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Either one could be the cars sent earlier to Vidauban, Dominic reflected. But Lepoille obviously didn't know about the drama at the farmhouse. On Lepoille's first call he'd mentioned where he was, but not why: too personal, the conversation would have become maudlin. Dominic had been sitting next to Monique on the nearest hospital corridor bench to Emergency. But after the first few words, he stood up, started pacing away. With what she had on her mind now, insensitive for her to be bothered with police logistics. 'But the Puget-Valle car — won't they make it up to the junction in time?'

'No — they'll be about five or six kilometres short. You won't make it to the motorway junction by then either, but you should be able to make the N7 junction easily. That will effectively cut Duclos off from heading east on the N7 or north through Grasse. With the motorway and south already covered — we'll have him cornered!'

Impossible choice. Desert Monique and Gerome at such a moment, or let the man who had wreaked these horrors on his family escape? The thought of Duclos so close made his adrenalin surge with a mixture of anger and excitement: the prospect of personally hunting down Duclos felt somehow fitting. Right. But he couldn't… just couldn't. 'Isn't there another car you can send?' Dominic's voice was pleading, desperate.

'No, afraid not. We've already checked all the options.

Dominic was half turned away, and glanced back as he sensed Monique looking over more pointedly. Seeing the pain and anguish etched deep in her face made the decision for him. Long sigh. 'I'm sorry. I just can't do it.' Dominic briefly outlined the events at the farmhouse. 'Gerome's still in emergency — we're waiting on news any minute. I just can't leave now.'

'I'm sorry, Dominic. If I'd known, I wouldn't have asked.'

'It's okay, how could you know. Look, let me know how-'

'If you don't go — will he get away?' This from Monique, cutting in.

'I'm sorry, I-' For a second Dominic was confused, not sure who to address first. Then: 'Guy — I'll call you back in a second.' Monique's expression was taut. Fobbing her off with a lie seemed pointless: the N7 was one of Duclos' main escape route options. Dominic shrugged. 'Yes, I suppose so. He might.'

'And this is the same man responsible for Christian and now Gerome?'

'Yes.' Flat tone. One word denoting so much of her life's anguish.

Her jawline tightened. She contemplated the floor for a second before looking back at Dominic. 'Then I think you should go. I'm here for Gerome, and the doctors are doing their best. There's nothing you can do for him by staying.'

Dominic shook his head. 'No… no. I couldn't possibly leave you and Gerome at a moment like this. I wouldn't be able to face either of you squarely again, or myself for that matter. I can't go.'

Monique looked at him steadily, eyes piercing. 'And if Gerome should die — do you think it will be any easier to face me knowing that you've let the man responsible get away?'

Dominic felt the words like a knife. If she wanted to punish him for what had happened, that was it now: those words. But as he met her eyes, he could see that she was resolute, determined. Beyond the barb, she wanted him to go. Arguing looked futile. The same message he'd read before: get him, get him. Don't let him get away!

Dominic started to hit back with more protests, but Monique was insistent — practically screaming at him to go as she became frantic that vital seconds were being lost. With a last defeated shrug and an elicited promise from Monique that she call him the second there was any news on Gerome — he turned hastily away, already dialling out to Lepoille.

Monique closed her eyes, a tear rolling down one cheek. Gerome near death, and it had sounded as if she partly blamed Dominic. But she knew that if she hadn't taken that stance, he wouldn't have gone. She could live without seeing justice done — had already done so for so many years — but Dominic? Despite his protests, she could see that part of him desperately wanted to track down Duclos, exact justice. She'd seen it in his indecision on the phone, in the hunted, frantic look in his eyes when he discovered Duclos was so close, the plea in his voice: '…Isn't there another car you can send?' She knew that until he caught Duclos, the past would never be fully laid to rest.

Monique looked thoughtfully at the closed doors of the emergency room. A cold, desolate chill crept over her. Once again she would be alone praying for the life of a son. Though this time at least the choice had been hers.

The first thrill, the anticipation of the chase hit Dominic as he felt the surge of his car engine powering away from the hospital. Then it built layer by layer as he continued his conversation by mobile with Lepoille and switched on his police radio to patch in and make contact with the other two vehicles: BRN 946 east of the Le Luc motorway junction, and TLN 493 heading north from Puget-Valle. Lepoille had already confirmed the Le Luc car was in position, so Dominic asked TLN 493 its current location.

Hoarse voice through airwaves surf: 'We're just about running parallel with Pignan — we should make it to the junction in about seven minutes.'

Dominic glanced at the map he'd spread out on the passenger seat. He spoke into his mobile. 'When do you expect Duclos to reach the junction?'

'About four or five minutes.'

Then back to the radio: 'Expect him to pass you at about four or five kilometres your side of the junction — if he's heading your way. Keep your eyes sharp then.'

Dominic clicked off the radio but kept the mobile on to Lepoille. He checked his speed: 152-154kmph. Parts of the road were winding and it was difficult to go faster. 'I should reach the N7 in about five minutes.' And Duclos was eight or nine minutes away from that point, he estimated: eleven kilometres beyond the motorway junction. He should be able to head Duclos off in plenty of time. 'I'll phone you again when I reach there.'

Dominic glanced again at the map, picturing their triangular formation as dots closing in. They had him! There was no way out. Almost unreal that after all these years he was finally so close. And now there was nothing tentative, venturesome about the case — they had Betina Duclos' testimony! They would throw away the key with Duclos.

So close. He felt the earlier rush of anticipation grow stronger as the trees and hedgerows flashed by in the stark beam of his headlamps… shadows marking his progress. Tombstones for Duclos. He hit a flat stretch and edged his speed up to 160kmph.

The past weeks of activity had left him tired and jaded. But now the adrenalin rush made him alert again, he could feel it touching every nerve end as he sped on, the kilometres starting to zip by… seven… six…

Dominic flicked the radio back on. He raised the motorway car, aware that Duclos would probably reach them first. 'He should be passing you in no more than two or three minutes if he's heading straight on. If so, give immediate pursuit and we'll radio ahead. Keep the airwaves open throughout.' He left a similar message with the second car heading north, but with a four minute timing.

Less than a minute later, as the N7 junction loomed ahead, he called Lepoille and brought him up to date. '…About two minutes now on the motorway, three if he's heading south.' Dominic turned at the N7, heading toward the motorway. Closing the triangle tighter. 'And maybe four minutes for him to pass me if he comes this way.'

Dominic tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, anxious as it came up to the minute mark for Duclos to pass the motorway car, then looked towards the radio as he silently counted down… fifty seconds… forty… thirty. At ten seconds he prompted: 'Anything yet?'