The Returned (40 page)

‘No, sir,’ she said.

Thomas went home, on edge the moment he laid eyes on Adèle’s ashen face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said. He saw her flinch a little and told himself to be more calm. ‘What is it?’

Adèle led him through to where Chloé lay asleep on the sofa.

‘What happened?’ he asked. There was nothing obviously wrong.

‘She was on the trampoline and fell off. She was unconscious, briefly.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘Julie was here. She’s a nurse, she checked Chloé over.’

‘Julie?’

‘Julie Meyer. Laure’s ex.’

He nodded, suddenly wary. ‘What was she doing here?’

‘She’s staying next door. There’s a boy staying with her, and he came over to play with Chloé.’

A boy, Thomas thought. He’d heard something about that, something Laure had been handling: the boy who had gone missing with the Costa woman. ‘He was there when she fell?’

Adèle nodded.

‘What did he do?’ he asked, his suspicions growing.

‘I don’t think it was him, Thomas. I think she got dizzy, that’s all. A virus maybe.’

At that, Chloé woke.

‘Are you OK, sweetheart?’ said Thomas.

Chloé was looking at her mother. ‘Why did you want to die?’ she said.

Adèle looked at Thomas, shaking her head, then back to her daughter. ‘What?’

‘I saw you,’ said Chloé. ‘When I was on the trampoline. I saw you in the nightdress, and your wrists were cut. You wanted to die.’

Adèle looked at her daughter in horror, tears starting to form in her eyes. Thomas turned to Adèle, certain of his suspicions now. ‘The boy you mentioned. He’s next
door?’ Cautious, Adèle nodded.

Thomas stood, his mind made up. He went outside, across to Laure’s house, and knocked on the front door. ‘Open up,’ he said. ‘Julie Meyer, open up.’

No answer; no sounds from within. He knocked harder and called once more, raising his voice. Again, no answer came.

He waited, sure someone was there. After a few minutes he saw a car approach: Laure coming home. She got out, looking at her captain.

‘Sir?’ she said.

He nodded to the door. ‘Where’s he from? Your friend’s little boy?’ She shook her head. Thomas felt his impatience soar. ‘Inspector,’ he said.
‘You’ve been keeping things from me, and it must stop. Tell me where he’s from.’

Laure was reluctant, but she answered: ‘We don’t know.’

‘I want to talk to him. Now.’

Her face stiffened. ‘No, sir.’

‘No?’ He glared at her, appalled by the insubordination. ‘
No?
’

‘I don’t think that would be appropriate, sir. He’s a child, and you seem . . . agitated.’

Her eyes went to Thomas’s hand. He looked down and carefully unclenched his fist.

‘Bring him to the station in the morning,’ he said slowly. ‘Listen to me,
Inspector
. When we go back, he comes with us. It’s for your safety. Do you
understand?’

She nodded. ‘Sir.’

He watched her for a few seconds until he was satisfied that she really did understand, that she would follow orders. Then he returned home to make sure his family was safe.

Laure managed to keep herself from shaking as she opened the door. She wasn’t sure how many bridges she’d just burned. Julie was sitting holding Victor close to
her. They both looked terrified. The look on her face told Laure she’d heard every word.

Julie gripped Victor tighter and looked at Laure, desperate. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Take us away from here.’

Laure took a deep breath. She thought for a moment, but she couldn’t ignore what Julie’s eyes were telling her. There was no way she could allow her captain to lock the boy up
– as she presumed he intended. It would destroy Julie.

‘Pack some things,’ she said. ‘We’ll wait an hour or so, until it’s dark.’

‘And then?’

‘Then we’re leaving town.’ Maybe the captain would do as he’d earlier instructed her to do – sleep. Maybe.

At least their house was downhill from his. When dark was falling, they crept out and got in the car, and Laure freewheeled down the hill as far as she could, lights off. Then she hit the lights
and they drove. Laure felt good, to see the look of relief on Julie’s face.

Trees flew past either side of them as they took the road towards the dam. Then Laure had a thought.

‘Julie,’ she said. ‘My radio. See, clipped to my belt?’

‘What about it?’

‘Take it off.’ Julie reached across and unclipped it. ‘Now throw it out of the window.’

Julie grinned. ‘You’ll be in trouble,’ she said.

‘That’s OK,’ said Laure. ‘I was getting sick of my job anyway.’

Julie nodded. ‘I think I was sick of your job too.’ She wound the window down and threw the radio out. They both looked back and saw it shatter across the road, then they grinned at
each other.

After crossing the dam Laure settled in for the drive. There was no other traffic around, she realized, nothing at all on the roads since they’d left home. She wanted to put as much
distance between them and the town as she possibly could, even if it meant driving all night.

Soon, though, the monotony of the pines either side of the car got to her. She found herself getting drowsy. She felt the car judder, and snapped her head upright, startled and frightened
– she’d almost drifted off. She wound down her window.

The blast of cold air roused Julie. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Trying to stay awake,’ said Laure. As they rounded the next bend, she slammed on her brakes.

The car slid to a halt. Julie looked at her as if she was mad. ‘What the hell?’

Laure didn’t answer. Instead, she was staring ahead. Julie turned to see. The dam was right in front of them.

‘Haven’t we crossed it already?’ she said.

They shared a look, and Laure drove, faster than before, feeling her pulse quicken. But again the monotony of the pines either side of the road lulled her. Again, she felt that sudden drowsiness
hit, and she looked immediately to Julie. She could see in her eyes that Julie had felt it too.

They drove around the next bend, and there it was.

The dam.

They couldn’t get away.

In the empty Lake Pub, Lucy Clarsen had been waiting in the dark.

She had opened the doors and propped them wide, and now she stood patiently in front of the bar. She knew this place so well, after her year spent working here. She looked around now, at the
familiar tables and chairs waiting for people to come, still neatly laid out.

Not for much longer.

And now they came, at last. Drawn to her once the sun had set, as she’d known they would be. Silent, slow, they shuffled inside. Some were almost untouched by physical deterioration;
others were much further gone, and she could feel their hunger most of all.

Once they were inside, they turned to her. Lucy smiled. She raised her arms slowly, welcoming them.

It was time.

Anton woke to find that the world had gone. All he could see was the white of thick morning mist outside. He turned to the barricade he’d thrown against the control-room
door during the night: an overturned desk and a shelving unit. Not long after nightfall he’d heard someone moving outside, and the knocking had begun. Slow, repetitive. He’d called out
for whoever it was to identify themselves, but there had been no response. He’d stood, listening, sensing that there was more than one person out there. The knocking had grown as others
joined in.

Erecting the barricade was all he could do. Then he had moved a monitor under a desk and huddled there, watching the status of the dam’s sensors with his hands over his ears, until a
restless sleep had taken him.

In the centre of the control room was the alarm switch, which would manually set off the acoustic warning for the town. He wanted to trigger it. Trigger it, and drive. Let the town deal with
what was happening, not him. The thought of the chaos and panic that would follow stopped him, though; he had stayed to watch for problems, not cause them.

He thought of the others: of Eric and the rest of the engineers, running from the crisis. But they had families, responsibilities that he didn’t have. And the time to run had gone now
– he knew it. By staying, he’d taken on a duty he would have to see through. If he’d gone when the others had, maybe he could have convinced himself that the blame fell between
the gaps, and lay with nobody. Run now, and the blame would be solely on his shoulders.

He stared out of the windows into the white, hoping for the mist to clear. He had no idea what time the banging on the doors had stopped, or if those responsible had really gone. Until he was
sure, he would stay where he was. He couldn’t face going outside.

Léna and Camille lay together in the dorm bed, both sleeping.

And in their sleep they dreamed, and they understood what it was: a shared dream, but not one either of them wanted to experience.

They were Camille at first. Four years ago.

‘Do I really have to go on this stupid trip?’ she said.

Her father laughed, eyes to the ceiling. ‘We’ve paid for it. It’s not up for discussion.’

‘But Léna’s allowed to stay at home.’

‘Léna’s sick,’ said her mum.

‘Yeah,
right
. She doesn’t seem that bad.’

Her mum looked at her, patience gone. ‘She has a temperature. Anyway, you’ll enjoy it. It’ll be fun.’

‘I promise you, Mum,’ said Camille. ‘It won’t be.’

And off she went, off to school, onto the coach, her parents giving Léna the benefit of the doubt same as always.

Then they were Léna, lying in bed, feeling more than a little smug at the deception, waiting.

Waiting for Frédéric.

She’d told him to give it ten minutes once they’d gone, just in case. She heard the sound of him climbing the trellis, and reckoned he hadn’t quite managed to wait the full
time. Too eager. She smiled.

He knocked at her door.

‘Come in,’ she said, trying to sound older. Sexier.

They kissed.

They were Camille now, sitting on the coach, bored, listening to music. Wishing she was at home.

They were Léna, as Frédéric moved on top of her, and asked her: ‘Are you sure you want to?’

‘It’s not that,’ she said.

‘Is it because of Camille?’

‘It’s not fair on her,’ said Léna. ‘She’s sort of in love with you.’

‘But I’m in love with you.
Sort of
. A bit.’

‘Just a bit?’ She laughed, and hit him lightly. ‘You bastard!’

‘A big bit.’

And they kissed again.

They were Camille, feeling uneasy for no reason she could pinpoint, watching the trees pass by on the mountain road.

They were Léna, passion raging within her, feeling Frédéric position himself.

‘Léna,’ he said, anxious. ‘Have you ever done it?’

‘No. Have you?’

He shook his head, a look of fear on his face that made her love him more. And then he was inside her, and the feeling stole her breath.

They were Camille, as a shock of sensation hit her, terrified her, and it rose and rose until she couldn’t take it. She stood, gasping for air, and went to the front of the coach.

‘Are you OK, Camille?’ her teacher asked.

‘Please let me out,’ said Camille. She was close to panic now, the heat within her overwhelming. ‘I have to get off.’

‘You can’t get off,’ said the driver. ‘Wait until we’ve passed these turns. It’s too dangerous to stop here.’

‘Please let me out!’ she screamed, and she moved to the door, banging on the glass as her teacher tried to take her arms, as the driver shouted at her, looking at her, distracted,
then saw something in the road ahead of them. Suddenly the coach veered wildly. Camille felt herself thrown hard into the door, catching a brief sight of what the driver had swerved to avoid: a
small boy, the glimpse too fleeting to let her see his face, to have any more than an impression of him standing there, impassive.

The coach shuddered as it hit the safety wall at the edge of the road. At the edge of the steep drop down.

Then the coach was falling. Camille watched as the ground came to meet them.

They were Léna once more. Léna, suddenly bereft, unable to tell Frédéric what was wrong. He moved to kiss her again, and she pulled away.

Léna and Camille both woke from the dream at the same time. They sat up. All they could do was look at each other, and see the guilt and tears in their eyes.

Betrayal, they both thought. Betrayal, and more than that.
Blame
. Blame for the crash itself.

Camille was staring at Léna, stunned.

Léna held her sister. ‘It’s not our fault,’ she said over and over. They wept together, the others in the dorm still asleep.

Laure woke in the car with Julie’s head on her lap, and looked around. The dam was shrouded in fog, thick and impenetrable. When they’d stopped halfway across the
dam last night, it had been with the intention of moving on once the light came, once their route was unmistakable. Neither of them had wanted to keep driving in the dark.

Awake, with a clear road and the sun overhead, surely whatever had happened before, whatever kink in the natural scheme had led them in circles . . . Surely that would be powerless in the
day.

Not if the day was like this, she thought now. They would have to wait longer than planned.

Julie stirred.

‘Morning,’ said Laure. Julie smiled, and Laure looked in the back of the car. Victor was there, watching. ‘How long have you been awake?’ she asked him. He smiled.
‘Didn’t you sleep well?’ He shook his head.

‘He hardly ever sleeps,’ said Julie.

Laure made no comment, but inside she resolved to get moving as soon as the fog had lifted at all, even if it only thinned out a little.

‘Did you get some rest?’ asked Laure.

‘Some,’ said Julie, but Laure’s eyes had fixed on something in the rear-view mirror.

‘What’s that?’ she said, half-whispering. She got out of the car, went to the back. On the rear windscreen were handprints in the condensation left by the fog. Handprints,
covering the glass. Julie got out too and joined her, followed by Victor.