by Blake Pierce
As she replaced the receiver after her final call, there was a loud knock at the door.
Captain Palomer, the station commander, marched in, visibly smoldering with anger.
“I have just been speaking with Pierre Dubois, who is in custody here. What is happening? This is unbelievable. Please explain your actions.”
Granger exchanged a glance with Bisset, before replying politely.
“Evening, Captain. Yes, we arrested him an hour ago.”
“Without my permission?”
The captain’s face, always florid, had turned brick red with anger. He leaned on the desk, spreading his plump fingers out and glowering at Granger.
“You were unavailable so we consulted with the area commander.”
Granger kept his tone calm. He was well aware that the captain’s absence had been a stroke of luck for them. He was certain that if the captain had been available, he would have ordered them not to arrest Pierre. After all, the original artwork in Palomer’s office had been gifted to him by one of Pierre’s studios, and his wife headed up one of the marketing firms that Pierre used.
“This is crazy! We are arresting a community leader, someone who has an impeccable reputation.”
“With all due respect, sir, Pierre’s community involvement and reputation will be discussed during the trial, where people can make their own decisions about it, but that fact could not prevent his arrest.”
“I order you to drop the charges against him. You have acted irresponsibly and have not followed due process. Send him home immediately.”
Bisset cleared her throat and Granger saw she looked even angrier than Palomer.
“We followed due process every step of the way. That is why we made this arrest, sir. Not to make the arrest, with compelling evidence against this suspect, would have been a dereliction of our duty.”
“Show me the paperwork,” Palomer snapped. “Pierre informed me that he hired a foreign au pair a few days ago and that he suspects her of stealing, and other crimes. Why was she not arrested?”
“There was no evidence against her,” Bisset insisted.
Despite Granger’s own misgivings about the emotionally unstable au pair, he knew Bisset felt extremely sympathetic toward her. After Margot’s funeral, Bisset had shared her fears that she believed the au pair was either being sexually assaulted, or pursued with sexual intent, by Pierre. Based on the testimonies from the other interviews, Granger couldn’t help but agree this was likely, and he’d been relieved to return her passport to her. She was an innocent nobody who’d unwittingly been caught up in this situation, and could now go on her way and live her life—hopefully finding better emotional balance along the way.
“Please take a look at our dossier. And tell me, sir, if this was a poor man from the suburbs of Grigny, would you have arrested him? Based on the evidence, I think so. We cannot make an exception for those who are wealthy or well connected,” Bisset insisted to Palomer.
She shoved the file across the desk.
Granger was sure Bisset wanted to add that making an exception would constitute corruption, but she didn’t say it. The political tightrope was a careful balancing act that had to be respected, even when you knew you were doing the right thing.
“Pierre has an expert legal team at his disposal,” he said quietly. “I am sure that they will do their best to counter the evidence against him, and enable the judge to make the best decision. However, we had to act according to our mandate as officers of the law.”
As the arresting officer, Granger knew only he or the prosecutor could drop the charges, and he could see Palomer’s evident frustration at the fact.
Granger personally didn’t think that the charges would stick. He knew Pierre would hire the best lawyers money could buy, and would spend whatever it took to clear his name. But in a court of law, the outcome was never certain. Whatever the end result, he was confident that he and Bisset had acted as they should, and he couldn’t help feeling satisfied as Palomer, now purple-faced, grabbed the folder and stalked out of the room.
“How far away from retirement is he?” Bisset murmured.
“Two years,” Granger said. “Sooner, perhaps, if he suffers from medical issues. Hypertension can be exacerbated by frustration, I believe. We can see this one through.”
He gave her a conspiratorial wink, and she smiled in return.
*
Cassie decided to wait in Pierre’s study for the police to call. She pulled out the leather-upholstered chair, and as she perched on its edge, she thought about what Marc had said.
“You are just like Papa.”
Marc’s words had been a shock to her, but they had made her think about how the children had reacted after she’d lost the plot earlier that day. Instead of being upset by her behavior, like a normal child would be, they’d quieted suddenly, reined their unruliness in, and hunkered down, as if they were preparing to handle whatever might come.
Perhaps they had learned these coping mechanisms through experience, to protect themselves when a situation became violent and spiraled out of control.
Where had the violence come from? Margot?
Margot had only been there a year, and in any case, Pierre was clearly the head of the household, and would dictate their treatment as he chose.
Cassie was convinced that Pierre was an abusive father.
She was certain this wasn’t the first time the three had been physically abused. They seemed to be familiar with it and, in fact, it was the only form of discipline they appeared to understand.
Cassie hugged herself, rocking back and forth on the chair as she thought about what the children must have endured, and what a toxic environment they were being raised in. She should have realized, from their consistent rebellion against discipline, what they were trying to tell her. But she’d been too slow on the uptake, she hadn’t understood, and had ended up blaming their antisocial behavior on her own lack of skill.
Cassie jumped as the phone started ringing loudly. She snatched it up, relieved that the call was coming through earlier than she’d expected, and anxious to know what awaited the children.
She realized she should probably have had a pen and paper handy, because she might need to write down notes. She opened the desk drawer and rummaged through it while she answered, doing her best to sound calm and professional.
“Hello. Cassie speaking.”
There was a short pause.
“Baby! I thought you weren’t allowed to answer the phone or take calls.”
Zane’s tone managed to combine hurt, accusation, and triumph.
“Zane?” Cassie was too flabbergasted to do more than stammer out his name, but that gave him all the encouragement he needed to continue.
“I thought you were just blowing me off. I mean, there’s no such thing as people not being allowed to take calls. That was a ridiculous excuse. I never believed it for a moment. But anyway, I wanted to tell you more about this job. They’re keen to interview you, even if it’s a Skype interview, so you can do it from where you are. If you can email your CV through they’ll have a look in the meantime. And of course you can stay at my place when you come back. I don’t hold any grudges after the way you treated me. I’ll be glad to help you get back on your feet again. So, you want me to set you up with this?”
Cassie was so angry she found herself climbing to her feet. The words she wanted to say didn’t feel right while she was sitting down.
She planted her feet on the tile floor and glowered at the opposite wall while she spoke.
“A few things,” she said, pleased by how level her voice sounded. Zane’s unacceptable behavior hadn’t pushed her over the edge or been the last straw that reduced her to tears. On the contrary, she felt strong enough to fight back, and angry enough to tell Zane, at last, exactly what she thought of him.
“Firstly, how dare you doubt what I said? What gives you the right to accuse me of lying? Because that’s exactly what you’ve done, and it isn
’t the first time you’ve done it, either. Do you even realize? Do you have any idea what it makes a person feel like inside, to be unfairly accused of being a liar? But that’s how you conducted our entire relationship. You broke me down, time after time, with this kind of crappy emotional abuse. And I’m not taking it from you again. Because that’s what you are, Zane, you’re an abuser. Just like my father was. I went and chose him all over again when I met you.”
“Baby! I’m no such thing! I was joking when I said that. I didn’t mean it seriously. Please, you’ve misunderstood me completely and now you’ve got me on the back foot. I—”
Zane sounded outraged, but Cassie didn’t give him the chance to speak any further.
“Secondly, you don’t give a shit about me. I told you I’d get into trouble if you phoned. But you don’t care about that. You’re selfish, arrogant, and entitled. You do what you want and you don’t care what the implications are for others. When I realized that, it opened my eyes to who you really were. I dated you because I thought you cared for me. First you ended up emotionally abusing me, then physically abusing me. Finally, you just showed me you don’t care at all if I get into trouble with my employer and, in fact, you’ll take action to make sure I do, because it suits your warped agenda to get me back so you can control me again. What kind of assholery is this? I had to put up with it for some of the worst months of my life, and the only thing I’m thankful for is that it showed me who you really were, and I managed to get away from you.”
She was shouting now, screaming the words at the wall in anger, gripping the phone with all her
“Baby! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It was urgent because the applications close tomorrow, and I wanted you to have a chance.”
Zane sounded panicked now, but yet again, Cassie overrode his protests.
“Thirdly, Zane, I’m the one who has to forgive you. I left because you hit me, and the only reason I didn’t tell you earlier what a disgusting, cowardly act that was, is that you made me too scared of you. Do you like that? Is it fun for you to be in a relationship where the other person is trying to manage your awful, unacceptable, violent, antisocial behavior all the time? Does it make you feel big and good to know how much of an abuser you are? Are you looking forward to making your next girlfriend as ‘happy’ as you made me? I’m sure you are and all I can say is whoever she is, I pity her.”
Cassie lowered her voice with an effort. Even though the children were in the furthest bedroom, they might still hear if she carried on shrieking out her rage.
“I took photos of that bruise and I still have those photos on my phone. I’ll be delighted to go to the police if and when I’m back in the States, and lay a charge of harassment and physical abuse. Have you ever been arrested, Zane? The police don’t like abusers who hit women. I believe they give them a hard time.”
“Baby, please.” Zane gabbled out the words. “I don’t want to contradict you, I’m willing to accept what you say, but it’s not true about that bruise. Please hear me out, I remember better than you, because you’d had too much to drink. I’ve told you this before and I promise you, my version won’t change because it’s the truth. We fought, but I didn’t hit you. I tried to pull you out of the path of a car. The bruises were from that. You would have been knocked over for sure. Yes, I’m full of shit, I gave you a hard time, I wasn’t the perfect boyfriend. All that I’m willing to admit, but I wouldn’t hit you. Genuine. You created that in your own mind.”
Doubt flickered inside Cassie, but she reminded herself to be strong. She wasn’t going to fall for his gaslighting, or believe the alternative reality he was trying to create. Not this time.
“I know what happened. I was there. You don’t forget or misremember when somebody hits you. So don’t ever call me again, not ever in your life, or I’ll come back to the States just to lay that charge.”
“Please, believe what I say, baby. Please don’t…”
Zane’s voice was taut with tension.
Cassie didn’t bother wasting her time listening. She stabbed the disconnect button as hard as she could and put the phone down.
She was still trembling with rage, but she felt utterly triumphant that, at last, she’d spoken her mind to Zane—in full, and without fear.
Why had it taken her so long? Cassie berated herself for not having had the courage to do this earlier. After all, needing to escape from Zane was the reason she’d ended up here. She could have avoided so much stress if she’d managed to stand up to him before leaving.
As the phone rang again, Cassie realized with a jolt that she couldn’t have done it earlier, because the experiences she’d gone through here in France had given her the strength she needed to confront Zane.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Cassie sat down again and let out a deep breath to calm the last of her rage before picking up the ringing phone. She guessed there was a small chance it was Zane calling back, but after the way he’d sounded by the end of their conversation, she doubted it.
The voice on the line was unfamiliar. The woman sounded pleasant, if rather stressed.
“Hello, is that the au pair?” she said.
“Yes, I’m Cassie, and I’ve been looking after the children.”
“I am so glad you are there. My name is Josephine, and I am the sister of Diane, Pierre’s late wife.”
“It’s great to speak to you,” Cassie said, relieved that she wasn’t speaking to a direct relative of Pierre’s. After his recent arrest, his family was bound to be furious.
“I told the police I’d like to call you myself. I am shocked by this news and I’m sure you must be, too. I am coming to Paris immediately so that I can be with the children. I am traveling all the way from Bordeaux, but I’m on the way to the station now, and there is a train leaving in twenty minutes which I will hopefully be in time for, so you can expect me by about nine p.m.”
“That’s great,” Cassie said. “Do you want me to tell the children? Should they wait up?”
“They must be exhausted. That choice is up to them, but please let them know that Aunt Josephine is on her way, and that I have missed them.”
“I will do that,” Cassie said.
She put the phone down, glad that a family member would be arriving that night, and encouraged that Josephine had called personally, rather than having the police phoning on her behalf.
Thinking about what Josephine had said, Cassie realized she obviously hadn’t been to Margot’s funeral. Her words had implied she hadn’t seen the children for a while.
Cassie headed back down the passage to tell the children the news.
They were all huddled together in Antoinette’s bed, and she was reading them a story. Ella was sucking her thumb and Marc looked to be almost asleep.
“Your aunt Josephine is arriving later,” she said. “She asked me to tell you that she’s missed you.”
She’d wondered how the children would react, but hadn’t been prepared for Antoinette’s scream of joy.
“Hooray! Aunt Josephine! We love her so much. Marc, wake up. Aunt Josephine is coming tonight, to look after us.”
Jumping out of bed, Antoinette ran over to Cassie and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you for telling us this.”
“She’s our favorite aunt!” Marc shouted, jumping up and down on the bed. A beaming Ella joined in.
Antoinette made a face at him.
“She’s our only aunt, silly. But she likes to joke with us that she’s our favorite aunt. She’s so nice to us. Cassie, she’s really kind and loving. We sometimes go on holidays to her house, it is so beautiful. She has a farm really close to the sea.”
“There are animals on the farm,” Marc said in between bounces. “She has sheep and cows and horses.”
“And ponies. I rode a pony the last time I was there,” Ella added.
“Do you think our cousins will be coming too?” Marc asked. “I like them a lot. Their names are Tomas and Nicolas, and Nicolas i
s the same age as me.”
“I don’t know, but it sounded as if she was traveling on her own,” Cassie said.
“When will she be here?” Antoinette asked anxiously.
“She said by nine.”
“We will wait up,” Antoinette decided.
“I will come and call you as soon as she arrives,” Cassie promised.
“Thank you so much, Cassie.”
Antoinette hugged her again, squeezing her arms tightly around her, and to Cassie’s surprise both Ella and Marc joined in, hugging her and thanking her.
She hugged them back, sniffing hard, amazed by how emotional this display of gratitude had made her.
“I love you all so much,” she told the children. “I’m happy that your favorite aunt will be here soon. You deserve to be with someone who will be really kind to you.”
Cassie couldn’t believe how the atmosphere in the room had changed after she’d broken this news. The children were happy and positive now, as excited and expectant as if the summer holidays lay ahead.
Cassie wondered if Aunt Josephine reminded them of their mother, and this was partly why they were looking forward to being in her care—at least for now, because she had no idea what would happen in the longer term.
She headed downstairs to clear up the supper dishes, tidy the dining room, and find some snacks for the children. She made a mental note to put her passport away for safekeeping, and to pick up the photo which Marc had thrown to the floor. The glass had cracked but it hadn’t shattered. If it wasn’t too badly damaged, hopefully she could salvage it.
When Cassie reached the hallway, she saw the photo was back in its place. The crack in the glass had been pressed together so it was almost invisible. The envelope with her passport inside had been placed neatly on the corner of the table. She put it in her pocket and zipped it closed, wondering who was working tonight. She’d assumed she was the only one here apart from the children, and checked the front door was locked, just in case.
