouldn’t see her, even if he walked right by.
Her lower abdomen was now hurting her terribly. She’d never have imagined that the pain could be so intense. The baby would come soon, she knew it. She took off her dress and laid it on the ground. She was going to give birth here. The contractions were coming one after the other now without stopping. She removed her panties and crouched down over her dress. She felt like screaming, but she couldn’t. He wasn’t far away, and he would hear her. She bit her lips until they bled and pushed with each new contraction. Tears welled in her eyes, but not a sound passed her tortured lips. She felt contractions, but despite the pain, for her son, for his freedom, she mustn’t cry out.
Several minutes later, the baby came, and an immense fatigue descended on her. But she couldn’t rest, not now. She looked at the infant. An innate reflex made her pick him up and pat his back. He gave a little squeal, then started crying.
“Easy, baby, easy,” she murmured, pressing him to her bare skin. The infant’s heat gave her the strength to keep fighting. As if he understood, the baby fell silent.
She tore off the bottom of her dress and swaddled the baby, then slipped the rest of it back on. She was in a sorry state but couldn’t care less. She had just brought life into the world, and there was no way he was going to steal it from her. Shouts suddenly fractured her ephemeral happiness.
“I know you’re there! We’ll find you!”
She got up slowly and saw who was en
tering at the other side of the park. Two men were with him. They were looking for her, and they would find her soon.
She clasped her son against her and kissed his forehead. It seemed as though the baby gave her a questioning look. She placed him on the ground, in the shelter of a bush.
“Someone will find you, baby. Any life is better than what he has planned for you.”
She leaned down, kissed him one last time. Now she knew where her tears were coming from. She carefully put some distance between them, then started to run again. She prayed her son wouldn’t start to cry. She prayed he would be welcomed by people who would take care of him. Above all she prayed that the man chasing her would never lay a hand on her son. But she no longer prayed for herself.
Chapter 1: The Present
The young woman had a graceful walk. Her white dress swayed with the rhythm of her steps, and the sun drenching the city lent her a luminous aura. She paused at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic light to change. The young man hesitated for a moment. What was happening to him? He enjoyed looking at a pretty girl when he saw one on the street, but those were no more than glances, moments that vanished as quickly as they came. Never before had he followed someone!
Yet now it had been more than fifteen minutes since he had seen her on the Isère riverfront. Moved by an impulse he couldn’t explain, he had veered from his own path to follow in her footsteps. He had always kept a reasonable distance between himself and the young woman, and she hadn’t noticed anything. In late afternoon, the streets were full of gawking badauds making the most of the first intense heat of summer.
The light turned red, and the woman resumed her moderate pace. Julien continued on, not knowing where he would end up. Because really, what was his intention? He concentrated on the details of the silhouette moving ahead of him. She was tall, with slightly curly brown hair that bounced atop her shoulders. Her loose white dress fell airily to just above her knees. Julien could see the outlines of her body beneath the clothing. He’d never been very good at guessing ages, but he observed that she had young-looking features that nevertheless showed an air of maturity. It was that sense of maturity that had attracted him.
She had just ducked under the portico of the Notre-Dame de Grenoble Cathedral and entered the building. Julien stopped and sat down on a stone bench nearby, trying to gather his thoughts. Why was he following this girl? Why was he gripped by such an overwhelming desire to follow her into the church? It was almost frightening.
Despite feeling ridiculous, Julien continued to monitor the cathedral portico. At that time of day, it was the only way in, and therefore the only way out. Julien decided to wait a few more minutes. He thought back to her face. Though he’d caught only a glimpse, it was her face that had struck him. Both sweet and serious—very serious. It radiated serenity, but also an indescribable need for protection.
Julien scoffed at himself again. Psychoanalysis for dummies! You poor sap, you’re pathetic. He glanced at his watch. It was seven in the evening. What if she was just attending mass? Almost in spite of himself, he stood up and entered the church.
The cool interior contrasted with the summer heat outside. He shivered. Speakers hidden among the pillars created a background of Gregorian chants, inviting calm and meditation. He looked around slowly to take in the scene. Few people were there at that hour, and no mass was being conducted. He couldn’t see her. She was doubtless in one of the side chapels or in the adjoining Saint-Hugues Church. He walked slowly, reverentially, discreetly inspecting the chapels while regularly glancing at the exit.
The church gave off a scent of burned-out candles and centuries-old stone. He’d always loved old churches, with their protective arches, mysteriously timeless and at the center of things.
Five minutes later, he’d made his way all the way around the cathedral. She had to be in the adjacent church then, which could be accessed via a side door. He exited the Gothic cathedral to enter, one yard farther, the little neighboring church. No one! He came back out immediately. Noticing that an old woman was staring at him insistently, he left the church and found himself once more in the open square outside, blinded by the June sun. He returned to his observation post. Perhaps she had escaped his notice in the church, but he was absolutely certain that she hadn’t come out. He was intrigued. He didn’t know when the church closed, but if he stayed long enough, he couldn’t miss her.
“You okay, dude?” Julien felt a hand on his shoulder. “Everything all right? You haven’t moved in ten minutes, just staring into space.”
“I’m fine, thank you, just a little tired.”
“Well, when you’re tired, dude, you gotta lie down. By the way, d’you happen to have a li’l spare change for the guy who woke you up?”
Julien looked at the man who had accosted him. He recognized him as a bum he’d passed under the portico earlier and had an idea.
“I’ve got a whole bill if you answer my question.”
“Ah, I’m not the police, dude,” the man said, but lured by the prospect of easy money, he asked, “Whaddya wanna know?”
“Since you’ve been here, have you seen a young woman come out? Pretty, tall, wearing a white dress?”
The bum burst out laughing. “If it’s about your heart or her ass, I can answer you. But let’s see the dough first.”
Julien took a twenty-euro bill out of his wallet and handed it over. The bum whistled as though he hadn’t been expecting that much.
“Well, aren’t you feeling generous! For that much you can have two questions. But to answer your first one, no. I saw a couple old ladies, but they were all bent over, and if they were ever pretty, it was back when they built Notre-Dame in the first place.” Pleased with his joke, he burst into laughter punctuated by coughing. “But I can also tell you, for the same price, that I’ve been here for over two hours and I didn’t see your fair maiden.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, she just went in around seven o’clock!”
“In your dreams, dude, in your dreams. Look, I gotta go. I gotta take advantage of my new wealth.”
The bum departed via a little street across from the square, leaving Julien in a daze. The man must have been drunk or looking elsewhere. Still, he seemed quite sure of himself. Julien had watched the mysterious woman go in, though, and he was certain of it. Besides, even if he had been daydreaming, he’d still kept an eye on the door, though he was less certain of that.
The whole thing confused him, and he was wasting his time. He decided, however, to take one last look around the church.
The cathedral was now nearly deserted. The old woman who had noticed him a few minutes earlier was still there. Maybe she could help him after all. He approached her slowly. “Good evening, madame, I’m looking for a friend and was wondering if maybe you could help me?”
She eyed him mistrustfully and replied, “And what does that have to do with me?”
He responded even more gently. “I arranged to meet her here half an hour ago, but I can’t find her.”
The parishioner stared at him for a long while. He remained impassive. After many long seconds, she seemed to relax.
“And what does your friend look like?”
“Very pretty, dark haired, and she was going to wear a white dress today.”
“Sorry, young man, but I’ve been right here since midafternoon and I haven’t seen such a beauty.” A slight smile lit her dour face when she uttered that last phrase.
Julien was stunned. Before she could leave, he asked, “Is there another door she could have used to enter or exit?”
�
�No, only the portico is open to the faithful.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t look so down in the mouth. Women are often unpredictable at your age . . . and at mine, too, for that matter,” she added, her eyes twinkling.
He smiled at her. “You’re probably right. Have a good evening.”
He returned to the open air and decided to take a walk through the city to clear his head. Why did this episode leave him with such a strange feeling?
Chapter 2: Ready for Action
The man’s hand groped at the wall, catching on the rough plaster. He swore and stuck his fingertips in his mouth to ease the mild sting. Then, after a few seconds of feeling around, he found the light switch.
He pressed it, and bright light flooded the room. He blinked for a few moments as his eyes adjusted, then approached the table in the center of the room. With a lover’s touch, he caressed the woman slowly. He stepped back to encompass her with his gaze. The dark black tabletop complemented the stainless steel support, reflecting the neon light particularly well.
He had not chosen machinery that would allow her to orient herself. A simple table was sufficient for his purposes. But he had taken much care in selecting the lamp, which was cleverly mounted on an articulated arm. He was quite proud of this high-end equipment; he’d had to engage in a great deal of subterfuge to order it and have it delivered without attracting attention.
He moved to the sideboard on which several closed pouches lay. He opened them and pulled out several implements, laying them side by side with maniacal precision. He had been so successful in his profession because he left nothing to chance—when the task at hand required all of an individual’s concentration, even the smallest discrepancy could lead to disaster. And he had known only a single failure in over thirty years. He admired his work and then, satisfied, headed toward a large metal cabinet set against one wall. He opened the door. Three green smocks, impeccably ironed, dangled from hangers. He took one of them, put it on, and looked at himself in a small mirror resting on one of the shelves. Everything was perfect. He was ready.