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Benoit rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll be in and out. Come on. What am I going to do? Rob him? Please, Benoit. I don’t want to get into trouble with Maxime. I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
He glances over my shoulder. “Is the place all right?”
“It’s lovely. Now will you help me?”
Taking his phone from his pocket, he says, “Maybe it’s in your bag. Have you checked carefully?”
I cross my arms. “Of course, I have.”
He scrolls down his screen and dials my number. “It’s dead.”
“Damn. The battery must’ve run flat.”
He sighs. “Fuck. Fine. In and out. Understand?”
“Thanks, Benoit.”
Benoit nods at the guard by my door. “No need to report this. We’re just going back for her phone.”
I swallow a sigh of relief as Benoit leads me to the underground parking and shows me my parking space.
“You’ll need the card I left in your visor to lower the concrete pillars that block vehicles from using the pedestrian area,” he explains. “Only residents are allowed on these roads.”
We get into the Mercedes. My nerves are all over the place. I can’t stop myself from fiddling with the tussles of my scarf.
“You all right?” Benoit asks, shooting me a sideways glance.
“Just unsettled.” When he frowns at me, I add, “With the change and all.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Don’t beat myself up about cheating? Don’t be upset about Maxime’s upcoming engagement and wedding?
The usual guards are around when we stop at the house, but they don’t ask questions. For all they know, Benoit is acting on Maxime’s instructions.
Benoit stops in the entrance to take off his coat. I glance around the space in which I already feel like a stranger. It’s as if my mind and heart know I’m no longer welcome, whereas my feet carry me along the familiar path to the library wing. Oh, thank God. The door to Maxime’s study stands open, just as I hoped.
“Where did you leave it?” Benoit calls after me.
“I’m not sure. I think the last time I used it was in the library.”
I listen for sounds of life before I enter. Only the faint clanging of pots and pans come from the kitchen on the other side of the house. There seems to be no one else except for us and Francine.
“Get a move on,” Benoit says.
I turn over cushions and feel along the seams of the couch. “Do you mind checking in the kitchen? I don’t feel like facing Francine.”
“I thought you said you used it here.”
“I think so, but I can’t remember,” I say, straightening. “Maybe I left it in the kitchen where I had breakfast.”
“I should just tell Maxime to check the geolocation,” he grumbles.
“Only as a last resort. Maxime will be furious with me.”
I pretend to look around the desk, watching from under my lashes until he walks through the door. The minute he’s gone, I tiptoe to the frame and peer around. When he rounds the corner, I rush to the study, trying to make as little noise with my heels on the floor as possible.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. If Benoit catches me, he’ll definitely tell Maxime. There will be hell to pay. I’ll lose whatever little freedom I have. Maxime will no doubt think up a cruel lesson to punish me, and I would’ve wasted the only opportunity I’ll ever have of escaping.
Hurrying to his desk, I start at the most obvious place by going through his drawers. I yank open the top one and search through the neat stack of files. The second drawer holds old invoices and receipts, and the third stationary. My hope sinking, I go for the top drawer on the other side. More papers and files. Shit. My hand shakes uncontrollably as I pull open the second drawer. A notepad and diary. My breathing is staccato when I grip the handle of the last drawer. Please, God, let it be here. I pull, but the drawer is stuck. Something has bent upward inside, preventing it from sliding open. I look around on the desk, and settle on a ruler. Wiggling it through the small space at the top of the drawer, I manage to push down the papers blocking it and free the drawer. I almost pull it off its track when it finally gives.
Hurry, Zoe. Hurry.
I stick my hand inside, and then freeze. A stack of envelopes tied with a ribbon is pushed to the back of the drawer. That’s what got stuck. The pile is so big it’s higher than the drawer.
My breath catches. I can’t drag air into my lungs. It’s as if I’ve taken a punch in the stomach. I know what those letters are even before I pull the pile out and turn it to the light. My handwriting. Damian’s address in jail.
