“I think I do. Commissaire Girard is going to meet me there, just to make sure everything’s all right. I have to do a walk-through with him and sign some papers because the police took some things from the apartment.” She paused. “I think he must be satisfied that it’s safe.”

Lucy didn’t like this one bit. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come? Someone should stay with you.”

“I’m sure. I’m a big girl now, and when Girard leaves, I’ll put the chain across the door and I won’t open it for anybody. Okay?”

“What if you have to go out? Do you have food?”

“Yes, Mom. There’s soup in the fridge.”

“Soup for supper?”

“I had a big lunch. I often have soup at night.”

Lucy couldn’t let go. “Listen, if you feel the least bit nervous or anything at any time, give us a call. Your dad and I can be there in a few minutes.”

“Will do,” promised Elizabeth. “Now relax. Everything will be fine.”

Lucy knew she had no choice but to let her daughter go home, but she couldn’t help worrying about her safety. She was reminded of those nights when Elizabeth was in high school and was going out with friends. The danger then in Tinker’s Cove was underage drinking and driving, and Lucy always used to tell Elizabeth she could call for a ride home, at any hour of the night, if she found herself in a risky situation. Back then Elizabeth had to deal only with peer pressure from kids, not quite the same as the threat posed by the professional criminals who, the police believed, had tortured and killed Sylvie.

It was rush hour in the Métro, and Lucy’s attention was focused on getting safely through the stampeding crowds of commuters without being trampled underfoot or losing her bag to a pickpocket. She was tired and was looking forward to relaxing with a glass of wine and some lively conversation when she got home, but her friends were not in a convivial mood.

“We’re just back from the lawyers,” said Rachel. “I’m afraid they weren’t much help.”

“Useless, utterly useless,” fumed Bob. “They said we should be patient and have faith in the French justice system. That’s it.”

“I wonder how much they’re charging Norah,” said Sue.

“Oh, plenty, you can be sure of that,” said Bob.

“Better Norah than us,” said Sid. “She can afford it.”

“The office was very luxurious,” said Rachel, “and in a very nice neighborhood. Gucci, Hermès, that sort of thing.”

“Absolutely rotten with little dogs,” added Bob, practically snarling.

“Bob stepped in some pooh,” said Rachel.

“In the lawyer’s office?” Lucy couldn’t believe it.

“No. In the street,” said Rachel.

“Dog doo, red tape, it’s all the same merde,” said Bill.