Page 106 of Where the Snakes Sleep

8 July 2003

Another one.

God.

I cannot write the name yet.

I cannot.

* * *

10 July 2003

I wrote the name on another page and tore it out. The person remains missing whether I write it or not.

Henri says people are panicking because they want drama. Meanwhile, he has been calm. So calm. That terrifies me more than if he were pacing, shouting, breaking things.

Twenty-five years, and I know every version of his anger.

This is not anger. This is management.

He has begun managing catastrophe as if it were merely another difficult project. Who needs reassuring, which files should be moved, what language should be used, who should speak to investigators, and who should not.

I listened to him briefing the staff this morning and realized he sounded exactly as he does before presenting research.

I vomited afterward.

He found me in the bathroom, knelt beside me, and held my hair away from my face as he rubbed my back.

I looked at him and thought, “Did you do this?”

I could not say it.

He kissed my forehead, then helped me to bed. It is so hard to question him when he is showing he still cares for me.

* * *

18 July 2003

Nadia is frightened more than ever. She came to the cottage tonight rather than meeting me at Le Mas.

I did not tell Henri.

Nadia believes the disappearances are connected to what she uncovered. She has names of buyers, payment records, and documentation of animals arriving through channels that should not exist.

She also believes certain research materials left Le Mas for people who had no legitimate reason to possess them.

I asked whether she had proof, and she responded that she wants to go to the police.

I told her to wait.

She stared at me with such contempt that I felt physically small. I explained that I do not know whom Henri can influence. She said that is exactly why waiting is dangerous.

We argued. She cried.

I have never seen Nadia cry.

When she finally calmed, she showed me a photograph of Camille she keeps in her wallet. Eight years old now.