The conversation was futile. Neither of us was prepared to give ground. Perhaps because it was pointless to try and assign blame; perhaps because both of us were simultaneously guilty and innocent, victim and executioner; perhaps because the only thing that could be said for certain was that in 1992 there had been a bewitching girl at the Lycée Saint-Exupéry who drove those she allowed into her life insane. Because when you were with Vinca, you had the preposterous illusion that her very existence was the answer to a question that we all ask ourselves: How can I make it through the night?

3.

The tension in the air was electric. The three dogs now had me backed against the wall. I could feel the palpable danger—my heart hammering in my chest, my shirt sticking to my skin—this inexorable procession toward death. Alexis DeVille had the power to end my life with a wave or a word. Now that I had finally come to the end of my investigation, I realized that there were only two choices: kill or be killed. Despite my fear, I kept talking.

“You could have adopted a child. You could have had one yourself.”

Utterly in the grip of her dangerous delusion, Alexis DeVille stepped closer and jabbed her finger at my face.

“No! Don’t you understand, I wanted Vinca’s baby. A baby with her genes, her perfection, her grace, her beauty. A perpetuation of our love.”

“I know you supplied her with Rohypnol, thanks to the sketchy prescriptions you got from Dr. Rubens. It’s a pretty twisted kind of love that can only blossom when you turn your lover into a junkie.”

“You disgusting little…”

Alexis DeVille was at a loss for words. She was finding it increasingly difficult to control the dogs. I felt my chest tighten, felt a stabbing pain in my heart. I was on the brink of passing out. I tried to ignore the panic and drove home the final nail.

“You know the last thing that Vinca said to me before she died? She said, ‘Alexis forced me. I didn’t want to sleep with him!’ For twenty-five years, I completely misunderstood what she meant, and it cost a man his life. But I know now. She meant: ‘Alexis DeVille forced me to sleep with your father, but I didn’t want to.’”

My breathing was ragged. My whole body was shaking. I felt as though the only way out of this nightmare was to split myself in two.

“You see, Vinca died knowing what a vile human being you are. So you can build a thousand Gardens of Angels, but you’ll never be able to rewrite history.”

Overcome by rage, Alexis DeVille signaled to her dogs.