Left To Die

“Over the phone? You talked about a movie night, right? Said something about going out with your friends.”

“Yes, Addie, and I said that I was tired of not having you with me. Remember that part? Christ, for an investigator you sure suck at figuring out what’s beneath your nose. You’ve been gone for twenty days, Addie! This is the third time this year. Sometimes it feels like I’m dating a phone app, and that’s when you have time for a quick ten-minute call.”

Adele shook her head. She stepped back and retrieved her own luggage from the hall and dragged it over the suitcase in the door. She shook her head as she moved, frowning. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I thought…” She trailed off again, still shaking her head. She glanced down at her left hand and felt a sudden surge of embarrassment. Humiliation was the one emotion she had never quite learned how to suppress. She felt it swirl through her, bubbling in her stomach like hot tar. She felt her temper rising and set her teeth. Growing up with three passports, three nationalities, three loyalties as some saw it, Adele had been forced to weather all sorts of comments and jibes at her appearance, at her heritage. She had thick skin, with some things. Pervs on board jet planes were easy enough to handle.

But vulnerability? Intimacy? Failing in those areas always left her with a deep pit of self-loathing formed by humiliation and fear. She could feel it clawing its way through her now, ripping apart her calm, tearing down her facade.

“Fine,” she said, her face stony. “Fine then. If you want to leave, then leave.”

“Look, it doesn’t have to be like that,” Angus said, and she could hear the hurt in his voice. “I just can’t do it, Addie. I miss you too much.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it. You wanna know what’s funny? Christ—I can’t even believe it.” She snorted in disgust at her own stupidity. “I thought you were going to marry me. I thought you were going to propose. Ha!”

Angus shook his head in small, jagged little motions that caused his curly hair to shift. “You’re already married, Adele. And you’re loyal—I know you won’t cheat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I should have known when we first started dating. The signs were there. But you’re just so damn pretty, sexy, smart. You’re the most driven person I know. I guess—I guess I didn’t want to see it. But you’re married to your job. I’m second place. Every time.”

“That’s not—”

“True? Really? Say it if you believe it. Tell me that next time you get a call to go out of state for three weeks that you’ll turn it down. You’ll request to stay at the office here. Tell me you’ll do that, and I’ll stay. Hell, I’ll march right back in our room and unpack this damn minute. Tell me you’ll say no if they call.”

Adele stared at him, the hurt in his voice and in his eyes pricking her pride and deflating her once more. She studied his eyes behind the glasses. She hadn’t realized just how long his eyelashes were over his dark stare. It hurt to look at him, so she averted her gaze.

“See,” he said after a moment of silence. “You can’t. You can’t promise that you’ll choose me first. I hope it’s worth it, Addie. It’s just a job.”

He began to step past her, into the hall.

Adele didn’t turn, preferring to stare sightless across the small space of their cramped apartment.

“It isn’t,” she said, listening to the sound of Angus’s retreating footsteps. “It’s not just a job…” She clenched her fists at her sides. “It isn’t.”

She heard him heave a massive sigh. She could feel him watching her, paused in the middle of the hallway. For a moment, she half hoped he would turn back, tell her it was all some big mistake. But after a moment, he said, “There’s food in the microwave, Addie. I saved you some leftovers in the fridge as well. You should be good for a couple of days.”

Then the elevator doors dinged, there was the sound of shuffling feet and rolling wheels, and when Adele turned back around, Angus was gone.

CHAPTER TWO

Stars winked down at Marion, coy twinkles of light witnessing the twenty-four-year-old woman’s progress from the small coffee shop out into the heart of the city’s night. The many odors of the Seine wafted on the air, confronting her with the scent of river musk and the residue of the bakeries which had closed until morning. The blare from the horns of impatient drivers replaced the usual sounds of bells which normally tolled across the city. She heard a low, buzzing noise. Listened for only a moment, then placed the sound as that of a tourist boat zipping by beneath the arching structure of the Pont d’Arcole.

Marion exhaled softly as she stepped from the coffee shop onto the sidewalk, taking it all in. This was her city. She’d lived here her whole life and had no intention of ever leaving. One could grow old and still not find all the adventures hidden within the historic place. She nodded in greeting at an elderly couple walking past, recognizing them from the intersection of their nighttime routines.