Syndrome E

Epilogue

One month later

The beach at Les Sables d’Olonne unfurled its great gilded crescent beneath the August sun. Her eyes hidden behind dark shades, Lucie watched Clara and Juliette as they carved elaborate shapes in the sand. Some seagulls spun overhead, and a tepid, calming roar rose from the ocean. All around her people were happy, sharing the slightest square foot of sand. The area was packed.

For the tenth time in less than an hour, Lucie looked back at the seawall. Sharko would be arriving at any moment. Since Coline Quinat’s arrest, they had seen each other only three times, contriving quick round-trips on the TGV that led to furtive embraces. On the other hand, they called each other nearly every evening. Sometimes they didn’t have that much to say; other times, they talked for hours. Their relationship developed haltingly and with plenty of awkward moments.

Even though they’d tried to avoid the topic, their last case had left an indelible stamp on their minds. Inner suffering would take time to heal. In the hours following her arrest, Coline Quinat had confessed everything. The names of military top brass, members of the secret service, certain politicians and scientists. An unofficial research and neurosurgery center devoted to Syndrome E and deep brain stimulation had been established in the hidden recesses of the army’s health services, thirty feet belowground. There, they studied the phenomenon, established experimental protocols, and performed surgeries. Slowly but surely, piece by piece, the think tank behind the operation would crumble. The case was far from closed, and the restrictions on military secrets didn’t make it any easier, but those who should pay would soon be made to pay. Supposedly…

Lucie turned back to her twins, who were sitting in a puddle. Given the crowds, she had ordered them to stay nearby. The girls were playing a few yards away, laughing. Water, sand, and sun—all you needed for happiness. No more video games; Lucie had thrown out all the consoles. To preserve her daughters as much as possible from the world of images, their intrinsic violence, their harmful effects on the mind. Get back to the basics, those old wood or plastic toys, manual activities, paper and paste. Everything was being lost so quickly with technological advances. In some ways, Quinat was right: the world was running headlong into a wall.

In a week, the holidays would already be over. She’d have to go back to Lille, shut herself up in the apartment, and think. Think about the future, about making a better tomorrow out of a life that moved too fast. Lucie let some sand run between her fingers, telling herself yet again that she couldn’t exist, that she couldn’t reach her full potential if she wasn’t a cop. Her job was like a gene, inextricably attached to her cell structure. It was her profession that made her Lucie Henebelle, that gave her her real identity. At the same time, she knew she could improve, be a better mother, a better daughter too. Deep down, she felt she could do it. It was all a matter of willpower.

Lucie’s face broke into a wide smile when she heard that particular crunch of sand right behind her. She turned around. Sharko was standing there, in his incomprehensible linen trousers and white short-sleeved shirt, his eyes still behind those patched sunglasses. Lucie stood up and gave him a hug. They kissed. Lucie caressed his cheek with the back of her hand.

“I missed you so much.”

Sharko removed his glasses, gave her a simple smile, put his backpack down on the sand, and nodded his chin toward the twins. He was holding a small package.

“They’re so beautiful… Did you tell them?”

“Why don’t you do it yourself? You’re not that shy, are you?”

“It’s your vacation, for the three of you. I don’t want to horn in on your nightly games of Parcheesi.”

“Oh, of course I told them. They’re looking forward to welcoming you into our little rented cottage, on one condition.”

“Name it.”

Lucie pointed to the package dangling from the inspector’s hand.

“That you stop bringing them candied chestnuts every time you visit. They can’t stand them!”

Sharko raised the package as if to give the candies a good once-over.

“They’re right. These things are disgusting.”

He walked to a trash can, took one last look at the box of glazed chestnuts, and dropped it into the plastic bag. He put back the lid. No more chestnuts… No more cocktail sauce…

The two girls saw him and ran up to give him an affectionate hug. He kissed them on the cheeks and gently petted their hair. They wanted to play ball and he promised to come in a few minutes, warning them they’d better practice up before he got there. Then he sat down next to Lucie, rolling up the cuffs of his trousers.

“So? Your chief?” she asked.

Sharko’s gaze was riveted on the girls. Lucie had never seen such intensity or such tenderness in a man’s eyes.

“Finished. He handed in his resignation yesterday to the big boss. Falling apart like that, just eight years before he’s eligible to retire. After all the sacrifices and tough breaks. The job finally got him.”

“And what about you, your job in Nanterre? The two of us… Did you have a chance… to think about it?”

He picked up a fistful of sand and carefully watched the grains slip through his fingers.

“Did you know that a few years ago, I left it all behind to open a toy store in the north? Then I went back to school for criminology. And after that, I—”

Lucie’s eyes widened.

“You, in a toy store? Are you kidding me?”

He rummaged in his bag and took out the miniature O-gauge Ova Hornby locomotive, with its black car for wood and coal. It shone in the sun.

“The store was called the Little World of Magic. It’s not around anymore—a video games shop took over the space.”

Lucie felt a lump in her throat. Sharko was speaking from deep emotion.

“‘The Little World of Magic’—it’s nice.”

He nodded. The horizon now absorbed his attention.

“I wanted to create an interlude in my life. Take the time to watch my daughter grow up. I wanted to remind myself that I’d once been like her, and that the happiest memories we preserve are of our parents’ faces.”

He delicately put the train back in his bag.

“You know, something important happened during our case. I lost someone who used to occupy a very significant place in my life. Someone, I think, who was there for the sole purpose of telling me things I didn’t want to hear.”

Lucie felt nervous.

“You’re starting to frighten me.”

“Don’t worry—that someone is somebody I never want to see again. And there’s only one way to make that happen: keep moving forward. So in a few days, I’m going to go see the big boss myself, and tell him—”

Juliette ran up and asked if she could get an ice cream, interrupting Sharko. Lucie shot a quick glance at the ice cream man, about ten yards away on the seawall. She tried to stand up to go with her, but Sharko grabbed her by the wrist.

“Wait, let me finish. This all has to come out now.”

Lucie handed her daughter some money.

“Go with Clara, but you come straight back, you hear?”

Juliette nodded. The two little girls ran off through the crowd of vacationers. Sharko started sifting sand again, while Lucie kept an eye on her children from afar.

“I was saying, I’m going to write my boss a letter of resignation. That is, if… if you want me. I don’t know if things’ll work out. I’ve got plenty of ingrained habits, and also… I’d need a special room for my trains, and the kids wouldn’t be able to play with them, because—”

Lucie suddenly leaned toward him and squeezed him against her chest.

“So is that a yes? You’re moving up north?”

He pressed his chin into the hollow of Lucie’s shoulder, then let his eyelids drop.

“A guy can still try out new things at my age, don’t you think? I’m not especially tactful, but I’m not such a bad businessman. And besides… I have a fair amount of cash socked away in my account, and I don’t spend much. Do you think that bar in the old part of town is still for sale?”

Lucie slid her hands under his shirt and affectionately caressed his back. She adored these moments at his side; she needed to make them last, more and more.

“Franck…”

They were silent a few seconds, giving in to the sounds around them. Laughs, shouts, the rustle of the breeze. In this moment of pure happiness and caresses, Lucie glanced over toward the little ice cream wagon. Animated silhouettes constantly crossed her field of vision; the beach was jammed. She craned her neck, could see in the hubbub the five or six people waiting in line for their treat. No sign of her daughters. Lucie raised herself onto her knees, a feather of panic in her throat.

Sharko stood up quickly then, shielding the sun, his body frozen as he looked at the seawall.

“Franck, do you see the girls near the ice cream wagon?”

A breath between them.

“Franck! Franck, tell me you see them…”

Wind floated over the waves, carrying distant sounds of laughter.