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"Charl Dupont? Is that you? We need to ask you some questions. We're the FBI."
Immediately, his head snapped around. He gazed at her, narrow-eyed, and Juliette saw a flare of anger in his expression.
Then, he lunged. But not away from her, not trying to flee.
He lunged toward her, hands outstretched, making a lightning fast grab for her neck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucien headed along the narrow side streets, watching carefully, hoping that the IT woman from the FBI team would come through with some tracking information on Giorgio Patron, the man who was posing as a licensed musician, without actually having the papers at all.
Technology would save time, but for now, he’d use his eyes and his instincts to spot the man, who might have his phone turned off, especially if he was playing music.
It was interesting that he'd been seen, and caused his trouble, away from the main squares where most of the performers congregated. Even so, there were crowds around. People walking, standing and talking on their phones, posing for photos. He turned his head, left and right, left and right, looking to see if he could spot the suspect he needed.
Under usual circumstances, Lucien would have assumed that Giorgio was trying to make a few quick euros from unsuspecting tourists, while keeping an eye out for the police, and that was why he’d chosen an area away from the main tourist square.
But now, he was wondering if this musician had a different agenda, and that his unlicensed playing was simply a front that he used, a reason to be out in public, so that he could identify and then hunt unsuspecting women.
"It's unacceptable," he said, striding down the side street with the man's facial features in his mind. "Unacceptable!"
He couldn't help feeling as if his life had been turned upside down in the past few days. It had been a whirlwind, complicated further by the unwanted arrival of the Americans.
Initially Lucien had been filled with resentment toward them. The woman had been too smart for her own good, while being smoothly diplomatic to him, and he'd wondered how long she could keep making lucky guesses about the case. Eventually he’d admitted to himself that she really was perceptive, and that, surprisingly, he enjoyed working with someone so quick-thinking.
The man, with his insistence on all things American had really rubbed him the wrong way. What an irritating agent Wyatt was!
Although Lucien had to admit, even though it had sparked a major war between the three of them, that tackle of Wyatt’s had been something to behold. His surprised mind had taken it in, the memory photographic, the American's coordination perfect.
And then, the woman, Juliette, had surprised him yet again by showing him her fiery side. That temper! Weirdly, the fact she'd shown that she was human and could get angry had made him respect her more. She was real; she was struggling to get this solved, just like him.
He remembered how she'd looked, with her eyes flashing angrily, and it had struck a chord in his heart. For the first time, he realized that she was beautiful and strong, a genuine person, not just someone sent from a higher power to stick a spoke in his wheel.
That time when she’d mentioned that she rescued animals had touched his heart, and he’d suddenly seen her in a different light. That had shocked him. It had been an intense, and unexpected moment.
He was dragged back to reality by the sound of guitar music. Was that the musician?
Lucien looked closely at the man with his back to the wall, playing a guitar fairly badly, with wrong notes aplenty. The features, were they the same?
No, that discordant guitar player wasn't him.
He moved on, and continued his search, staying alert and watching for anything suspicious. He was determined to find the musician, and get to the bottom of this case.
He hadn’t expected to be working as a detective at this time, and in fact, he'd been ready for a promotion. Two months ago, Lucien had been offered the post of chief detective in the central Paris division. It was a very prestigious job and he'd been about to take it.
But then, disaster. His father had been attacked while walking home. Mugged, brutally beaten. The assault had caused a severe head injury and after a few days in ICU, he'd lost the battle. The swelling of the brain had been too bad. There was nothing that could be done. He'd slipped into a coma and died.
Lucien's mother, widowed, had needed the support of her only son, and so, feeling conflicted and angry and at odds with the world, he'd declined the job offer. No way could he support his mother and remain close to her, and take on the pressures of a new job.
And the question always lingered in his mind: had it been a random mugging? Or had one of the many Parisian criminals that Lucien had put away during his career, gotten out again and done this for payback?
He was sure it wasn't so, but all the same, he felt a terrible wave of guilt every time he thought about what had happened to his dad, as if he himself might have caused this.
Lucien paused and looked around, his eyes scanning the street for any sign of the musician. Nothing. He sighed and continued, his steps determined, his mission clear.
He guessed the man's phone was not trackable or else surely he would have received the call by now?
And then, he saw him.
