“My wife died. She committed suicide. She had been struggling with depression since I had first met her. That day, I wasn’t home. Johnny was. He saw his mother threw herself from the roof. He was out in the garden, playing. When I came back home, he was crying beside her mother’s body, in a pool of blood”.

He remains silent for a very long time. Then, he looks up at Francois.

“Mr. Turmont, please, bring Johnny here”, he murmurs.

The bald man nods rapidly, and disappears in another room. I turn my head and watch Shane. She looks shocked, and I have a feeling she’s not thinking about her own life in danger, but about Carmen’s. I can see it from the way she squeezes her hand. It’s a frantic, desperate grip.

On the contrary, Carmen looks much less tensed. She seems perfectly in control. Her dark eyes never leave Sanders. Her lips are pursed, and she blinks her eyelids slowly, like she’s reflecting about something very important. I start thinking that maybe she has an idea crossing her mind.

A massive oak door behind Sanders opens with a squeaking noise, and there they are. John James Sanders Junior on a wheelchair, his sunken eyes rolling around like flipper balls, his thin, fragile body slouched in the chair.

Behind him, there is a blond woman in a nurse uniform and I recognize her immediately. She’s the woman photographed with Shane. The one who was kissing her in that black and white shot. She smiles at us, and Shane gasps, her eyes popping out in disbelief.

“…You…”, she murmurs, her eyes shifting from Jack to the woman, “…You have been checking on us all for months, you violated us… you…”.

“Nice to see you again, Shane”, the woman says, politely, “I missed you”.

Carmen’s eyes are flaming with rage. She tightens the grip on Shane’s hand and murmurs something into her ear. Shane nods almost imperceptibly.

“Gaaaah….Gaaah…”, Johnny wheezes with a hollow smile. He presses his head against the back of his wheelchair as his eyes stop on Shane and Carmen.

“….Looohk, da-dy…. The beauhtifhul lady and the laaady with the gunny-gun….”.

He’s completely lost it. That’s for sure. His father pats his hand briefly, lightly, shushing him and turning his head back to us.