“Just great,” Malgreave fumed, slamming down the phone. “How many abandoned barns do you think are in that depressed part of the country?”
“We’ll find it, sir,” Vidal said.
“I’m glad you have confidence, Vidal,” Malgreave said wearily. “I hope it’s justified.”
“We’re within ten miles of Jassy, sir. We know they were driving a beige Peugeot, and there certainly isn’t much traffic on the road. The local gendarmes know we’re coming—they’ll know where to look first,” Josef said earnestly.
Malgreave turned and stared into the back seat. “For all our sakes, I hope so, Josef.” And turning back, he lit another cigarette.
There was no sound, no noise at all in the huge old barn. Just the distant rushing of the stream, the wind in the trees overhead, the eerie echo of the huge stone building. Yet with sudden, horrifying certainty Claire knew they weren’t alone.
She backed up, slowly, lifting her gaze overhead to the rickety catwalks lacing the stone walls. No sign of anyone, but she knew he was up there, waiting. She reached behind her, catching Nicole’s limp hand in hers.
“Nicole,” she whispered, her voice a breath of sound. “I know you don’t want to listen, don’t want to wake up, but you have to. You have to help me, or I won’t be able to stop him. I want you to run and hide. I want you to go back to the car, get in, and lock all the doors. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, don’t open those doors. He can’t get you in there, he can’t open locked doors. He’s only human. You’ll be safe in the car, Nicole. Please, baby, run.”
Nicole didn’t move. Her hand remained loose in Claire’s desperate grip, and her eyes were blank. Claire swallowed the desperation that was beating against her throat. “All right,” she said softly. “You don’t want to leave. I’ll still keep you safe. I won’t let him hurt you, Nicole. I swear I won’t.”
There was the slightest answering twitch in the cold, clammy hand, and Claire gripped it with renewed hope. “If you won’t go to the car, I want you to go hide in the corner. Behind the haystacks, in the shadows. He won’t be able to see you unless he’s looking, and he’s more interested in me right now. Can you do that for me, sweetie?”
Still no answer. With a silent, desperate prayer, Claire dropped Nicole’s hand. Slowly, with zombielike precision, Nicole began to edge backward into the shadows, her eyes still blank.
Claire closed her eyes in relief as she listened to the shuffling sounds of Nicole seeking shelter. And then, lifting her head, she threw her shoulders back and stepped into the center of the huge old barn, staring up into the shadowy darkness.
“Marc?” she called, her voice firm and loud. “I’m here.” And she started for the first flight of stairs.
“This is the fourth goddamn barn we’ve tried in the last hour,” Josef fumed. “Can’t your men do any better?”
“This is a poor section of France, Inspector Summer,” the local prefect said. “We have more than our share of barns standing empty.”
“How many more?” Malgreave interrupted.
The local shrugged. “Perhaps a half dozen, perhaps less. There’s one not far from here, though I doubt it’s what you’re looking for. It hasn’t been used for much during the last few years—too remote. Americans could never find it.”
“These Americans are particularly inventive,” Vidal said.
“They must be, to have eluded the illustrious Paris police for so long,” the man sneered.
“Damn you …” Josef began, but Malgreave interrupted.
“We’ll check this next one,” he announced, “and then we’ll split up. At this rate it will take all night, and I don’t know if Nicole Bonnard or Claire MacIntyre have all night.”
The petty bickering abruptly ceased. “Maybe this time we’ll be lucky,” Vidal said diplomatically. Josef looked at him and snarled.
Claire had never liked heights. She’d grown dizzy at the Grand Canyon, she’d never attempted the Eiffel Tower, and hadn’t even been too happy with the outside escalators at one of the museums Marc had taken her to. She’d had a moment of suspecting he’d subjected her to it on purpose, knowing her fear, and then she’d dismissed the idea, thinking she was being absurdly paranoid. In retrospect it was clear that was exactly what he’d done.
The wooden walkways were set into the old stone walls with thick, splintery chunks of wood. Here and there the braces had rotted through, and the narrow balcony swung a bit over the stone floor. She refused to look down once she passed the first flight. Somewhere down there was Tom’s body. Somewhere down there was Nicole, hiding, waiting, unable to protect herself.
Somewhere above her was Marc, moving silently along the walkways. She could hear the unmistakable creak of aging wood. Even someone as graceful as Marc couldn’t overcome the hazards of ancient, rotting wood, and his noiseless tread could bring forth occasional, telltale sounds.
From the moment she’d looked over her head and known Marc was up there, Claire had had no choice. There was only one way down, and she had to cut off that exit. He would have to go through her to get to Nicole, and she had no intention of letting him do so. She had no weapon, other than her hands and a fury so deep and powerful it frightened her, but she had no hesitation. She would stop Marc, no matter what the cost.
“I know you’re up there, Marc,” she said again, holding on to the railing and pulling herself upward. “You’re not as good as you think you are. I can hear you. I can see your shadow on the walls, I can hear you moving. You’re moving away from me. Why? Do I frighten you, Marc? Have you finally found someone who won’t cower before you, who won’t just sit there and let you kill them?” she taunted. “It’s no wonder you kill old women. They’re the only ones who are too weak to fight back. You’re a bully, Marc. A childish, murdering bully.”
Another creak, directly overhead, and she jerked her head up. She could see his slippered feet, the flash of white gloves and something else, something shiny and metallic and very deadly, before he disappeared into the shadows once more, silent as the grave.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” she continued, climbing higher, splinters in her hand from the railing. “Did you think I didn’t see through your little games, your twisted idea of lovemaking? I knew. I knew a long time ago. I just hadn’t decided what to do, especially about Nicole. I knew you were crazy, I just didn’t know how crazy you were.”
A sudden, hideous, high-pitched shriek tore the air above her head, and she nearly lost her grip on the railing. Something dove at her head, followed by another, and she ducked, stilling her own terrified scream, wondering what Marc was throwing at her.