Page 99

“Yes.”

He nods slowly, as though this confirms something he already suspected. He produces a small notebook from his coat pocket, a stub of pencil. “Your address, madame. I will bring what food I can. It won’t be much, but it will be something.”

Stéphanie gives it to him without hesitation. You learn that there are people in this city you can trust without needing to know why.

“Tell the child she is safe,” Maurice says, tucking the notebook away. “Tell her M. Dupont is watching, and he will let you know when things change.”

He touches the brim of his cap and is gone.

Stéphanie stands on the pavement for a moment, steadying herself. Then she turns and makes her way through the park, to the girls’ school, to Mlle Évrard.

The headmistress opens the door, takes one look at Stéphanie’s face, and steps aside to let her in. Stéphanie explains quietly. The arrest, the child, what she has come for. Mlle Évrard listens without interrupting, her expression grave and still.

“Wait here,” she says.

She disappears and returns with her arms full: a spare school smock, neatly folded, a dress that will need taking in but will do, and a small bundle of underwear wrapped in brown paper.

“They are spare clothes I keep here, just in case,” Mlle Évrard says, setting them in Stéphanie’s arms. “They will fit Josie well enough.” She pauses, then adds more quietly: “You will tell her she is not forgotten? That there are people looking out for her.”

“I will,” Stéphanie says. “Thank you.”

Mlle Évrard shakes her head. “Don’t thank me. Just keep her safe.”

Josie and Monique are sitting together at the dining table when Stéphanie comes home, both watching the door with the stillness of children who have been waiting and are trying not to show it.

Stéphanie sets everything down, pulls up a chair, and sits facing them both. She takes Josie’s hands in hers.

“I’m sorry, my love. I couldn’t get into your apartment.” She keeps her voice steady, gentle. “I was stopped before I could get there. The Militia are still inside. M. Dupont made sure I knew before I got too close. He knows you are here with us, and he will tell us the moment it is safe to go back.”

Josie is very still.

“I need you to understand why I’m telling you this,” Stéphanie continues. “Not to frighten you, but because you are old enough to know the truth. And because knowing the truth is how we keep you safe—the way your family wanted you kept safe.”

Monique reaches under the table and takes Josie’s hand.

Stéphanie lifts the folded clothes and holds them out. “Mlle Évrard sent these for you. A dress, a smock, some things you will need. She wanted you to know that you have people looking out for you. You are not forgotten.”

Josie looks down at the small, neat bundle in her lap. Her chin trembles once, then stills. She nods.

“Thank you,” she says, very quietly. “Thank you for going.”

“You don’t need to thank us. We’re doing what’s right. What anyone should do.”

But Josie knows most people wouldn’t. Most people look the other way. Most people choose safety over righteousness.

The Levallois family didn’t look away. And now they’re gone.

They bring Andrée back to her cell. She can barely walk. The guards half carry, half drag her before throwing her inside. The stone floor is cold against her face. She doesn’t try to get up. She can’t.

Hours pass. Or maybe only minutes. She can no longer tell.

When her cell door opens again, two guards enter and pull her to her feet.

“Someone wants to see you.”

They take her down a different corridor. Through a door. Into a larger room.

Captain Vernet stands near the wall. Smiling. That same cold smile.