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ONE
CAROLINE
Caroline Knight was being followed.
She was sure of it. The tall and burly man, dressed in all black with half his face covered by a large pair of sunglasses, had been at the museum.
Then he had been at the coffee shop. When she spotted him, she was sure she was just being silly.
Caroline was just some American podcaster in Paris doing research for her show. She wasn’t anyone to follow …
Unless she was actually getting close to the truth.
As a shiver ran down her spine, Caroline noticed that the man in black was still trailing her. He kept just enough distance to appear like he was doing his own thing, but she couldn’t shake her paranoia.
She thought of the perfect test as she walked by the shop-lined street.
Would the man in black follow her into a high-end lingerie store? Caroline went with her theory and ducked into the shop. The store was brightly lit, and as soon as she walked in, a willowy woman smiled at her.
“Bonjour,” the woman said before continuing in French, none of which Caroline understood.
“Do you speak English?” Caroline asked.
The woman shook her head. “Non.”
“Does anyone else speak English?” Caroline sighed and shook her head. “Of course, you can’t even answer that because you don’t understand me.” With another sigh, she stepped farther into the shop. “I think someone is following me. Can I stay here for a second?”
The woman only blinked at her before encouragingly grabbing a negligee and handing it to Caroline with more French she couldn’t decipher.
“Oh, fine.” Caroline grabbed the scrap of material … a bright red negligee that was way too risque for her … and pointed to the changing rooms. “Can I try this on?”
“Oui, oui.” The woman smiled again and motioned for Caroline to follow her.
In the relative safety of the dressing room, Caroline eyed the piece of lingerie. She wasn’t actually going to try it on. This was only to waste time. But the longer she spent in the store, the more likely it was that the man would lose interest if he was indeed following her.
Or, more accurately, if she left the store and he was still out there, then she would know for sure she was being followed.
And what would shedoif that were the case? Whatcouldshe do? She was in a foreign country, and she didn’t speak the language.
Serves me right for choosing the Vases of Destiny. I told Joan it was too risky, but did she listen to me? No. Of course not. Now, some major creeper is following me. If I die because of this, I’m going to be so pissed!
There were a lot of things Caroline hadn’t done yet that she would regretnotdoing if she did die.Maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe I watch too much true crime.
She snorted and laughed at this. As a true-crime podcaster, her whole life was one long true-crime episode. It was only natural that she should be overly cautious.
And a tad paranoid.
The lingerie store worker spoke to her through the door, but Caroline couldn’t understand. “Just a second,” she shouted. “Not that you understand anything I say.” Caroline pulled out her cell phone and typed up an email to Joan.
I think someone is following me.
She described the man as best as possible before sending the email. Joan’s reply came quickly despite the time difference between Paris and New York City.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is following you. Do your research, and stop being such a child,” Caroline read out loud. “Caring and loving as ever. It’s not like some people haven’t already been murdered over this,” she mumbled before peeking out of the changing room.
From her vantage point, she couldn’t see onto the street. Yet, enough time had passed. She would either have to spend way too many Euros on a piece of lingerie she would never wear or face the street again.
Caroline handed the piece of lace and silk to the woman and smiled. “No luck,” she said. “Thanks for letting me hide here even though you do not understand a single word I say.”
