Felicite Found (22 page)

Two Years Later

Change of Heart

Soon after Pierre and Luc graduated from high school—both receiving high marks on
le bac
—they joined the police force. It surprised Pierre when Luc told him he would likely follow in the footsteps of his best friend. Somehow their police captain had let them be partners after completing their training which was unheard of. Usually they were paired with an older lieutenant. It seemed they were meant to be by each other’s sides for the rest of their lives.

They sat chatting with each other in their parked police car. Pierre asked Luc about his girlfriend,
Chéri—the girl that was reading a book in the high school lunchroom. They were getting far too serious for Luc’s taste, but he liked her. A lot. After high school, he ran into her and asked her out. They had been together since.

In the midst of the conversation, the radio crackled with a voice, asking for them to report to a crime that happened near their patrol area. Pierre started the car, turned on the siren, and sped to the address.

By the time they got there, it was too late. The teenage girl lay soaked in her blood with tattered clothing—there was only one explanation for it. Pierre’s skin tingled until his head felt like ten times its actual weight. Little black dots clouded his vision and sweat collected under his arms. He staggered away from the scene and then threw up, collapsing on the wet pavement. He went unconscious as his head hit the ground.

When he came to, there were a number of other Lieutenants in the alley. He lay on his back, being looked over by an EMT. They told him that he was all right but had to go to the hospital and get his head checked out.

Luc appeared by Pierre’s side. “Hey, you okay, Rousseaux?” he asked, edging between an EMT. “That poor girl was pretty messed up. Can’t blame you for throwing up and passing out. You want me to call your mom? She could go to the hospital and make sure you get home.”

Pierre groaned as the pain in his head hit him. Plus, he was an adult. He didn’t need his mom looking out for him anymore. “No, I’ll make it.” By now the EMT’s were helping him onto a stretcher. The ambulance gunned its engines.

“Man, get better. I have to stay here, but I’ll check on you later. Oh, and they caught the punk who killed her. He was drunk and passed out a little ways down the alley.”

“That’s good,” Pierre managed to say as Luc patted the side of the ambulance. It charged off, sirens blaring.

Anton de Rousseaux flashed into his mind. He hadn’t thought of him in a long time. Then another person popped into his mind: Félicité Moreau. He thought of her more frequently, though.
If only someone had been there for her
. He wondered where that thought had come from. Most of his musings about Félicité resulted in a dull ache, now, not sympathy.

He thought back to the sight of the poor girl lying on the ground—dead. She didn’t deserve to die that way. She would’ve had her whole life ahead of her.

I should have gotten there faster to save her and kicked the crap out of the drunken perp
.
I became a police lieutenant to save people, not to get there late
.

Again Félicité appeared in his mind—her pain and being abused for so long and then being hanged to her death. He thought of the blood running through his veins and shuddered. He wanted to tear them out until Anton de Rousseaux’s blood no longer kept him alive. He would rather be dead than live with
him
sustaining his life.

His feelings for Félicité had suddenly been altered after seeing the poor girl tonight. But
feeling responsible for what happened to Félicité pressed down heavy on his already burdened shoulders.

He arrived at the same hospital where she had been taken to a couple years before. The place only brought more guilt upon him. He was released soon after arriving, so he went straight to the police department.

He saw Luc and asked, “So, what’s going on with the case?”

“Well, the girl’s parents are here. They were just informed of their daughter’s death. They’re taking it really hard but are glad that her killer is in custody.” He pointed out the couple to Pierre. They stood by the window with grief-stricken faces. “Do you want to talk to them? You always seem to say the right thing.”

Luc introduced him to the couple. As he offered them the customary cheek kisses, Pierre prayed in his heart that there was something he could do to help them. “Hello, Monsieur and Madame Thomas, I truly apologize for your loss this evening. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“Lieutenant, have you ever lost someone you love?” Madame Thomas asked, fighting tears back.

“Madame, I lost my father. He died before I ever was able to know him. I guess that doesn’t count or compare to your loss. But if it’s all the same, I’ve missed him and wished I could have known him.” He looked down at his feet and whispered to himself, “And I’ve lost the love of my life.” Astonishment overcame him by what had escaped his lips. But his head seemed clearer than it had been for several years.

“Lieutenant, I don’t know how I can move on. Will the sun ever shine for me, for us again?” She looked at her husband, chin trembling. The man took her hand in his. “I’m angry at that villainous man for doing this to our daughter. She was only walking home from a friend’s house and was almost home for dinner. She’s such a good girl—talented at so many things and so smart. She didn’t deserve to die when she had so much to live for. Oh, Lieutenant what are we to do? She is . . . was our only child.” She fell into her husband’s arms, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, dear, what are we going to do?”

Pierre could tell that her husband had tried his hardest to be strong for his wife, but he was clearly at breaking point. Choking tears back, he responded, “My love, somehow we will make it through this. I don’t know how, but we will. I miss her . . . I miss her, too.” They both were crying now. Pierre engulfed them in his arms.

Minutes later they sniffed away their tears and then Monsieur
Thomas spoke, leaning away from Pierre but still holding his wife. “Lieutenant, thank you for letting us grieve. Sometimes all that matters is knowing that someone cares.” He and his wife backed away and sat down, still embraced in each other’s arms.

Pierre stood still, stomach twisting in knots for the couple. He prayed they would make it through this terrible ordeal. Luc’s tapping on his shoulder interrupted his heartfelt prayer.

“Hey, thanks for talking to them. It seemed to help. I could never have done what you just did for them.”

“It was the least I could do,” Pierre said, his emotions running high.

“I assume the doctor gave you the all clear,” Luc asked, changing the subject.

“As good as new.” He tapped on his head. “Let’s go give our statements.”

“Okay, but one thing.” Luc tripped as they walked. “How are you holding up lately?” Luc caught himself before he face planted on the floor. “I haven’t asked you in a while. What happened tonight made me worried.” He slipped again. “What the . . . Can I even walk today. I might be the next Lieutenant at the hospital. I can see it now: ‘The Embarrassment of the Department, Luc Broussard, Injured While on Duty—He Tripped.”

“Uh,” Pierre said, nodding down at Luc’s feet. “You may want to tie your shoe.”

“Oh,” Luc said with a sheepish grin. He bent down and tied it. “You’re avoiding my question, man.”

“I have a lot to think about. A lot to think about.”

A Promise Kept

The metro wouldn’t offer the fresh air he needed right now, so Pierre walked home. But what he truly needed right now was Félicité Moreau. How could he have been so harsh to her? She told him the truth; that had to count for something. Plus, she was trying to make her past mistakes right. He couldn’t hold that against her, right? At that moment, he knew she was more important than anything she had done in her past.

He remembered his mother’s words: “You must understand that all of us have a past, but it’s what we do with our future that is the measurement of one’s character.” He contemplated her wisdom by rubbing his chin.

Unconsciously, he made his way toward
Pont Neuf
. After some time and a lot of thought, he knew where his legs had led him—where his life
truly
had begun. Where Félicité fell into it, and the place where his own ancestor had brutally murdered her so long ago.

He continued walking until he found himself at the place where she had jumped and had been forced to an early death. He touched the stone with one hand and raked the other through his hair, practically pulling it all out.

He no longer associated Félicité with the evil things she had done to his family, now. He only thought of her as a
strong person. It had to have been extremely difficult for her to be honest with him.

Félicité, like the meaning of her name, had brought happiness into his life for a short five weeks. The only thing he could think of was her well-being and happiness. His world fell completely and utterly in focus on one thing: a beautiful girl named Félicité.

He started running, pumping his arms and legs faster than he ever had. He had to talk to Madame
Rose. Now!

His cute, surrogate grandmother appeared at her door after he hammered on it multiple times.

Breathing hard and with sweat beaded on his forehead, he said, “Madame
Rose, I have to ask you something
so
important. You
have
to tell me where Félicité is. I
need
to talk to her.” 

She shook her head and huffed out a long breath, clasping her hand over her chest. “You scared me to death, Pierre.”

“I have to talk to Félicité right now!”

As if finally registering his demand, Madame Rose sighed, saying with finality, “No.”

“
Why?
” He didn’t understand why after all this time Madame
Rose wouldn’t tell him where to find the girl he loved.

“I would tell you, but I must honor Félicité’s request never to tell you her whereabouts. However, I will call her right now and see if she would like to talk to you,” Madame
Rose said with hope beaming in her eyes.

She stood in front of the phone. Obviously, she didn’t want Pierre to see the number as she turned the dial. He hoped he would’ve been able to memorize the number, so he could call Félicité later. Madame Rose knew him too well to be fooled.

“Hello, this is Madame
Rose.” Pause. “It was good to see you last night.” Pause. “You played very well, and you thought you wouldn’t win at all. You’re a natural. But Félicité . . .”

Pierre leaned forward wanting to snatch the phone out of her hand. He resisted the powerful urge pumping hard in his arms by sitting on his hands.

“I have Pierre here, and he wants to talk to you.” A long pause. “All right.” She shrugged. “I’ll tell him.” Pause. “I love you, too. Bye.”

Madame
Rose sat and crossed her skinny legs. “Félicité doesn’t think it’s a good idea to talk to you. I’m sorry, Pierre.” She folded her arms across her chest, signifying she wouldn’t tell him anything more.

“I understand.” Pierre wilted like a flower into the couch and stared at the ceiling. He was almost certain he would have seen Félicité today. His heart swelled with the pain of knowing he wouldn’t be with her today and touch her hair or skin. Or, he may never see her again. He left the comforts of Madame
Roses’ flat with his head hanging low. He went home to his own flat that he had moved into a year ago and wondered how he was going to live without Félicité.

He would do everything he could possibly do to find her. For weeks on end, when he wasn’t working, he scoured the streets of Paris showing everyone her photo, but with no success. He didn’t find a single person who had seen her. He even thought about following Madame Rose’s every move until he found Félicité. The little woman would never trust him again, so he resisted that sneaky method.

With summertime on its way and the weather warming up, he found himself walking up and down
Pont Neuf
for hours and hours after work, eagerly scanning the bridge in hopes he would see her there.

He never did.

But Félicité saw him.