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Adam flicked through his notebook.
“Robin. Roxane Robin.”
The name seemed vaguely familiar to me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I’d heard it before.
“Let me guess. About 5’1”, blonde hair up in a ponytail, wearing faded jeans and a black t-shirt?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I have two pieces of bad news for you. The first is that our witness has escaped. The second is that the forensic team hasn’t arrived.”
25
FINN CHAPTER 2
Roxane
I was tearing down the highway in the south of France. Driving in a convertible, my hair blowing in the wind, I could almost have believed I was in a Cardigans video, but zigzagging between families in minivans and tourists’ campervans is slightly less glamorous than driving through the desert.
The longer I drove, the less anxious I felt. Somewhere before Aix-en-Provence I actually started to enjoy this impromptu trip.
I refused to think about what had happened that afternoon and the possible consequences. What scared me wasn’t the fact that I’d seen a dead body—even if I’d rather not have—it was that I was a witness to a murder. Even worse still, I saw the killer, and there wasn’t any doubt about his identity. I knew for certain that if I were to say anything on the matter, he would do the same to me as to that poor guy with the mullet. Did I really want to die with a bullet between my eyes and my brain splattered over some unsuspecting old woman’s kitchen cupboards?
Absolutely not.
And it was a safe bet the guy with the MacGyver hairstyle, lying on the cold kitchen tiles in Madeleine Barale’s house, hadn’t wanted to, either.
Don’t Stop Me Nowby Queen was playing over the radio, and I turned up the volume to sing along with Freddie Mercury. Gradually, the lyrics infused themselves into me, and I believed I was invincible.
It was at that moment a sports car passed me. Its driver, in his twenties, with perfect hair and wearing sunglasses, was the stereotypical guy who wants to show off, even though there’s nothing under the hood. He glanced at me briefly and sped up, but not to speed away. No, the noise from his engine was perfectly calculated to send me a message.
He was provoking me.
Had he sensed that I could never say no to a challenge? Did he want a race? Well, he was going to get one.
I hoped he was on his way to his mother’s, because he was going to need someone to cry to.
We made sure we were side by side, as if on an imaginary start line. Then, after a countdown that only existed in our minds, we both accelerated. Foot firmly pressed on the accelerator, but making sure not to go full out, I let the bragger in the red car gain a few yards. Focused on the road, he must have thought he was having the race of his life. He probably imagined a cheering crowd on the side of the track, chanting his name. When I felt like I’d given him enough room to think he had it in the bag, I put my foot to the floor. It only took me a few seconds to overtake him again.
In my rear-view mirror I saw his surprise, which was quickly replaced with rage. He was ready to retaliate.
This was when I gave up, not because I thought I couldn’t beat him, but because I had common sense. I knew this type of guy was never going to give up, thanks to his manly pride. And maybe it was better for me to keep a low profile. After all, I was in trouble for a few things, and I didn’t need to add a speeding ticket to the list.
Maybe I should have thought of that earlier.
As soon as I got back into the right-hand lane and slowed down to a reasonable speed, there were flashing blue lights and a siren.
Shit!
I hoped they were there for the jerk in the sports car. Maybe if I ducked down and prayed really hard, they wouldn’t even see me. I didn’t stand a chance…
When they caught up to me, the cop pulled up to my side and signaled for me to turn off at the next exit. For a split second I thought about speeding up and trying to escape. I figured that if they didn’t stop me now, I would have a welcoming committee at the next tollbooth. It would be easier to fool two cops than an entire squadron.
I moved to the side, closely followed by the navy-blue car. When it was possible, I parked on the shoulder, awaiting my fate. This was far from being my first rodeo, and I knew panicking wouldn’t help me. I needed to come up with a plan, preferably quickly.
It was the officer sitting in the passenger seat who got out of the car and slowly started to walk toward me, hand resting on his belt. This was definitely to make an impression and to show me he was ready for anything, even drawing his gun if necessary… unless, of course, he had simply eaten too much, and this was his way of loosening his belt and momentarily giving his stomach room to breathe.
He had enormous eyebrows, like two little furry umbrellas for his eyes. But beyond the stern look he gave me, I saw that Mother Nature hadn’t been very kind to him. That was an advantage for me. The good-looking cops were more confident and less easy to corrupt.
