Chapter 4 - THE BULLET THROUGH THE WINDOW
The shooter missed Élise by less than four feet.
Julien would measure that distance in his head for the rest of his life.
Police rushed them through a service corridor while officers sealed the building.
Élise clung to Julien’s neck.
Sophie followed.
Renard stayed behind long enough to coordinate the search.
By midnight, they were inside a secure apartment owned by the national police.
Élise refused to sleep unless both Julien and Sophie remained in the room.
That hurt.
Not because she wanted Sophie.
Because Julien understood why.
Sophie had been her whole world for three years.
He was still a man from a photograph.
So Julien sat on one side of the bed.
Sophie sat on the other.
Élise held one of their hands in each of hers.
Within ten minutes, she slept.
Julien stared at Sophie across the bed.
“You saved her.”
Sophie looked down.
“Yes.”
“And you kept her from me.”
“Yes.”
Both could be true.
That was the hardest part.
Julien had spent three years needing a villain.
Now the woman who had hidden his child had also prevented the people who stole her from finishing whatever they planned.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Protection?”
“Yes.”
At least she answered honestly.
“For you?”
“For her.”
Julien glanced at Élise.
“She’ll have protection.”
Sophie swallowed.
“And me?”
He looked back.
“That depends.”
“On whether you blame me.”
“I blame you for some things.”
“I know.”
“But if your story is true, I also owe you my daughter’s life.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“That doesn’t erase what I did.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Julien frowned.
“Good?”
“I don’t want you pretending this is simple.”
For the first time, he respected her.
At dawn, Renard arrived.
The shooter had escaped.
But police recovered a rifle abandoned two blocks away.
No fingerprints.
No serial number.
Professional.
More important, someone had accessed the DNA-test appointment through an internal police terminal less than twenty minutes before the shooting.
Julien stared.
“You still have a leak.”
Renard’s face was grim.
“Yes.”
“From three years ago?”
“Possibly.”
“Find him.”
“I intend to.”
Julien stood.
“No. You misunderstand.”
His voice became colder.
“For three years, I trusted the investigation while someone inside your system helped keep my daughter missing.”
Renard stepped closer.
“You think I don’t know what that means?”
“You went home every night.”
Renard’s jaw tightened.
“So did you.”
Julien almost hit him.
Sophie stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Both men looked at her.
“Élise is sleeping.”
That ended it.
Renard opened a folder.
“We pulled Vautrin’s records.”
Julien forced himself to listen.
Dr. Pascal Vautrin had closed Saint-Vincent Clinic eighteen months after Élise disappeared.
Financial troubles, according to public records.
Then he moved to Switzerland.
“Current address?” Julien asked.
“Unknown.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Very.”
“What about my company security?”
Renard looked uncomfortable.
“We need a list from those first seven days.”
“I can get it.”
Julien had left Morel Atelier three years earlier, but he still owned sixty-one percent.
His childhood friend and business partner, Gabriel Laurent, had run the company ever since.
Gabriel had been the one who held Julien upright at the press conference the morning after Élise disappeared.
The one who told him not to give up.
The one who eventually convinced him to step away from the company.
Julien called him.
Gabriel answered immediately.
“Julien?”
“Did I wake you?”
“Does that matter?”
Julien looked at Élise sleeping.
“I found her.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I found Élise.”
Gabriel made a broken sound.
“Oh my God.”
Julien heard movement.
“Where are you? I’m coming.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Not yet.”
“Julien—”
“I need something.”
Anything changed in Gabriel’s voice.
Subtle.
“What?”
“The private security roster from the week she disappeared.”
Silence.
One second.
Two.
“Why?”
Julien stared at nothing.
“Because someone working my hotline helped hide her.”
Gabriel stopped breathing.
Julien heard it.
Barely.
But enough.
“Gabriel?”
“I’m here.”
“Send the list.”
“Of course.”
The call ended.
Julien lowered the phone slowly.
Sophie had been watching him.
“What?”
“He hesitated.”
“Maybe because it’s strange.”
“No.”
Julien knew Gabriel.
Or thought he did.
“When Élise disappeared, Gabriel could barely say her name without crying.”
Renard asked, “You suspect him?”
“I suspect everyone now.”
An hour later, the employee roster arrived.
Twenty-three names.
Renard reviewed them.
One stood out immediately.
Étienne Barrot.
Former military police.
Hired through an outside company.
He had worked hotline security for four days.
Then disappeared from employment records.
Sophie looked at the photograph.
Her face went white.
“That’s him.”
Julien stood.
“The man from the clinic?”
“Yes.”
“The one who brought Élise?”
Sophie nodded.
Renard immediately began searching.
Then Julien saw the contractor authorization line.
APPROVED BY: G. LAURENT.
Gabriel.
His best friend had hired the man who kidnapped his daughter.
“No,” Julien whispered.
He called Gabriel again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Sophie touched another document.
“What is that?”
A transfer statement.
Three days after Élise disappeared, Morel Atelier paid €240,000 to a consulting company called Arcadia Risk Solutions.
Étienne Barrot’s employer.
Julien stared.
“Why would my company pay them after my daughter vanished?”
Renard looked at him.
“Who controlled finances while you were searching?”
Julien already knew.
“Gabriel.”
His phone vibrated.
A message.
From Gabriel.
COME TO THE OLD MOREL SITE ON QUAI RAMBAUD. ALONE. I CAN EXPLAIN.
Attached was a photograph.
Dr. Pascal Vautrin.
Alive.
Sitting in a chair.
Holding that morning’s newspaper.
Renard stared.
“It’s a trap.”
Julien’s expression hardened.
“Probably.”
Sophie looked toward the bedroom.
“You can’t go.”
Julien glanced at his sleeping daughter.
Three years ago, he had believed losing Élise destroyed every dangerous part of him.
He had been wrong.
Finding her had brought them all back.
“I’m going.”
Renard stepped forward.
“Not alone.”
“The message says alone.”
“And criminals are famous for honesty.”
Julien almost smiled.
Then Élise appeared in the doorway.
Barefoot.
Holding Mr. Bun, the stuffed rabbit Sophie had bought her two years earlier.
“Papa?”
Julien froze.
It was the first time she had called him that without a question in her voice.
He crouched.
“What is it?”
“Don’t go.”
His chest tightened.
“Why?”
She rubbed her eyes.
“I remember him.”
“Who?”
She pointed at Gabriel’s name on the phone.
Julien stared.
“Gabriel?”
Élise nodded.
“He was there.”
Every adult in the room went silent.
“Where?”
“The dark car.”
Julien’s blood turned to ice.
Élise pressed her face against his shoulder.
“He told the man I was expensive.”
And Julien finally understood.
May you like
His daughter’s disappearance had never been random.
Someone he loved had put a price on her.
