Semua Bab The Art of Jessica Jane: Bab 131 - Bab 140

The hospital traced the call.Or at least attempted to.By the following morning, Detective Moreau had the answer.The call had been made from a public telephone on the opposite side of Paris.No cameras.No witnesses.No useful leads.Whoever had placed it knew exactly what they were doing.The news did little to improve anyone's mood.Jessica spent the next two days moving between the hospital and Daisy's apartment.The arrangement was temporary.At least officially.In reality, it felt like exile.Every evening she found herself thinking about her own home.Her own bed.Her own routines.The ordinary details that suddenly felt precious.Philippe had stolen those too.Not physically.Psychologically.And she hated him for it.Henri's recovery continued.Slowly.Steadily.The doctors seemed increasingly optimistic.He was sitting up for longer periods.Walking short distances.Complaining about hospital food with renewed enthusiasm.All encouraging signs.Very encouraging signs.Yet

Detective Moreau arrived at the hospital shortly after nine the following morning.The urgency of his visit immediately caught Henri's attention.The detective wasn't carrying coffee.Wasn't carrying paperwork.Wasn't carrying the relaxed expression of somebody providing a routine update.He looked as though he hadn't slept.Which, Jessica suspected, was probably true.The moment the door closed behind him, Henri spoke."You found something."It wasn't a question.Moreau nodded.Slowly.Grimly.Then placed a file on the bedside table."We've been reviewing every complaint connected to Philippe Marchand."The detective opened the folder.Several photographs were clipped together.Statements.Reports.Interview notes.Years of history compressed into paper."And?"Jessica asked.The detective looked between them.Then exhaled."Henri was right."The room fell silent.Because that wasn't something police officers said lightly.Not when investigations were ongoing.Not when evidence matte

Three days passed without another message.No photographs.No anonymous calls.No notes.Nothing.The silence should have been reassuring.Instead it felt unnatural.Like a predator disappearing into tall grass.Out of sight did not mean gone.It simply meant waiting.Henri's condition continued to improve.The doctors were pleased with his progress.His strength was returning.His appetite had improved.Discussions about rehabilitation had begun.For the first time since the attack, discharge was mentioned.Cautiously.Carefully.But mentioned.The news lifted everyone's spirits.Including Henri's.Though he immediately began complaining about hospital restrictions.Which, according to Daisy, was the healthiest sign of recovery they had seen so far."He's arguing with the physiotherapist."Daisy looked delighted.Jessica laughed."About what?""Everything."The answer sounded entirely believable.For a brief period, life almost felt normal again.Almost.Then the journalist arrived.

The news spread quickly.Faster than Jessica expected.By the following morning, detectives were preparing warrants, reviewing statements, and coordinating with prosecutors. For the first time since Philippe Marchand had entered their lives, the momentum had shifted.The hunters had become the hunted.Or so it seemed.Henri listened quietly as Detective Moreau explained the next steps.The old man appeared pleased.Relieved, even.Yet something about him remained cautious.Jessica noticed it immediately.Of course she did."What?"Henri looked up."What what?""That face."The old man sighed.Apparently he was becoming predictable."I've spent enough years dealing with difficult people to know one thing."His gaze drifted towards the window.Towards the city beyond."The most dangerous moment comes when they realise they're losing."The words settled heavily between them.Because everyone in the room understood.Philippe had spent years escaping consequences.Years controlling narrati

The following morning arrived with an almost unsettling sense of normality.Sunlight poured through the gallery windows as artists arrived carrying portfolios and coffee cups. Volunteers prepared materials for the Oak Project while visitors drifted through the exhibition spaces. Everything appeared exactly as it should, which somehow made Jessica more nervous. Over the previous months she had learned an uncomfortable truth. Disaster rarely announced itself properly. Sometimes it arrived on perfectly ordinary days.Henri spent the morning pretending he had fully recovered while everyone else spent the morning pretending to believe him. It was an arrangement that satisfied nobody, least of all his doctor."You should be resting," Jessica said for what felt like the fourth time before lunch.Henri ignored her for what felt like the fourth time before lunch.By early afternoon, the gallery café was crowded. The Oak Project had become so successful that several former participants were now