CHAPTER 10 — I Reported My Own Sister?

“A request for Samira Haddad to appear for questioning has arrived.”

Adèle's voice was grave.

“On what grounds?”

“Someone submitted information about the warehouse fire. This isn't an arrest order. We should examine the records first.”

Leila looked toward her sister. Samira was opening her work schedule on her phone.

“I was at the distribution center all that day,” Samira said. “They have entry records.”

“Can you get them?”

“They're on the company server. My account's blocked.”

“Then I'll ask one of your colleagues.”

Samira shook her head.

“Leila. Let me speak for myself about my case. Just stay with me.”

Leila clasped her hand and let go. Instead of making the call herself, she took Adèle's card from her bag. Samira dialed the number.

At the same time, Gabriel was studying a new statement at the police station. Reporting party: Leila Haddad. Person reported: Samira Haddad. It alleged that Samira had transported dangerous materials the day before the fire.

He checked how it had entered the case file. A collection of reports gathered by a private contractor had been included among records from other investigations. No one had confirmed the statement directly with its supposed author.

“You summoned her on this basis?”

His superior set down a coffee cup.

“We're calling her because there are questions to answer. Don't tell me you've started taking that woman's side.”

“We need to establish whether the informant's signature is genuine.”

“Moreau, I know you're sensitive about arresting an arson suspect and then having to release her.”

“That's why I'm checking more carefully.”

“If you want to put a problem with the file on record, do it. But you'll carry the responsibility.”

Gabriel said little more. He submitted a written observation under his own name: verification of the reporting party had been omitted.

Arrangements were made for Leila to examine the statement and confirm whether she'd written it, with Adèle present. Leila stopped outside the police station.

“Here to handcuff me again?”

“No. We're here to establish whether you wrote this statement.”

“I didn't write anything.”

“That's why I need to ask you directly.”

Adèle placed the documents she was authorized to inspect in front of her. Leila's name appeared in the reporting party field. Beneath it was a crooked signature.

Leila pulled the delivery receipt from her bag—the one claiming she'd collected eighty missing boxes.

“Look at this.”

Gabriel laid the two documents side by side.

“The handwriting appears similar.”

“Neither signature is mine.”

“They'll need forensic handwriting examination. We can't reach a conclusion before that.”

Leila pressed a finger against the papers.

“You didn't believe me the first time you arrested me.”

“This time we're verifying authorship before proceeding.”

“Then do you believe me?”

Gabriel watched her for a long moment.

“Saying I believe you won't mean anything in the record. What I can do is put the facts I've verified—and the judgments I got wrong—under my own name.”

“I don't want a policeman who feels sorry for me.”

“I understand.”

“Then put your own mistakes in writing too.”

“I've already requested a correction to the circumstances of your first arrest.”

Leila looked up. Gabriel indicated the memorandum attached to the verification documents. It recorded that the source of the original video was unknown and the reporting party hadn't been checked. His signature was at the bottom.

“What if that causes trouble for you?”

“That's mine to deal with. Failing to verify things in the first place was my responsibility too.”

It wasn't an apology. Still, for the first time Leila considered what putting his name on that report might cost him.

His signature was clear. He knew that writing his name meant accepting consequences. Yet there were no handcuff marks on his wrists. Hers still bore them.

Outside, voices chanted in the street. Accusations drifted through the city, making no distinction between those who'd broken windows and those who'd suffered for it. A false document in Leila's name was now shaking her sister's life as well. More urgently than trust, they needed a chance to prove what they had not done.

Adèle's phone rang in the corridor. It was Samira.

“Leila, there's a police car outside the relief center.”

Leila's hand went rigid.

“What?”

“They're looking for me. Two officers called my name.”

Adèle took the phone to establish what was happening. Gabriel hurried to his office to check the operations contact list.

He returned shortly afterward, pale.

“Only a formal request to appear has been issued for Samira. I'm checking what authority the team at the scene is acting under.”

“Stop them. Now.”

“I'll establish their authority and the grounds for the visit. There must be no arrest without lawful grounds.”

Leila reconnected the call with her sister.

A knock sounded through the phone.

“Samira, don't deal with them alone. Adèle's coming to you.”

“Leila.” Her sister's voice trembled.

“They showed me a document.”

“What document?”

“It says who reported me.”

Leila saw the two papers on the desk: the signature that had made her an arson suspect, and the one that had accused her sister.

“My name?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Yes,” Samira whispered. “It's your name.”