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Juliette shrugged. "For the moment, let's follow that theory and see if we can rule it out."
At that moment, her phone rang. It was Sierra calling.
"How are things going your side?" Juliette asked, as she walked out into the pallid spring sunshine.
"I've been working here, and I've picked up something." Sierra sounded excited. "I’ve found a potential criminal who checks a lot of the boxes. And I know where he’s likely to be."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Juliette felt motivated as she climbed out of the car after yet another breakneck, jerky drive through Paris, courtesy of Lucien. She couldn't wait to find out what their tech whiz kid had discovered. It might be the breakthrough they needed.
Now, having left the pathologist’s offices, they were back in the more scenic part of the city. The police station, or Prefecture de Police, was located in a gray stone building, with an ornate wrought iron balcony on the second floor, and a trio of French flags fanning out on poles above the main doorway. Outside, two policemen were waiting, speaking on radios.
"Well, this is it," Lucien said, as he slammed the car door. "Let's go."
Juliette really didn't want to make comparisons as she walked past the waiting police, but she had to admit to herself that the Parisian police were more effortlessly stylish than their American counterparts. Perhaps it was their hats - sleek, dark berets with white piping. Perhaps it was the design of their uniforms, or maybe the way they wore them.
Even Lucien, in his plainclothes of dark jeans and a sleek black jacket, cut an elegant figure. Just a pity about his personality, she thought, as he marched inside without any attempt at collaboration.
"Come on, we don't have time to waste," he snapped, as Juliette hurried after him. "Meeting you at the airport has already taken too much away from my day."
Drawing in an outraged gasp at that cheekiness, she rushed through the doorway.
Once inside, they were ushered through to a large, open-plan office with a few desks, and a few uniformed officers sitting at them, all hard at work, some in small meetings, collaborating around tables. The air smelled faintly of good coffee.
At the far end, Juliette spotted Sierra, her tan face brightly illuminated by the screen in front of her.
"What have you got?" Juliette asked eagerly, hurrying over to her, aware of the curious glances of the other police as she passed.
"It's here. I've been taking a look at social media in the area, logging onto chat sites, and looking at news articles."
Wondering how much of this was legally done, and how much of it was gold-standard hacking, Juliette asked curiously, "And what have you found?"
"There have been reports and outcries in this area of Paris, within the 7th arrondissement, about 'un Amerloque' which is a rather disparaging term for an American," Sierra explained.
"What's he been doing?" Juliette knew the Eiffel Tower was in the 7tharrondissement, together with other tourist hotspots like the Orsay Museum, and the gardens at Rodin’s museum.
"Apparently offering to take photos of people using their cellphones, but a woman reported here that he also looks at the information on the phone. Then, later, he stalks them, harasses them, and apparently even tried to grab someone earlier today. A few of the women have complained to the hotel managers where they were staying, and it's on local chat groups also."
"Thank you, Sierra," Juliette said, feeling a rush of excitement. "This is exactly what we needed. Now we just have to find him."
She felt enthused, as if they finally had a real lead. The French member of the team, however, was less convinced.
"The police know nothing of this!" Lucien announced. "Are you sure it's correct?"
"Yes," Sierra confirmed, giving him a cheerful smile. "It's all here. And what's more, there's a photo of him. It was taken by one of the victims. I've zoomed in and found his face. I’m going to share it on the screen now.”
Looking appalled, Lucien turned away and began barking out questions in French to one of the other officers. "Is this true?" he was saying. "Has such a case been called in?"
Meanwhile, deciding that the evidence Sierra had obtained was more than enough without any official police reports, Juliette peered at the grainy image, her eyes widening as she took in the man's features. He was average height, with a strong build and a broad face. He was carrying a backpack that looked to be heavy and full. Perhaps it contained gold paint.
At any rate, the arrondissement of Paris where he'd been operating was close to the one where the victim had been killed. Perhaps that wider area formed part of the hunting ground he'd scoped out so far.
Lucien turned back to them, looking mutinous. "It does appear this case has just been called in," he said. "The report is brand new, so I didn't hear of it as yet."
"What matters is where we can find this guy now," Wyatt said, his voice urgent. Juliette could see he was eager to start the hunt.
And at least he'd gotten the discussion away from politics, and toward where it needed to be.
