I'm waiting for you

6.

Knocks on her door wake her up with a start. She glances at her cell phone: three o'clock. She quickly puts on her bathrobe, then retrieves the taser from her jacket pocket. Her attack of the day before and the mysterious packages had put her nerves on edge. She checks that the chain on her door is securely in place before opening the door.

"Who are you?

- Good morning, madam. Detective Stazic. We have a few questions for you.

- Do you have a plate, a document, anything?"

No sooner had she asked her question than a police card came through the door. She examined it carefully, then asked him to remove his hand so she could open the door. The man facing her is in his late forties, with greying hair at the temples and a square, purposeful jaw. Yet he is not intimidating. Perhaps because of his slightly stooped posture. She sees him glance at his swollen face, the taser in his hand and the flowers on his doorstep, then raise an eyebrow. She shrugs.

"A long story.

- A story that I'm sure will interest me more than you realize. May I come in?

- Yes, if you want to."

She steps aside to let him pass, then closes the door. She is about to put the taser back in her jacket, but changes her mind, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before joining him. You can never be too careful. She awkwardly offers him a seat on the only chair in her quarters, then settles herself at the foot of her still unfolded sofa bed.

"What can I do for you, Inspector? As you can see, I need to rest.

- Indeed, I was at your workplace this morning and was told of your misadventure.

- And why are you interested in my case?

- Do you recognise this man?

He then hands her a photo. Although the subject of the photo is smiling, Sarah feels nausea coming over her. It's him. She swallows her saliva with difficulty, tries to control her slightly trembling voice.

"Yes, that's the bastard who attacked me yesterday...

- Don't worry, he won't come after you again. Or anyone else, for that matter.

- Is he...

- He's dead, yes. Or rather, he was killed. I won't hide from you that it wasn't pretty. Whoever did it was either enraged or particularly twisted. The victim was identified by your bouncer. What was his name again? The one with the gold ring in his ear?

- Uh, Tommy.

- Oh, yeah, Tommy. That's a funny name for a guy like that. Anyway, he told us what happened last night. Now I'd like to hear your side of the story.

- Tommy's a pro, he wouldn't do something like that to one of our clients. A broken nose maybe, but... but doing what you describe is impossible. As for me, you've looked at me, I barely managed to get out of the way yesterday while he was manhandling me.

- Yes, it's unlikely, indeed, and for your colleague, don't worry, he has an airtight alibi. He left work shortly after you. His wife was in labour. He was in the maternity ward all night.

- So I don't see how I can help you.

- Do you live alone? No family, no boyfriend to make him pay for what he did to you yesterday? You're pretty banged up after all. I'm sure that didn't sit well with the people around you.

- No, I don't have anyone. No boyfriend and I haven't been in touch with my family for several years.

- And yet the bouquet on your doorstep...

- Oh, that! Someone has been sending me flowers with messages for several weeks now. It started on my birthday. I also have the impression of being watched, followed.

- And yet you didn't report it to the police.

- What for? I have no idea who it is! You can't do anything.

- Tell me everything and show me those cards if you still have them. Maybe your mysterious admirer wanted to play the white knight.

For the next half hour, Sarah describes in detail everything that has happened in the last few weeks. The inspector listens attentively and collects the famous cards signed "M" that the young woman has kept. Before ending the interview, he promises to keep her informed if they have any news, and then asks her to be careful. As she walks him to the door, he turns to her.

"Keep the small object in your pocket, I'll pretend I didn't see it. Here is my card. Call me if you have any problems. I don't want you to be my next investigation."

She thanks him, then opens the door; on the landing, a carefully wrapped package with a card signed "M". Without any message this time. As she reaches for it, the inspector stops her. He puts on his gloves and carefully opens the package. She looks over her shoulder. Inside is a photo of her attacker's corpse and a smaller box. The inspector opens it and reveals a mass of red flesh. She doesn't immediately understand. She bends over slightly, disgusted, but mostly confused. Then, with horror, she finally understands what the box contains: a heart. This is too much for her. She rushes to the bathroom, her empty stomach twitching painfully as she bends over the toilet. Tears begin to stream down her face. She vaguely hears the inspector calling his colleagues before joining her in the doorway. She falls back on her side, gasping for breath, as he gives her a worried look.

"I think we have our suspect."