The Courbet Connection (Book 5) (Genevieve Lenard) (18 page)

“I don’t know. That is why I want you to look for him. Go to his flat or do what you usually do.”

He smiled. “What I usually do? You mean you want me to break into his place?”

I swallowed. I couldn’t answer him. Never in my life had I imagined condoning breaking and entering.

Colin chuckled, got up and took his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll go do what I usually do. Just be ready to go home at six. We’re not staying here all night.”

I didn’t answer him, my mind already on the different keywords I was going to use to search for cases similar to Matthieu’s. It disturbed me greatly that someone had the arrogance, the cruelty to take away the free will and freedom of this young man who had been trying to build a future for himself. Soon I lost myself in the search, taking care to follow Francine’s instructions. I wanted my search to remain undetected.

Three hours later, I stretched my back muscles and reached for my coffee mug. It was empty. I swivelled my chair to get up and make my way to the kitchen, but stayed seated when Colin came in. The tightness in his shoulders, the tension around his mouth and the concern around his eyes caused my shoulders to drop. “You didn’t find them, did you?”

“No. I can’t get a hold of Maurice anywhere. And Michael is nowhere to be found. His neighbours didn’t even know he lived in that flat.” He sat down next to me. “My God, Jenny. His neighbours are mostly students, his age. They showed no interest in his wellbeing at all. It’s a disgrace.”

“Young people are notoriously self-centred. Nikki did tell us that she and Rebecca were his first and only friends. Do you think we should be worried about Michael?”

Colin intertwined his fingers and rested his hands on the top of his head. “I don’t know. I think we should continue looking for him, but maybe not tell Nikki. Not yet.”

“Why not? I’m not lying to her.”

“I don’t want you to lie to her. I just don’t want to cause unnecessary worries.” He tilted his head back towards the team room. “Where’s Francine?”

“In her basement. She mumbled something about ‘too much’ and ‘so much’ and that she had to make sure about something. She didn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, she gets like that. Did you find something?”

“Sadly, yes.” I had truly hoped that my suspicions would be unfounded and my search a waste of time. “I’ve only searched for missing young people in and around Strasbourg and have found three that fit a specific profile. Two young men and one young woman.”

“Tell me first about the specific profile. How did you get it?”

“I looked at the background information on Matthieu, as little as it was. Then I searched for young people aged between eighteen and twenty-three, with no active social life, excelling at university, but not noticed by anyone. Matthieu had a Facebook profile, but it has no information publicly available. His university has a strong social networking site and the students are very active on it. Not him. He has minimal information on it and only two photos of a puppy.” I was
getting sidetracked by the details. “I used his profile as a baseline and eliminated the missing persons who have active social lives and have family and friends looking for them.”

“Until a few months ago, Michael also fit that profile.”

“But now he has Nikki and Rebecca as friends. And we are looking for him. Nobody is looking for these three kids.” I pointed at the monitor. “The investigator’s comments were that they most likely discontinued their studies and moved away.”

“It’s easy to assume that someone would drop out of university to travel or find a job and live it up.”

“I’m going to start another search, but with broader geographical perimeters. There might be many more young people who fit this profile.”

“No.” Colin sat up and grabbed my hands to prevent me from reaching my keyboard. “We’re going home. It’s already twenty past six and Vinnie has made dinner.”

“Did he punch something? Is he in a better mood?”

“He sounded cheery when I spoke to him. Nikki is helping him in the kitchen and you know how that makes him.”

“Gentle.”

“Come on.” Colin got up and pulled my hands. “We can get back to this tomorrow morning.”

I didn’t like leaving in the middle of a search. Experience had taught me, though, that I could never work hard enough or fast enough. I switched off my computers, hoping that an evening at home would aid in making the connections still hovering in the back of my mind.

“I don’t want to be here. We should be at the office.”

“It’s twenty minutes to eight in the morning, Jenny. I should still be sleeping.” Colin yawned and stretched his neck to one side. “But here I am with you at our favourite café. Oh, the sacrifices I make.”

“If being here is a sacrifice, why did you force me to come?” I studied his expression to correctly interpret his last statement. Whenever Colin was tired or sleepy, he reverted to forms of speech that could be euphemistic. Or not.

Colin chuckled. “I was being ironic, love. Sitting here in the early-morning sun, in my favourite place, about to eat my favourite breakfast with my favourite girl is really no hardship.”

When I had come out of the shower this morning, Colin had declared that we had to come to the historic district of Strasbourg for breakfast. He had reasoned that he deserved a Saturday morning breakfast even though it was not going to be leisurely or at a later hour. If he had to spend the whole weekend working, at least he deserved some compensation.

I’d relented only when he’d agreed to have me in the viewing room no later than nine o’clock. He’d jumped out of bed, showered and was dressed in record time. Then he wasted ten minutes looking for his watch. He really liked the one I’d given him for Christmas. When I’d pointed out, a third time, that he had another six watches, he’d grinned at me and took the one he’d told me he’d bought in Venice.

I loved Strasbourg’s old town. Nestled on the island formed by two arms of the River Ill, its picturesque ambience never failed to enchant me. It was an interesting blend of the city’s historic past, the German influence on the architecture as visible as the French. The Gothic cathedral was the central point for me and my favourite building. A close second were the crooked half-timbered houses. Their imperfection added a happy charm to the scenery.

All the streets and little alleyways had restaurants, cafés, pubs and shops that kept the area bustling late into the evenings. But early mornings were my preferred time in the old town. People were only just getting up, leaving the streets uncrowded and giving me the opportunity to relax and absorb the ambience.

Our waitress brought our coffee, but only looked and spoke to Colin. The body language of all the staff here clearly communicated their discomfort with me. The first time we’d come here was with Vinnie. I had refused to order anything from a kitchen I could not see. Vinnie and Colin had ordered brunch, laughing when I cited the bacteria found in the average restaurant kitchen. The following week, Colin had arranged for me to see the kitchen. I’d approved and we frequented it at the weekends. In the summer months like now, we’d stop by more than once a week.

I also enjoyed sitting quietly with Colin, watching people, analysing their body language. It never failed to amuse and amaze me how much I learned about people’s relationships by watching their interactions. Our breakfasts arrived and again the waitress avoided speaking to and looking at me.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about work.” Colin took a bite of his omelette as soon as the waitress turned away. “We’ll be there soon. Right now you should focus on—”

“I wasn’t thinking about work.”

“Oh. Good.” He slid his chair a bit closer. “What were you thinking about?”

I took another bite of my croissant and looked at the people walking past us. It was still too early for most tourists, but the day had started rather hot and already tourists were walking through the streets in flip-flops, shorts and tank tops. “I was thinking about people’s fear of that which they don’t know.”

“Hm-mm.”

A young couple walked past us, hand in hand. The man’s physique evidenced hours spent in the gym on a daily basis. The young woman was toned, tanned and groomed. Her summer pants fitted perfectly and the tight t-shirt allowed glimpses of her midriff. Her long brown hair shone in the sun, completing the picture of a healthy young woman. This was a picture-perfect couple. The only imperfections on the man were the two tattoos on the man’s left bicep, if one were to regard those as imperfections.

As they walked away from us, I noticed another imperfection. The woman pushed her hand through her hair, pulling her t-shirt up and revealing a long scar on her right side, running diagonally from her back around her side down to her hip. The surgery she’d had could not have been recent. The scar was no longer pink or raised. I tilted my head to the side and stared at her scar while everything and everyone else around me receded into the background.

The connection that had been just beyond reach for the last fourteen hours burst through my consciousness. I gasped, the horror of this insight pulling me away from reality. Dark edges entered my peripheral vision, creeping closer to put me into a total shutdown.

“Jenny?” Colin was sitting closer to me, rubbing my arm, his tone gentle, calm. “Love? God, you’re pale. What’s wrong?”

I took a shuddering breath and grabbed his hand. “I need to get to my viewing room. Now.”

“Okay.” He called our waitress over and pulled out his wallet. The darkness was creeping closer and I fought it the only way I knew how. I closed my eyes and mentally pulled up a clean music sheet. In order not to completely shut down, I concentrated on Colin’s voice while I slowly drew the G-clef. I took pleasure in creating the curls before I started with the F-clef. As I mentally drew the first flat, Colin took both my shoulders in his hands.

“Jenny?”

I carefully wrote the other flat and the first bar of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.27 in B flat major before I felt ready to open my eyes.

“Ready to go?”

I nodded and got up stiffly. Part of why I loved this part of the city was the lack of traffic. The streets were mostly empty, which meant it would be a five-minute walk before we reached Colin’s car. He took my hand in a firm grip and allowed me to set the pace. It was hard to focus on walking when all I wanted was to crawl into the safety of Mozart.

“Can you talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“Can you talk at all?”

The slight humour in his voice brought some lightness in my chest. Colin’s calm acceptance of the shutdowns and meltdowns I experienced helped me get through them much faster. The lack of stress or fear of malice and rejection was liberating. I focussed on an advertising board at the end of the street and took a deep breath. I held it for a few seconds before I slowly exhaled. “I don’t want to talk now.”

“Got it.” We reached the SUV and were on the road within seconds. Colin fiddled with the sound system controls on the
steering wheel. A second later a Mozart concerto filled the cabin. “This okay?”

I nodded, closed my eyes and relaxed into the soothing sounds of the fresh-sounding composition for flute and harp. Slowly the tightness in my throat and chest that accompanied such moments of panic subsided. I opened my eyes at the sound of a phone ringing. Colin had his smartphone on speaker and the call was answered almost immediately. It was Manny. “What’s wrong, Frey?”

“Can’t I just phone you for an early-morning chat?”

Annoyed breathing came through the phone. “Frey.”

Colin chuckled. “Jenny’s got some insight into something. We’re going in to the office now.”

“What insight?”

“Don’t know yet. She’s working through it.”

“Ah.” Manny dragged out the sound. After working with me for two years, he’d interpreted this euphemism Colin had used. “I’m on my way in now. I’ll meet you in the office.”

Without any kind of farewell, the call ended. Their conversation had taken my mind off the horror of my conclusion and my control slid back into place. A few minutes later, we reached Rousseau & Rousseau. Since this was a Saturday, Colin easily found parking and soon we walked into the team room.

“Whatcha got, Doc?” Manny got up from his desk.

I shook my head and walked into my viewing room. I made sure to close the glass door behind me, but it opened again as I sat down. Fortunately, neither man asked any questions. I turned on my computer and waited impatiently for the machine to take the forty seconds it needed to boot up.

Behind me, Colin was telling Manny about the three kidnapped students I’d found yesterday. Manny started asking Colin questions, but my computer was ready. I entered the
keywords into my preferred search engine and got sixty-six million results in a thirty-third of a second. I clicked on the link to a more reputable site and groaned loudly.

“I was right. I don’t want to be right.”

“Right about what, Jenny?” Colin sat down next to me.

“The auction was for Matthieu’s organs.”

“Bloody hell, Doc.” Manny pulled the third chair in my room to my other side and sat down. “Explain.”