Chapter 2 - THE NAME SHE DIDN’T REMEMBER
Julien Morel had imagined finding his daughter thousands of times.
In some versions, police called him in the middle of the night.
In others, Élise simply appeared at his front door wearing the red coat she had disappeared in, as though three years had been no more than an afternoon.
Never once had he imagined sitting in a bakery with a hungry six-year-old who called herself Camille while chocolate frosting covered the corner of her mouth.
“Camille,” Julien said carefully, “who is Sophie?”
The little girl licked frosting from her fork.
“She takes care of me.”
“Your mother?”
Camille hesitated.
“Sophie says family is the people who stay.”
That was not an answer.
Julien’s heartbeat became painfully loud.
“Where is she?”
Camille pointed vaguely toward the street.
“Home.”
“You told the baker she was outside.”
Camille lowered her eyes.
Julien immediately regretted the pressure in his voice.
“I’m not angry.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you say she was outside?”
Camille twisted the sleeve of her oversized coat.
“Because Madame doesn’t give food to kids alone.”
The bakery owner looked away.
Julien felt something tear open inside him.
“How far away is home?”
“Not far.”
“Did Sophie send you here?”
“She gave me coins for bread.”
Camille looked at the remains of the cake.
“But cake smelled better.”
Julien almost laughed.
Élise had once eaten frosting from her fourth birthday cake before guests arrived.
She had blamed the family dog.
The dog had been sleeping upstairs.
His daughter had been a terrible liar.
Just like this child.
Julien stared at the crescent-shaped mark on Camille’s ankle.
Hope was becoming dangerous.
He needed facts.
“Camille.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember being little?”
She frowned.
“I’m still little.”
Despite himself, Julien smiled.
“Smaller.”
She thought.
“Some.”
“What do you remember?”
Camille swung her legs.
“A yellow room.”
Julien stopped breathing.
Élise’s bedroom had been pale yellow.
“And?”
“A horse.”
His throat tightened.
There had been a wooden rocking horse beside her window.
“What color?”
“White.”
Julien’s hand trembled beneath the table.
“Anything else?”
Camille closed her eyes dramatically.
“A man made houses.”
Julien could no longer hear the bakery around him.
He was an architect.
When Élise was two, she called his drawings “paper houses.”
“Did the man have a name?”
Camille shook her head.
“Maybe Papa.”
Julien pushed back from the table so suddenly the chair scraped across the tile.
Camille startled.
“I’m sorry.”
He crouched beside her.
“No. No, sweetheart.”
His voice broke.
“I’m not angry.”
He reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
Calling the police in front of her might frighten her.
So he texted one person.
INSPECTOR RENARD. BAKERY RUE DE BONNEL. COME ALONE. NOW.
Luc Renard had led Élise’s disappearance investigation three years earlier.
He had also been the last person Julien screamed at before giving up on the police entirely.
Nine minutes later, the bakery bell rang.
Renard entered wearing an old navy coat.
He had more gray hair than Julien remembered.
His eyes found Julien.
Then Camille.
Then the birthmark.
Everything in his face changed.
“Julien.”
Camille looked nervously between them.
Julien stood.
“Don’t scare her.”
Renard nodded.
He approached slowly.
“Hello.”
Camille hid her shoes beneath the chair.
Renard noticed.
“So you’re Camille.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Luc.”
“Are you police?”
Renard glanced at Julien.
Camille’s shoulders tightened.
“How did you know?” Renard asked.
“You have police face.”
For the first time in years, Julien heard Renard laugh.
“What does police face look like?”
“Tired.”
The baker turned away, smiling.
Renard crouched.
“Camille, Julien thinks he may have known you when you were smaller.”
She looked at Julien.
“He does?”
“Maybe.”
“Did I owe him money?”
Julien closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Good.”
Renard’s expression softened.
“We’d like to find Sophie.”
Camille immediately became frightened.
“No.”
Julien saw it.
“Why?”
“You can’t take her.”
“Take her where?”
“Jail.”
The bakery went silent.
Renard stayed calm.
“Why would Sophie go to jail?”
Camille’s lower lip trembled.
“Because she took me.”
Julien’s entire body went rigid.
“What did you say?”
Camille looked as though she knew she had revealed something forbidden.
“Sophie says never tell.”
Julien crouched in front of her.
“Camille, look at me.”
She did.
“Did Sophie take you from someone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she ever tell you where you came from?”
The child’s eyes filled.
“She said she saved me.”
Julien felt sick.
“From what?”
Camille whispered, “The bad man.”
Renard’s gaze sharpened.
“What bad man?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
Camille shook her head hard.
“No.”
Julien stopped Renard with one look.
Enough.
He held out his hand.
“Can you take me to Sophie?”
Camille studied him.
“Why?”
Julien could have lied.
He did not.
“Because I think you might be my daughter.”
Her blue eyes widened.
“That’s silly.”
His heart broke.
“Maybe.”
“My name is Camille.”
“I know.”
“And my papa is gone.”
Julien swallowed.
“Who told you that?”
“Sophie.”
Something cold entered him.
Camille looked at his face.
“Are you sad?”
“Yes.”
She thought for a moment.
Then tore the last piece of cake in half.
She offered him one piece.
“You can have some.”
Julien almost collapsed.
Élise used to do that.
Whenever he looked sad, she shared food.
Usually something she had already licked.
He accepted the cake.
“Thank you.”
Camille climbed down.
“I’ll show you Sophie.”
Renard immediately called for discreet backup.
No sirens.
No uniforms near the child.
Camille led them six blocks away from the Rhône.
The neighborhood became poorer with every turn.
Finally she stopped outside an old building with cracked shutters.
“Third floor.”
They climbed.
At apartment 3B, Camille knocked.
“Sophie?”
No answer.
She knocked again.
“It’s me.”
Something moved inside.
The door opened three inches.
A woman looked out.
Mid-thirties.
Thin.
Pale.
Dark circles beneath frightened eyes.
Then she saw Julien.
The color vanished from her face.
“No.”
She tried to shut the door.
Renard stopped it.
“Sophie?”
The woman backed away.
Camille ran inside.
“Sophie!”
Sophie grabbed her.
Her eyes remained fixed on Julien.
“You weren’t supposed to find her like this.”
Julien stopped.
The sentence told him everything.
“You know who I am.”
Sophie began crying.
“Yes.”
Julien’s world narrowed.
“Who is she?”
Sophie clutched Camille tighter.
Camille looked frightened.
Julien lowered his voice.
“Who is that child?”
Sophie closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she looked at Camille.
Then at Julien.
And whispered the name he had not heard spoken inside his house for three years.
“Élise.”
Julien forgot how to breathe.
Camille stared at Sophie.
“My name isn’t Élise.”
Sophie began sobbing.
“It was.”
May you like
And Julien Morel realized that finding his daughter was not going to be the end of his nightmare.
It was only going to tell him who had created it.
