Paris Love Match

Chapter 33





The police officer led Sidney out of her cell in the women’s wing of the Commissariat de Police du 5th arrondissement. The smell of cheap disinfectant was everywhere. They walked past the guards to the interview rooms as they had done each day. Sidney hated the interviews. She had begun by trying to explain everything, but that seemed to get her into more trouble, so she had clammed up. Let the police work things out for themselves.

As the officer unlocked the room, Sidney glimpsed Piers at the end of the corridor and shouted his name.

The officer shoved her into the room and slammed the door before she could figure out if Piers had seen her.

She shook herself free of the officer’s grasp. “I want to talk to him.”

The officer scowled. “I’m sure you do. The inspector’s orders are that you two are to be kept separate, and I intend to follow that. To. The. Letter.”

The officer gestured for Sidney to sit.

Sidney looked at the officer. “I just want to see him. Just a few minutes. Nothing long. You could be there. The inspector, even. I just . . .”

The officer held up her hand and shook her head. “You’re a prime suspect in an ongoing investigation. It’s not possible.”

“But is he okay?”

The officer glowered at her for several seconds. “He’s fine.”

“Really? His chest? The knife wound—”

“I told you, he’s fine.”

“Will you tell him I’m thinking of him?”

The officer just stared at her.

Sidney leaned forward. “Has he asked about me?”

“I’ve told you all I can. What monsieur Chapman does or thinks, I cannot say.”

“But . . .”

The officer held up her hand. “Non. No more.”

Sidney sank back in her seat. Had he asked about her? Surely the officer would tell her that much, wouldn’t she? And what did she mean by “does or thinks”? Was she avoiding telling her something she wouldn’t like to hear?

Sidney sighed. She knew what she didn’t want to hear. Maybe the woman knew it, too. Had his emotions cooled with a week in a cell? Was that it? Was that what the woman was avoiding?

She bit her lip and mashed her hands together. She remembered everything about him. Banging heads in the shower. His stupid act to get past the police officer at Auguste’s apartment, then returning with a dog. Running away from the bank after he crashed the police car into their revolving door. Finding the painting.

She breathed out hard and straightened her back. He really had seemed different. Hell, he was probably the bravest person she’d ever met. He’d come back for her. Faced the dictator and his men, and saved her life, even after she had been the one to put their lives in danger. He’d turned out to be a real, live James Bond.

But it had only been one day. A wild day, but just one. And was that it? Had he gone back to his old self now that the adrenaline had gone?

The door creaked and the inspector walked in. He had a wad of papers in his hands and a pen tucked behind his ear.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle. You are ready to help us this morning, non?”

Sidney took a deep breath and stared at him. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”