Storm clouds roll in as the priest's speech comes to an end. The few of the cars that are actually at the funeral sit in an eerie silence, listening to nothing now but their relatives' dreadful sobbing and the uneasy hum of the wind. The priest dips his hood to the vehicles in front of him, signaling the end of the funeral, and then leaves his stand.
A familiar silver Laguna Coupe is parked in the front row, low on her wheels with a floppy, wide-brimmed black hat covering her eyes. Rain droplets begin to fall, and only then does she look up from the ground. Valerie stands, hurriedly pushing her husband out of the way, who retorts, "Valerie..?" She ignores him, and with tears already streaming down her face she digs into her purse, pulling out a white cloth. The small family behind her gasp as she throws it over Celine's smiling face, protecting the beautiful photograph of her best friend from the incoming rain droplets. Valerie collapses to the ground, buried under the weight of her own sorrow and guilt.
Her husband, a champagne colored 1977 Matra Rancho pulls up beside her. He nuzzles his grille into her fender with an expression full of sadness and concern painted on his face, "Valerie..it's time to say goodbye.."
"Nicolas..she is still out there somewhere.. I can feel it..," Valerie cries, choking on her own saliva. She leans into her husband's nuzzle, "And..Eliot..," her voice cracks, a knot winding itself up in her throat.
"It's been over a month, Valerie," Nicolas responds. He uses his grille to hook it under her side skirt, lifting her up off of the soggy cemetery grass.
Valerie stands lifelessly, the rain concealing her tears. She whimpers and falls into Nicolas' embrace, "C-Christophe is out there.. I saw him.. I swear I did when they brought me into the hospital those weeks ago.. H-he had a baby carriage.. Eliot.."
"Valerie, you were very hurt that night…and you lost a lot of blood..," Nicolas utters, only to be pushed away by his loving wife. He stands there, taken aback by her unexpected, forceful reaction.
"You don't believe me. None of you do. You all look at me like I am crazy," she narrows her eyes at him, whipping a wheel back and forth as she speaks. Her voice raises, "Well I was there! I was the one who was chased down by a psychopath, sliced open and forced to deliver our child into the ghastly treads of such a dangerous man! Our child, who you have obviously given up on! I cannot believe you!" she hisses through her teeth. As she turns away from him she grabs the photo of Celine, still wrapped up in the now damp white cloth.
"Valerie, I have not given up!" Nicolas cries out. He rushes after her, his eyes wide with concern, "But it's been four weeks..and the police have been all over this area. They still haven't even found that old building Christophe brought you to. What makes you think they are capable of finding our child?"
With a final glance at Celine's gravestone Valerie swiftly exits the cemetery, Nicolas close behind. She doesn't answer him right away, too angry with the words he's allowing to spew out of his mouth. He was always one who should think before he speaks but never does.
` The wind picks up, sending shards of rain straight into their faces. Valerie slows to a stop at the side of the road and leans against the rusting fence of the cemetery. It squeaks painfully under her weight, pieces of rotting metal falling to the grass below. Even though weeks have passed and Valerie's operation had been a success, she's still easily tired out, the healing process incomplete. Her jagged scar is visible across her abdomen, printed there like a bad tattoo and forever reminding her of that horrifying night.
"If the police can't find him I am not going to wait around for them any longer," Valerie says with a scowl. She whips around to face her husband again, "I am going to find Christophe, and I am going to show him my utmost fury. I will stitch this family back together." She grips Celine's photograph close, practically bending it, "He's going to regret absolutely everything he's done."
The silhouette of Saint Pont hospital is plastered against a dark grey evening sky, draped in its costume of innocence. It looks no different than it had when Christophe worked there, but on the inside everything has changed. As insane as Chris has become, the hospital itself begs for him; its gaping windows and callous stature pleading for his return. He was its greatest surgeon after all, and ever since Chris has gone missing, more lives have been lost here.
Valerie drives up to the once broken rotating doors, pushing through them with little patience, Nicolas directly behind her. The hospital is nothing but a monstrosity to her now, drowning her mind in those horrid memories: The blood, the agony, the fear. His eyes; his crazy eyes. Valerie is no psychiatrist, but she didn't need to be to know that Chris had more than one personality inside of him. All you have to do is look at those twisted eyes and you'll know. That sickening green kink that winds itself into the once acquitted blue of his iris. The constriction of his pupils when he begins to lose control. To Valerie, Chris' eyes were the prime reputation of his insanity.
She needed to know more about him.
As she drives straight to the front desk she demands to speak with anyone who worked closely with Christophe Peugeot. The name slipping from her lips orders immediate silence. Every single car in the room hushes, even the pain-stricken patients. Christophe's slayings and Valerie's story has been replaying on the news every single night since Valerie's return. If someone didn't know Christophe's name by now, they're either sheltered or do not own a television, or both.
The woman forklift behind the counter clears her throat and stands, the echo of her voice cutting through the silence, "Valerie, I politely ask that you do not speak of that name within these hospital walls."
Nicolas has since pulled to Valerie's side. He goes to apologize for his wife's behavior, but Valerie speaks over him, "Fine. I won't say his name, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to speak to someone."
The woman raises a lid at Valerie's approach and she puts her pen down. Valerie, who's usually more of a pushover, has made it quite clear she wasn't going to leave without information. She's a mother bursting at the seams with hatred for the man who violated her, tormented her and kidnapped her newborn child, and it's showing right through her heated attitude.
"Right this way," the woman says quietly. She stands and rolls away from the desk, using her forks to push open two solid white doors, which lead to a more private office.
Valerie follows, Nicolas now at her side. He sighs heavily. As much as he wanted his child back, he didn't think this was the way to do it. He believed it was a waste of time, and that if anyone were going to find Eliot it should very well be the police.
Once the doors swing themselves closed and the three of them are alone, the woman's expression shifts from a professional blank stare and into something much more sensitive and troubled. "I was his nurse. The night he killed Adolphe.. I was here before Christophe left the hospital for the last time."
Valerie's eyes widen up and she moves in closer, "What do you know about him? I need to find him. I need to find my son..," she pleads.
Nicolas reverses a bit, knowing that if he interferes Valerie would just shove him away again.
The woman continues, her voice becoming jittery, "He used to be such a wonderful man.. He had those beautiful blue eyes that you just couldn't help but admire," she sighs and continues, "He saved so many lives.. He was..brilliant at what he did.. We all wanted to be just like him, but then one day, about a year ago, he never came into work. We later learned that he had lost his wife..and he was at a different hospital where she had passed away. She died giving birth-"
"And?" Valerie asks abruptly, "Where was this hospital?"
"Ch-Chaumont hospital…about a half of an hour south from here.. It's closed down now.. Abandoned..," she answers, her voice slightly clearing up, "After he lost his wife and his baby he was a completely different man; a polar opposite, in fact. He lost our patients more often, and whenever he did he would become so nasty..and..he'd say some terrible things..a-and..he..," she tears up, "His eyes. They were terrifying. I used to look up to that man…but..after that incident with his wife I just couldn't even bare to look him in the eye anymore. Before I knew it he and his new intern vanished..and now..all this mess.." She wipes her face with a tissue, "Adolphe..he was innocent. Christophe..I cannot believe what he's turned into.."
By now Valerie is pacing the room, "Abandoned..that's gotta' be where he is..that hospital where his wife died.. That's where he took me..," she turns and shoves her grille against her husband's, "Nicolas..please..we have to go..please.."
Nicolas stares into her eyes for a while. As much doubt as he had swelled up inside him, he eventually nods, "Anything for you.." He glances above Valerie's roof, to the nurse, "Thank you," and he takes Valerie's wheel, leading her out of the office and away from the hospital. "I hope you know I am bringing my gun."