Ma douce bête.
What does it mean?
Leaving the app, I open the translator and write the French words. Double-checking the spelling, I add the accent mark and read the translation.My sweet beast.
Did Rose meet someone while she was in Paris?
I go back to her profile and review the captions. In one post, she wrote about enjoying her time in Paris, as if that time were ending. In another, she says goodbye.
No wonder the police didn’t investigate. Rose clearly left of her own free will.
The coffee is finished, so I pour a cup, my mind whirling with everything I’ve learned. And everything I still don’t know.
Why is Alice so certain something happened to Rose? Because of Rose’s behavior in the video chat? A chat she never resumed?
Alice admitted she and Rose weren’t on speaking terms. Did something in the journal make Rose change her mind, make her want to reach out to her sister?
Even if she did, it’s possible Rose needed more time and decided not to tell Alice where she was going next.
At this point, I don’t know what to believe.
Alice is a stranger to me. I don’t know her any better than I do the Marteaus. Sure, the family’s eccentric, the mansion has a history, and Ric is a creep. But is all that reason enough to accept Alice’s theory? Her accusations?
Cup in hand, I march to the stairs and up to the study. The book sits where I left it on the sofa. Not nearly as ominous as it felt in my hands last night.
“You were always on the chair, weren’t you?” Blowing out a breath, I roll my neck before sipping the coffee.
I have days left in Paris, and I don’t want every hour to be tainted by doubt and delusions. No more figures in the dark or blood in my nightmares.
I’m sick of being scared. Sick of questioning myself.
Opening my phone again, I send a text to Noah.
Does that invitation still stand?
In less than a minute, I have my answer.
Absolutely.
I can almost picture his face as he typed his reply, and the thought makes me smile.
Then I’ll see you Saturday.
Little bubbles appear to tell me he’s typing.
I’ll pick you up at your place. Don’t need directions.
A laugh escapes me. Not only handsome but funny, too.
My mood improved, I walk next door to my bedroom. It won’t take long to dry my hair and get ready. Then I can go out.
I need to get a costume.
21
I exit out the front door, then turn the corner to walk through the gardens. After last night’s rain, the leaves glisten and the greenery seems fuller—fresh and invigorating, like only a spring garden can be.
I’m not sure what clicked for me this morning. Maybe having my audition done or realizing I’d let trivial things erode my inner peace. But today, I’m full of energy.
