Xavier was so close, two meters away. Coiled. Probably ready to attack the moment this man crossed the threshold.
“Of course.” Stepped back. Smiled through chattering teeth. “Come in.”
Make him uncomfortable. Make him leave fast.
He entered, scanning the studio. Single room, easy to assess. Kitchen area, bed against the wall, bathroom.
“The shower still run,” he noted, gesturing toward it. Water hammered against the tub inside, steady and loud. Steam escaped beneath.
Pulled the towel tighter, shivering harder. “Yeah, sorry, I was literally mid-shower when you knocked. Thought maybe the building was on fire or something.” Tried for a weak laugh. “Can we make this quick? I’m freezing to death here.”
The poor bastard’s gaze flicked down, once, for a second, before jerking away as though I’d burned him. His neck flushed red.
Good.
Make him uncomfortable. Make him want to leave.
“Of course. Very brief.” But he was already moving, scanning the small studio. His attention lingered on the bed against the wall, sheets rumpled, clearly slept in recently.
Nothing that screamed “harboring a fugitive who escaped from the river.”
Just a tired nurse living alone in a shitty apartment.
“You live alone,” he said again. Repeated. Testing, maybe. Waiting to see if my answer changed.
“Yes.”
“Boyfriend? Family?”
Let irritation seep into my voice. Crossed my arms over my chest, which made the towel ride up higher on my thighs. “My ex-boyfriend’s a cop. French national police. We broke up six months ago.” Sharpened my tone. “Is this about him? Because I already filed the harassment complaint with his supervisor...”
“Non, non.” Both palms raised quickly, placating. “Nothing like this. I apologize for intrusion, mademoiselle.” He gestured vaguely at the space. “The suspect we search for, he is very dangerous. You understand? Extremely dangerous. If you see anyone matching description, tall man, maybe injured, green irises, fair hair, you call police immediately. You do not approach.”
“I understand.” Another violent shiver wracked through me. Not faked. The cold bit deep now, turning my skin to ice.
“You are certain you see nothing unusual? Three nights ago, maybe? Any strange sounds?”
When I dragged Xavier inside through the service entrance, leaving a blood trail hidden by snow by morning.
“I worked a double shift back then.” Truth mixed with lies. Easier to sell. “Got home after midnight, passed out. Didn’t hear anything unusual. I did see a lot of police cars though.” Shrugged, teeth chattering. “Sorry I can’t help more.”
Slow nod. But his attention drifted, inevitably, back to the bathroom. The shower still hammered away inside. Steam curled out from under the opening, thickening the frigid air of the apartment.
One question.
One more suspicious detail.
One step toward that space to check why the hell the shower was running in an empty bathroom.
And everything falls apart.
Xavier would attack. The cop would call for backup. Blood everywhere. Probably some of mine too.
Or Xavier would die trying to fight his way out with broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and I’d spend the rest of my life wondering if I could’ve done more.
Chest tightened.
Don’t look. Don’t ask. Please don’t ask.
