Page 60 of The Librarian Spy

She startled at the voice beside her.

The tip of Etienne’s nose was pink, his eyes bloodshot. “I need to speak with you.”

A low rattle of fear vibrated through her.

Rather than share his news there, he led her to the back door where the prior evening, Sarah and Noah had slipped inside the warehouse. Elaine’s knees went so soft, she worried she might slide to the floor before making it out onto the terrace.

Outside was a beautiful October day without a hint of a breeze to disrupt the crisp air as the sun streamed down through puffy white clouds. It was the kind of weather Elaine would have noticed and appreciated on any other day. Now, all she cared about was what Etienne had to say and what that meant for Joseph.

“Elaine.” Etienne swept his battered old fedora from his head and clutched the brim with a white-knuckled grip.

“Oui?” How the word made it past her lips she’d never know.

“It’s Joseph.” Etienne’s brows drew together with the intensity of one in deep concentration. As though he couldn’t quite figure out what to say.

Elaine nodded for him to continue, not trusting her own voice.

He let out a shaky exhale. “I am so sorry to give you this news...”

Her stomach plummeted to the ground. She shook her head and backed away, not wanting to hear the rest. If she didn’t hear, she couldn’t know. And if she didn’t know, it wouldn’t be real. There might still be a chance that Joseph lived. There might still be hope.

Etienne reached for her. He stank of stale cigarettes and desperation and regret. “Joseph is dead.”

A blast of bitter wind swept through the terrace in that moment, upsetting the amber-colored leaves of the plane tree so they tumbled and scraped against one another.

Elaine clenched her hand into a fist and looked up at the long branches stretching into the sky overhead. The lush green foliage had faded to an autumnal gold. Another season passed with more to come, on and on in its endless cycle.

But Joseph would have no more seasons. He wouldn’t witness the splendor of the world shifting into the myriad colors of the year, or feel its temperature rise and dip.

Just like he wouldn’t be there to put his arm around her in a crowd of people to keep her from being jostled or prepare her coffee while she lazed just five minutes longer in bed.

There were so many times his stare went distant in the comfortable quiet moments between them. She swore his mind was made up of a complex series of cogs and gears that clicked through problems with a mechanical precision. Never again would she witness that familiar, scholarly gaze and wonder what world-changing dilemma he was internally solving.

He was a beacon of knowledge and in an instant, all the brilliance and intelligence was snuffed out like a flame, leaving not even a curl of smoke in its wake.

All that remained was a broken heart.

Hers.

“Elaine,” Etienne said in a hoarse voice. “I’m so sorry.”

In looking at him, her rage found its target. Grief carved deeply at Etienne’s haggard face, his shoulders sloped with defeat, a soldier who’d lost his comrade.

But in that moment, when the pain of her own loss blistered her insides and left breathing difficult to drag through her aching chest, she could not summon sympathy for him. Not when she had trusted him to free Joseph from Montluc so long ago.

“Was my message delivered to him?” Anger edged her words like a weapon.

His expression was one of helplessness that tugged somewhere deep in the raw ache of her soul. “I have no way of knowing if he received your note. I can tell you that I called in every favor I had to make it happen.”

Words had power.

She learned that from her fateful last fight with Joseph, painfully realizing that words spoken could never be taken back—words that no longer would be made right with an apology. The mistake was one she would not repeat even as the invective rose in her throat like bile.

He had failed Joseph. While Joseph was beaten by Werner, Etienne walked free. He left his best friend to die.

She almost choked as she swallowed down such bitterness. However, her refusal to lay such heavy accusations at his feet did not mean she would offer him forgiveness.

Instead, she put her back to Etienne and returned to the warehouse, her body numb and her heart on fire. Somehow, she managed to stay her tears. Deep down she was fully aware that when they did come, they would be like a dam breaking, flowing out in an uncontrollable wave that would be impossible to hold back.