Joe coughed slightly, clearing his throat.
He looked up at Jill. Sitting in his lap, she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to begin.
'Ok, so, Emmanuel was ringing with an update on the criminal investigation into Baptiste. It's spiraled in all sorts of directions in the past number of weeks', he began, settling into the chair.
'It seems that once the police began to interview the women affected, those ladies led them to other women, as we suspected, and it just went on and on. The police are combing through mountains of information but the more they look the more they're finding', he explained. He sighed before continuing.
'Emmanuel assured me the investigation is ongoing but, well, basically, they're searching through Baptiste's whole life, including his financial and online presence, which, by the way, I gather is pretty sickening in its own right. Um there's lots of rough stuff. It's tough to watch', he muttered partly under his breath.
She breathed out.
Although what Joe was telling her was hard to hear she was glad in a way, too. She and Joe had begun to wonder if the investigation was being swept under the rug but, now it seemed, the opposite was true and she felt a little guilty for doubting.
She pulled her mind forward and thought about what Joe had just said, about women leading to other women being discovered. They were all such brave souls, no longer prepared to hide in the darkness.
She's not surprised there are so many more women, not really. But she is amazed all the same at how, when one person speaks out so much can be exposed. She imagines it like a flimsy, tawdry layer peeled back at one corner and the meerest tug can reveal more, then another tug brings more light in and soon a bed of lies and deceit and fear is exposed.
She feels her husband's hand move gently against her jeans. Her eyes meet his. He is her safe place. Her peace, her calm. She zones in on the places where Joe's hands hold her steady, where their bodies touch. They are her focal points, just as he had intended.
She runs her fingers gently down his face. 'Go on', she urges him.
He closes his eyes for a moment, probably to steady himself, she realizes. He abhors this kind of abuse of power. It simply goes against every strand of humanity that fills his soul. She sets her palm against his chest. 'We can do this. Together', she tells him and he looks into her eyes and nods grimly, clears his throat again and then settles in to continue his tale.
'Look, there's something important for you to know at the outset', he tells her, his voice slow, hesitant.
She feels her body tense a little at his words.
He continues quickly, like he's afraid that if he doesn't hurry he won't do it at all.
'It seems that, way before the assault, Baptiste was already under police observation. Eamnnuel didn't know.
British intelligence, MI6, approached a high level detective in the fraud squad of the French police and informed him that, as part of another case, they were looking into some financial payments that had passed through banks in London. Baptiste's name had come up and MI6 wanted to investigate further but, because of his position within the government they were keen to get the agreement of the French authorities', he explained.
'Initially it was just investigative. The two guys, the detective and Mr. MI6 worked out parameters between them and they began their investigations. I think they suspected he may have been paid for information or under some sort of undue influence to provide confidential documents, that kinda thing', he explained, running his hand gently along her thigh.
