Jess

Jess

I grip the knife, ready to defend Ben—and myself—should either of them come closer. Strangely, they don’t seem so threatening right now. The air feels less charged with tension. Nick is looking from Sophie to Ben and back; his eyes wild. Something else is going on here, something I can’t understand. And yet still I grip the knife. I can’t let my guard down.

“My husband is dead,” Sophie Meunier says. “That is what happened.” At these words I watch Nick stagger backward. He didn’t know?

“Qui?” he says, hoarsely. “Qui?” I think he must be asking who.

“My daughter,” Sophie Meunier says, “she was trying to protect Ben. I have been keeping your brother here,” she gestures in our direction, “I have kept him alive.” She says it like she thinks she deserves some sort of credit. I can’t find the words to answer.

I look from one to the other, trying to work out how to play this. Nick is a shrunken figure: crouched down, head in his hands. Sophie Meunier is the threat here, I’m sure. I’m the one with the knife but I wouldn’t put anything past her. She steps toward me. I raise the knife but she barely seems fazed.

“You are going to let us go,” I say: trying to sound a lot more assertive than I feel. I might have a knife, but she has us trapped here: the outside gate is locked. I’m quickly realizing there’s no way we’re getting out of this place unless she agrees to it. I doubt Ben can stand without a lot of help and there’s the whole building between us and the outside world. She’s probably thinking the same thing.

She shakes her head. “I cannot do that.”

“Yes. You have to. I need to take him to a hospital.”

“No—”

“I won’t tell them,” I say, quickly. “Look . . . I won’t say how he got the injuries. I’ll . . . I’ll tell them he fell off his moped, or something. I’ll say he must have come back to his apartment—that I found him.”

“They won’t believe you,” she says.

“I’ll find a way to convince them. I won’t tell.” I can hear desperation in my voice now. I’m begging. “Please. You can take my word for it.”

“And how can I be sure of that?”

“What other choice do you have?” I ask. “What else can you do?” I take a risk here. “Because you can’t keep us here forever. People know I’m here. They’ll come looking.” Not exactly true. There’s Theo, but he’s presumably banged up in a cell right now and I never told him the address: it would take him some time to find out. But she doesn’t need to know this. I just need to sell it. “And I know you aren’t a killer, Sophie. As you say, you kept him alive. You wouldn’t have done that if you were.”

She watches me levelly. I have no idea if any of this is working. I sense I need something more.

I think of how she said, “My daughter,” the intensity of feeling in it. I need to appeal to that part of her.

“Mimi is safe,” I say. “I promise you that much. If what you’re saying is true, she saved Ben’s life. That means a lot—that means everything. I will never tell anyone what she did. I swear to you. That secret is safe with me.”