Had he
ever glimpsed her passing the window, closing the curtains?
The sound of a car engine starting suddenly broke through the
quiet evening. A second later a swath of light beamed just a foot
beside her and beyond, as far as she could see, into the woods.
She ducked behind a small wooden utility shed stationed alongside
the drive. White light pierced through the tiny cracks and seams
of the shed. Cautiously she peeked around its edge. A car
appeared from between the cottages, its light sweeping past the
shed as it steered onto the drive. Greta flattened herself
against the side of the small building and crept around the
corner once the car had completely passed.
Was he going out for the night? The sound of the engine grew
distant, then came a high squealing noise when the car reached
the end and turned onto the main road. Once more, the sounds of
the night and her own pulse were all she could hear. She left her
cover and pressed on.
No, she saw at once, it hadn't been Jean-Pierre because his MG
was parked in front of the cottage. Avoiding the light cast by
the lamp outside the front door, she circled around to the back
of the small house. She peered into the bedroom window. The room
was lit by a small lamp beside an empty bed with twisted sheets.
The sight caused her breath to catch. She rushed to the back
stoop and halted before the door, flexed her hands a few times.
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