Paint the town blue

Chapter XXVII

Alex's POV

The search for my partner and the escaped prisoner Verstappen is still not moving forward. We know absolutely nothing: neither what car he was driving, nor in what direction, nor where he is, or rather they are now. Yes, we have long decided that it was Verstappen who kidnapped Charles, so we aren't even considering the possibility of another person committing this.

I have already started interviewing those with whom Charles has been in contact most often lately, because even the slightest changes in behavior are always more visible from the outside. I interviewed his neighbor, Yuki Tsunoda, the day after the case was opened. Then it was his colleagues' turn: Logan, Esteban and Liam. Unfortunately, I didn't get any answers from the first two, but Liam said that he noticed some oddities in Leclerc's behavior, but that was before his visit to Verstappen, so his words didn't do much good.

I know for sure that Charles has been in good contact with our medical examiner Esteban Ocon lately. He was the one who often helped my partner cope with anxiety attacks and insomnia, until Liam persuaded him to start going to a professional. Esteban also supported this proposal and, apparently, under the pressure of these two, Leclerc gave up, as he began to visit a psychotherapist.

Even though I've already talked to Esteban, I decided to ask him again anyway - what if he remembers something? So when the working day was just at the beginning, I left my things in my office and decided to visit the medical examiner.

Ever since the station became aware of Verstappen's escape, all the officers were on edge, and when the news of Charles's abduction appeared, everyone began to look like zombie squads, because Frederic paid special attention to this and demanded detailed reports even for calls for parking tickets. Of course, this was already an extreme, but no one will argue with the boss, especially now and given his condition. Leclerc was like a son to him, and the whole precinct knows about it, so it's not even surprising that Frederic took the investigation under his personal control. However, I myself am already tired of finishing every working day with a report to Vasseur, because there has been no progress in the case.

When I got to Ocon's office, I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Thinking that he might be busy in the laboratory or the autopsy room, I just walked into the office and heard Esteban, standing at a locker in a remote corner of the office, arguing with someone on the phone. Although no, he didn't swear, he rather just spoke in raised tones and in a very dissatisfied voice. That's how parents usually talk to children who are in a lot of trouble.

I cleared my throat, and the medical examiner reacted with lightning speed - he immediately dropped the call and turned to me, looking at me with a surprised look.

"Albon? Something happened?"

"Uh, no. Am I interrupting?"

"Oh... no, no. It's just that my relatives suddenly decided that since I'm working with corpses, then I'm exactly the same doctor as their family therapist."

I looked at the Frenchman a little uncomprehendingly, because the comparison was, to put it mildly, so-so. Esteban sighed and explained that his relatives believed that since he had knowledge of medicine, he almost had the right to treat them.

"I've told them a hundred times that having a medical degree doesn't make me a doctor. Well, more precisely, it makes me a doctor, but not a therapist!"

"Oh, I know how that feels. I had the same conversations when something broke at home, and they asked me to fix it, because "you're a programmer."

"That's right. It pisses me off."

Usually Esteban is difficult to get emotional, but now I saw how difficult it was for him to hide some irritation after the call. I said I could come back later, but he just waved his hand and asked about the reason for my visit. "Charles, what other reason could there be?" I said, to which Esteban chuckled softly and mumbled something in French under his breath.