The Librarian Spy(81)

The agony in her chest splintered with the pain of her grief. She had been too stubborn in not sending a note to him while he was in prison, thinking more could be said in person. It was a regret that would haunt her for the rest of her life. For the thousandth time since she’d received word of his death, she wondered at the little pinch of folded paper that Etienne promised to try to deliver to him.

“Joseph knew you loved him too,” Etienne said.

“Did he?” Elaine asked, her voice catching. “There was too much left unsaid.” Her words choked off with contrition.

“Even if he never received the note, he knew.”

While Elaine prayed he was correct, she could not stop the sliver of doubt in her mind.

“I should have written to him earlier.” The admission pulled a deep, wounded chasm within her, one of her own making. One that she had unjustly placed on Etienne’s shoulders. “I’m angry with myself. Not you. Forgive me for being so unfair to you.”

“I let Joseph down,” he said.

“No.” Elaine shook her head. “If it had been possible to save him, you would have.”

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and said nothing.

The clack of approaching shoes drew Elaine’s eyes toward the shadow of a slender woman rushing toward them. A flicker of light whisked over her face from a streetlamp, revealing Nicole, her expression stricken.

“Someone has tipped off the Bosche,” she said urgently. “They are on their way to Manon’s home now.”

The roar of a nearby engine rumbled through the air, as if confirming her words. With petrol being so rare, the only running vehicles were ones owned by the Nazis.

Elaine didn’t wait to hear more. She and Etienne raced down the street, leaving Nicole.

“This way.” Etienne shoved through a door into a traboule where the darkness of night went from delicate to consuming. He blindly navigated the passageways while Elaine remained at his back to ensure she did not lose him. They were spit out of another door and wound their way through the streets, the cobblestones damp and slick underfoot.

As they came upon Rue Lanterne, Denise strode from the opposite side of the street, from a café many Germans frequented. She was in wide-legged pants with a dark jacket, her hair bound back, her jaw locked with a hard expression. There had always been an edge to Denise, but now the glint in her eyes was nothing short of feral.

She passed by them without bothering to nod in their direction, strangers passing one another on the street and Elaine played along. All that mattered now was Sarah and Noah. And finding a way to keep Manon safe.

An explosion erupted from the building where Denise had departed, a bloom of orange and red amid a belching cloud of black smoke, the sound deafening against Elaine’s ears. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the door of Manon’s apartment.

The heat of the blast had only hinted at her skin before its brilliant light disappeared in the darkness of the hall; even the thunderous bang was muted by the thick walls. Etienne grabbed her hand and led her upstairs to where she had lived for several months.

As the noise of the bomb faded away, the roar of engines took its place. The Bosche were closing in on them. Elaine knocked on the door and tried to keep the sound from being too loud or too rapid.

Manon opened it, her eyes darting about. Surely she too had heard the explosion.

Elaine pushed inside. “The Germans,” she said as audibly as she dared. “We must go.”

Sarah stood in the doorway leading to the living area, frozen with Noah in her arms, her eyes wide like a rabbit cornered by a predator. “Was that an explosion?”

“A diversion,” Etienne confirmed. “Please, we haven’t much time—this way.” He indicated the door to the balcony with the courtesy of a ma?tre d’ at a fine Parisian restaurant.

No matter how out of place the gesture seemed, Sarah reacted, following him quickly and quietly.

Elaine tugged at Manon’s slender arm. “You must come.”

The slam of car doors came from outside, followed by the clipped sound of running feet and a woman shouting with indignation.

Denise.

Elaine gripped her friend more firmly. “We must go now.”

Manon simply regarded her with large, calm brown eyes and shook her head. “There is not enough time.”

“Manon—”

“I lost one child to these monsters.” She withdrew in a firm jerk, fire in her eyes. “I will not lose another.”

“Elaine.” Etienne spoke in a sharp whisper, his hand extended to guide her to the balcony.

“Go,” Manon said fiercely. “Get them to safety. I will distract the bastards.”

Etienne grabbed Elaine’s arm in a viselike grip and hauled her away. Abandoning Manon.

The horror of it left Elaine momentarily stunned.

“Think of Sarah and Noah,” Etienne said harshly in her ear.

It was the reminder Elaine needed for her feet to start working on their own as they raced out onto the balcony. There they were able to pass easily into the next home, another safe house, but one without furnishings, appearing more like an apartment open to let than a place anyone ever stayed. Etienne guided them all through the empty space and down the back stairs that descended to an alternate exit through the rear of the building where a quiet street met them.