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He hung up. “A woman fell off her bicycle and was hit by a car, but will recover. Nothing else.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“I know.”
“We have to find him. There must be a way.”
“There is.” Armand stared at his phone. About to do something he loathed. Something he knew Daniel would find hard to forgive.
But there was so much unforgiven already—what was one more violation?
He pressed the app. And waited, staring at the screen, as it changed to GPS. To a map of Paris. To the île de la Cité.
“But it’s not working,” said Reine-Marie. “It’s showing our location.”
“Oui.” Armand stared up. At the façade of the old hospital. “Daniel’s here.”
The cop at Stephen’s door let them in. Daniel was sitting beside Stephen’s bed. With one hand, he held Stephen’s hand. In the other, he held his phone.
And Armand saw the outrage in his son’s eyes.
CHAPTER 32
We need to talk,” Armand said to Daniel as soon as they’d returned to Stephen’s suite at the George V.
Jean-Guy was there and introduced his colleague Séverine Arbour.
They greeted her, but before Beauvoir could explain, Armand said, “Excusez-moi,” and turned to Daniel. “Come with me, please.”
Armand walked up the stairs, but Daniel stayed behind until his mother said, “Go. Please.”
His father had asked him, in the taxi over, if he’d gone to see Commander Fontaine, but Daniel had refused to answer. As he’d done since he was a child, when angry, Daniel clamped shut. Refusing to talk. To make eye contact. To acknowledge anything and anyone.
Now he slowly followed his father up the stairs while the others exchanged glances.
Honoré was having a nap in the second bedroom, and Roslyn had taken the girls into the courtyard garden of the hotel for afternoon tea.
Those in the living room tried not to listen, but still, they heard enough.
“What?” demanded Daniel when they got into Stephen’s bedroom and his father had closed the door.
“What?” said Armand, turning to face him. “One man is dead, another probably dying. We’re in the middle of God knows what scale of crime, and you’re sulking?”
“Sulking? You spied on me. You tracked my movements. My own father suspects me of having something to do with all this shit. I’m not sulking, I’m in a rage, you … asshole.”
“You never speak to me like that, do you understand?” His father stared at him until Daniel dropped his eyes. But did not apologize.
“I’m deeply, deeply sorry for what happened twenty-five years ago,” Armand went on, barely containing his own anger. “I wish with all my heart it hadn’t. I wish I’d realized what had gone wrong. I wish we hadn’t lost all that time together, but it’s happened. I’ve apologized and I’ll spend the rest of my life saying I’m sorry, if you want, but you need to set it aside for now.”
“No, you don’t get off that easily. Do you have any idea what it feels like, to have your own father not just suspect you of a crime, but spy on you?”
“I used a tracking app to find out where you were, yes. Because we were afraid. Your mother and I called over and over. When you didn’t answer, we got worried. You know why?”
Daniel scowled, and remained silent.
“Because we love you. I used that tracker not because I suspect you, but because I love you. Because the thought of anything happening to you had me terrified. I’d do anything, anything, to find you. To protect you. Anything. And if it means you’re safe, but you hate me for the rest of your life, that’s a price I’m willing to pay. I hope to God you’d do the same for me.”
He dropped his voice almost to a whisper. “If you don’t know by now, Daniel, how much I love you, then I’m afraid you never will.”
