The Cathedral Thief

For the rest of summer, we had Stéphane Vernoux on our back. His shadow hung over us, clinging to our every footstep. Damien said that it was nothing, that I was making too much of a fuss over something that wasn’t worth fussing about. But it seemed that no matter where we went, no matter what part of Paris we visited, Stéphane Vernoux would always appear, at some point, and that would always ruin the moment for me. He was worrying me. Even worse than that. Stéphane Vernoux scared me. There was something about him, about his physical appearance, perhaps – his tall, scarecrow-like figure and his dangerous, stormy eyes – or about the fact that he kept finding us, no matter where we were.

I didn’t think that I could talk about it to anyone. Not to Chat, because she was too young, and certainly not to my mother. If she had learned about that strange police inspector that was following us, she would have forbidden me to see Damien again, since it seemed that Stéphane Vernoux was after him, for some reason that I ignored. And I didn’t want that to happen. There was no way I was going to tell mother about what was going on if there was even a small chance that I would not be allowed to roam the city in Damien’s company anymore.

What Vernoux’s interest in Damien was, I didn’t understand, at first. Damien said he didn’t know, and I believed him. Most of the time, Vernoux simply followed us – or followed Damien, since it seemed that it was Damien that he was interested in. He didn’t say a word after that day when he had come to warn Damien that he was watching.

I was beginning to think that Damien was right, and that there was nothing to worry about. Stéphane Vernoux had, after all, never shown a particular interest in me. Sometimes, I doubted that he had noticed my presence at all. It was Damien he was after, and since Damien said that there was nothing to worry about, then he had to be right, right?

That was what I was thinking, until one day Vernoux came to talk directly to me.

I was walking home. It was still very early in the morning, and the sky was grey and cloudy. Chat was still asleep in the apartment, and I had accompanied my mother to her work. It was just another summer morning like any other.

Stéphane Vernoux was waiting in the street, under a porch. I hadn’t seen him, but he had obviously seen me – he had obviously been waiting for me – and he stopped me when I passed in front of him.

“Sophie Garnier?” he called, and I nodded.

‘How did he know my name?’ I wondered. ‘And what did he want with me?’

“I have questions,” he said.

“I, uh,” I mumbled.

“Questions regarding the whereabouts of Damien Sorel.”

I stared at him with a blank look. I didn’t understand what he was after, when the truth was plain and simple. He was after Damien, and there was nothing that would stop him, as I would, at some point discover.

“I intend to prove that he’s behind all this,” Vernoux continued.

“All what?” I asked, but he did not seem to care.

“You’re going to tell me where he’s going and what he’s doing.” He said that as if it was obvious that I was going to say yes.

“I, uh, no,” I protested, vaguely aware that he was stepping over a line there. This wasn’t normal police behavior, and Stéphane Vernoux was no normal police inspector. He was a little too obsessive about all this.

“How…” he seemed puzzled, my reaction leaving him speechless for a moment. “You have to. This is the law we’re talking about.”

I shook my head, a little bit reassured that at least he hadn’t reacted violently. “I don’t think so. I don’t think the law allows you to force honest citizens to do anything.”

His face turned red. “This is not over, little lady,” Vernoux threatened, the coldness of his voice causing my insides to freeze, as I knew I had just made myself an enemy there. “Your friend is hiding something and I’m going to prove it.”