“About ten years,” he said. “We met when we were twenty-one and got married at twenty-five. Our parents said we were too young, that we needed to accomplish more. But I was deeply in love. Too much maybe.”

“Seems like you’re still holding on,” she said.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It was a long time ago. We had friends in common at the time. We shared the same interests like music, movies or fashion. You know, the kind of things that change over time and become meaningless.”

“I see,” she said. “It was too superficial you mean?”

“I’m not sure. In a way, yes, but it wasn’t that obvious at the time. We took different paths. Julie is very career driven and ambitious. Enough is never enough. Social status and perception became more and more important in her eyes,” he said.

She nodded, silent, like she was waiting for more. John could have stopped talking. He’d told Cécile what she wanted to know. It was none of her business, after all. And it was very personal. But somehow, he needed to get it off his chest. He needed to let someone know how he felt. And he knew he could trust her.

“You saw the car I’m driving,” he said. “Nobody’s going to turn their head when I drive by. I don’t have a high social status. I’m a police Detective, not a white collar in a big company. She asked me to change and I tried. But I realized she wanted me to become someone else, so we agreed it was better to go our separate ways.”

Cécile was still listening carefully and gently rested her hand on his. “You made the right choice, John,” she said. “Stay the way you are.”

He said nothing and simply nodded. They finished eating in silence and as promised, Cécile paid for the two of them. They walked for a while in the now quiet streets and finally got to his car, an old black Honda.

“Where to?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Anywhere warm,” she said rubbing her arms.

“Okay,” he said.

Without asking, he took her to his apartment. She didn’t seem surprised and said nothing. She just followed him as they walked to his building, side by side. John took her tiny hand. She was cold, but her skin was soft. She squeezed back and smiled.

He prepared hot chocolate for both of them, and they sat on the couch. John hadn’t brought anybody home for months. After an hour or so, he wondered what was next.

“You don’t have to bring me back home,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s late. You’re not worried you’ll be attacked again?”

She shook her head. “I feel safe around you.”

“But I won’t be there to protect you this time,” he said.

“That’s why I don’t want to go home,” she said.

He looked at her. She was serious. And beautiful. He leaned forward and gently kissed her.

“Then stay,” he said as she kissed him back.

10

The next morning, John woke up next to Cécile. At first he was surprised to see her. He wasn’t sure whether he was still dreaming or not. But he was awake and she was there. It was real.

She was completely naked and wrapped in his bed sheets. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed them. After the wild night they had spent together, though, it was now more than urgent to drop everything in the washing machine.

He got out of bed and prepared coffee for two. It felt natural. It even felt good to wake up next to her. It wasn’t one of those weird moments in the morning after a not-so-great one night stand. He felt totally comfortable. He wasn’t in a hurry to kick her out of his place, as it had happened a few times before. No. Actually, he wanted her to stay. As long as she wanted.

She had told him she felt safe around him. He knew what she meant. In fact, he felt the same. No, actually he really felt alive around her. Cécile, he thought with a smile.

He checked the time and gently shook her shoulder.

“Morning,” he said. “Time to wake up and go to work.”

She rubbed her sleepy eyes and stretched her arms. “No,” she said.

“Come on, don’t be like my daughter,” he said.

“Do you know what day it is today?” she asked.

“Yes. Thursday. Why?”

“It’s November 11th, John.”

Armistice Day, he thought. He’d completely forgotten. “Oh. Right,” he said.

She followed him in the kitchen, wearing his shirt. “I’ll be off tomorrow too,” she said. “So I can enjoy the long week end. Do you have to work?”

“Probably not,” he said. “But I’m still thinking about the case. There’s something wrong. It doesn’t match.”

“You still think Daniel killed her?” she asked, pouring him coffee into a mug. “Sugar?”

“Just one,” he said. “Yeah, so far that’s the strongest lead we’ve got.”

“What about the other leads?”

John slowly brought his mug to his lips, smelled the strong aroma and swallowed the hot beverage. He exhaled deeply and slowly, stretching out the silence.

“There’s no other leads,” he finally said.

Her lips pinched as if to say, sorry to hear that.

“And what’s bothering you?” she asked. “What do you mean by it doesn’t match?”

“His sexual behavior,” he said.

Cécile raised her eyebrows and blinked twice. Her mug stopped in midair on its way to her lips.

“And how do you know about his sexual behavior?” she said. “Are you hiding something from me?” She winked.

He smiled. She was very witty, even at seven in the morning, he thought.

“I went to that club you told me about,” he said.

“Le Club Coquin?” she asked. “Really?”

She was trying to suppress a smile.

“I stayed at the bar,” he said, feeling that he had to justify himself.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, still controlling her smile.

“For work, Cécile,” he said, feeling that she was about to burst into laughter.

“I know, I know,” she said, calming down. “Sorry. So?”

“So, it seems like Dupont is not a dominant type at all, sexually speaking. He might be professionally but behind closed doors, he’s quote, as tough as a ballerina, unquote,” John said.

“I see,” Cécile said. “Role playing to release the pressure, right?”

“Exactly. But he’s still the main suspect, in my opinion. I just need to understand. We’re probably missing something,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes. Or maybe not.”

He stared at her. “You don’t think he did it?” he asked.

“I’m not really surprised about what you just told me,” she said. “I think he’s insecure deep inside. He needs to be an asshole to get respect. That’s why he’s a jerk at work sometimes. Because he’s not strong enough to get respect by being nice.”

She paused. “Not like you, for example,” she said with a shy smile.

John kept looking at her but said nothing. He stood up and took her by the arm. Then, he gently pulled her into his bedroom, pressed her against him and kissed her. Gently at first. Then harder, until his guts were on fire. They kissed long and hard, rolling in the bed. The bedsheets could wait, he thought. She grabbed his hair and started biting his ears. Like a lioness.

He was about to go down on her when his cell-phone rang. John decided to ignore it. It stopped and rang again a few seconds later. John was now between Cécile’s legs. The phone stopped and rang a third time.

Maybe it’s about Claire, he suddenly thought. An emergency?

He picked up without looking at the caller’s ID.

“Montclair,” he said.

“John, you have to bring your ass over here,” Sovann said. His voice sounded like he had bad news.

“Why? What happened?” John said, now sitting and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s him again,” Sovann said. “The Dark Stallion.”

“Who?”

“It’s our man, John. Happened last night. Same process. Woman in her late thirties, early forties. Handcuffs and candle wax.”

“Shit. What did you call him again? The Dark Stallion?”