Chapter 7 - THE BUILDING THAT REMEMBERED HIM
The unfinished tower stood outside Villeurbanne.
Twenty-two floors of exposed concrete.
Construction had stopped eight months earlier after financial disputes.
Most people saw an empty building.
Julien saw every column.
Every staircase.
Every service shaft.
He had designed it seven years earlier.
Before Claire got sick.
Before Élise disappeared.
Before architecture became something he could no longer look at without remembering the man he used to be.
Renard spread plans across the hood of a police vehicle.
“Barrot is on level fourteen.”
Julien shook his head.
“No.”
“We have thermal imaging.”
“You have what he wants you to see.”
Renard frowned.
Julien pointed to the plans.
“Level fourteen has temporary glass installed. He knows police drones can read through parts of the facade.”
“So?”
“He wants you watching fourteen.”
“Where is he?”
Julien traced a vertical line.
“Mechanical transfer floor. Eleven.”
“Why?”
“No exterior visibility. Two exits. Service shaft to basement.”
Renard stared.
“You sure?”
“I designed the building.”
That answer ended the argument.
Police teams entered through the basement and adjacent parking structure.
Julien was told to remain outside.
He lasted four minutes.
Then Sophie received another call.
Barrot.
“Bring Julien.”
Renard swore.
Julien answered.
“I’m here.”
“You designed this place?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know where to come.”
Level eleven.
Exactly.
Barrot laughed.
“Alone.”
Julien entered wearing body armor beneath his coat and an audio transmitter.
The elevators were dead.
He climbed eleven floors.
By the eighth, his legs burned.
By the tenth, he could hear Mathis crying.
At eleven, Barrot waited.
He looked exactly like the photograph.
Older.
Scar beside his thumb.
Gun in hand.
Mathis sat tied near a structural column.
“You’re late.”
Julien looked at the boy.
“Are you hurt?”
Mathis shook his head.
Barrot smiled.
“Always the child.”
Julien looked at him.
“What?”
“Rich men become pathetic around children.”
“Maybe.”
He held up the ledger.
“You wanted this.”
Barrot’s eyes fixed on it.
“Put it down.”
Julien did.
“Kick it over.”
He obeyed.
Barrot picked it up.
Flipped through pages.
His expression changed.
“This is fake.”
Julien smiled.
“You’re observant.”
Barrot raised the gun.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“Where’s the real one?”
“Evidence storage.”
Barrot’s face twisted.
“You wasted my time.”
“No.”
Julien looked at Mathis.
“I bought his.”
Gunfire echoed below.
Police had entered.
Barrot grabbed Mathis.
The gun pressed against the boy’s head.
“Back!”
Julien stopped.
“Let him go.”
“Move!”
Barrot dragged Mathis toward the service corridor.
Julien looked at the ceiling.
Then at the unfinished fire door behind Barrot.
He knew something Barrot did not.
That corridor had no completed landing.
Three meters beyond the door, the floor dropped almost two stories because the connecting stair had never been installed.
“Don’t go through that door,” Julien said.
Barrot laughed.
“You expect me to listen?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no floor behind it.”
Barrot hesitated.
That was all Julien needed.
Mathis bit his hand.
Barrot shouted.
Julien lunged.
The gun fired.
Concrete exploded beside them.
Mathis dropped.
Julien hit Barrot.
Both men crashed into the wall.
Barrot punched him across the face.
Julien fell.
The gun slid toward the fire door.
Barrot dove after it.
The unfinished door opened.
His foot disappeared over the edge.
He grabbed the frame at the last second.
Half his body hung above the shaft.
Julien could have watched him fall.
For one terrible second, he wanted to.
This man had taken Élise.
Sedated her.
Threatened Sophie.
Helped destroy three years of Julien’s life.
Barrot looked up.
Fear replaced arrogance.
“Help me.”
Julien stared.
Then Élise’s voice returned in his mind.
You didn’t take me. Then don’t say sorry.
Julien reached down.
He grabbed Barrot’s wrist.
Renard arrived with two officers.
Together they hauled him up.
Barrot was handcuffed.
Alive.
Able to stand trial.
Mathis ran into Sophie’s arms downstairs.
Julien watched them.
Then his phone rang.
The safe house.
He answered immediately.
“Papa?”
Élise.
His eyes closed.
“I’m here.”
“Did you get the boy?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Can we have cake?”
Julien laughed.
Renard looked at him strangely.
“Yes.”
“Chocolate?”
“Yes.”
“Blue frosting?”
His chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
The call ended.
Renard smiled faintly.
“You’re different.”
Julien looked at the unfinished tower.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I think I’m becoming the man I was before.”
That evening, Gabriel requested to speak with him.
Julien almost refused.
Then went.
Gabriel sat behind glass in detention.
No expensive coat now.
No authority.
Only regret.
“I heard about Barrot.”
Julien said nothing.
Gabriel looked down.
“I loved Élise.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“You loved yourself more.”
Gabriel flinched.
“I thought I could control it.”
“That is what men say after they ruin other people.”
“I’m sorry.”
Julien almost laughed.
“For what part?”
“All of it.”
Julien stood.
Gabriel looked up.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
Julien thought of three lost birthdays.
Three Christmas mornings.
Three years of his daughter believing her father was gone.
“No.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Julien continued.
“But I’m also not going to spend the rest of my life hating you.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“That isn’t forgiveness.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
Julien turned toward the door.
“Freedom.”
Then he left.
Outside, Sophie waited with Élise.
The little girl ran toward him.
“Papa!”
Julien lifted her.
She touched the bruise on his cheek.
“You got boo-boo.”
“I did.”
“Did you cry?”
“Almost.”
She nodded approvingly.
“Crying is okay.”
Sophie smiled.
Julien looked at her.
“Yes.”
He finally believed that too.
Then Élise whispered into his ear.
“I remember my room.”
Julien froze.
“What?”
“The yellow one.”
His heart pounded.
She smiled.
“And the horse.”
May you like
Julien held her tighter.
A little more of his daughter had come home.
