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Confused, Rapp started reaching subtly for his own weapon but then stopped when he recognized the problem. Carter had become fond of the woman and child he’d been charged with protecting.
“That’s not why I’m here, Ben.”
The former soldier let out an audible breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rapp. No one called ahead to tell us you were coming.”
“Is she inside?”
“Yes, sir. With her daughter.”
Rapp went up the gravel walkway, stepping over a sandy boogie board and knocking on the door.
The woman who opened it was as beautiful as he remembered. At thirty-six, her round face was still smooth and dominated by bright, almond-shaped eyes. Her dark hair was a little longer now, and the smile was something he’d never seen. It quickly faded into the deep sadness he recalled from last time. When he’d had a gun pressed to the side of her head.
“Are you here to kill me?” Claudia Gould said in accented English.
His reputation was well deserved, but sometimes he wished it didn’t follow him so closely.
“No.”
“You’re here to tell me som
ething about Louis.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes closed for a moment and he could see that she was concentrating on not crying. When they opened again, she stepped aside to let him enter.
“Can I get you something?” she said, speaking on autopilot.
“No, thank you.”
She was wearing a two-piece swimsuit with a sheer sarong tied around her hips. Rapp didn’t allow his eyes to linger.
“Tell me,” she said.
The last time he’d visited her home, he’d spared her husband’s life. It had been obvious even then that it was a serious tactical error, but he didn’t regret it. It happened at a time in his life when he’d needed to regain some of his humanity.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Rapp nodded.
Claudia switched to her native French. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
Her eyes turned misty, but still there were no tears. Maybe she understood that she was better off. Or maybe she was just tired of crying over the man.
“After what happened to your wife,” she said. “After you spared us, I thought it was enough to make him see clearly. I was stupid to believe that he’d quit. I let myself be blinded.”
“It’s not your fault, Claudia. He had everything. It just wasn’t enough.”
“Was it . . .” Her voice faltered. “Was it quick?”
“He never knew what hit him,” Rapp lied. There was no reason to make her suffer any more than she already had.
“Bonjour!”
Rapp turned and managed a smile at the sight of a girl skidding to a stop on bare feet. She was seven now, with disheveled sun-bleached hair and a swimsuit similar to her mother’s. The sunscreen on her face hadn’t been completely rubbed in, leaving a white streak across her nose that smelled like coconuts.
