"It's more perilous not to tell someone they're loved. I would have regretted it all my life if Jessica hadn't known I-" She cleared her throat to rid it of huskiness and headed for the door." I won't be long. I just need to clear my head. Thirty minutes or so…"
She walked very fast along the beach, her back straight and her head high.
She looked like a soldier going into battle, Travis thought.
She's a fighter.
They were the words she had used to describe Cassie, but they also applied to Melissa. A scarred warrior going forth to fight Cassie's monsters.
What the hell was he doing standing there watching her? She was absorbing entirely too much of his attention, when he needed to focus on getting himself out of this mess and going after Deschamps. He couldn't even give lust as an excuse, although that had been there between them from the beginning. How could you lust after a woman who made you want to heal and protect at the same time? Come on, admit it, he was a man and, hell, yes, he wanted to get her in bed. It didn't matter that she was hurting and he was torn with compassion. Maybe because sex was the safest relationship he could have with her. Anything else would involve him in ways that could change his life, and he had long ago opted out of the path she was traveling. He didn't need to let himself in for the role of knight trailing at the heels of a damsel fending off dragons.
He had his own monsters to subdue, and there was nothing idealistic about that battle. It was going to be dirty and fraught with greed and violence.
And it was time he set about doing it. He reached for his phone and dialed the number Galen had given him for Stuart Thomas.
"I've found a trail," Galen said when Travis answered his phone the next evening. "Danielle Claron's parents, Philip and Marguerite Dumair, still live in the village where she grew up. Jeanne Beaujolis lived on the next block, and she was in and out of Danielle's house all during their childhood. She visited them frequently even after she took the job of nurse to Cassie. From talking to the neighbors, I gather she boasted a lot about her fine position and was a trifle patronizing to the villagers."
"Have you been to see the Dumairs?"
"Not yet. I've been scoping out the neighborhood to find out if anyone's seen anyone of Deschamps's description in the village."
"And?"
"No luck."
"Then talk to the Dumairs and give them your phone number. They don't have to tell us where their daughter is if they don't trust us. They just have to give her the message that we're offering money and protection from Deschamps if she'll come out of hiding and tell us anything she knows about him."
"How much money?"
"The limit."
"Our pockets are pretty lean right now unless you want to use the diamonds."
"If I have to, I'll tap the Swiss account."
"And chance having the CIA breathing down your neck?"
"I can't use the diamonds and I've already promised Thomas cash in exchange for the diamond. Send him ten thousand from your fund, will you?"
"Thanks. I live to please. Why?"
" It's safer than my going into my accounts. As far as we know, Andreas isn't aware you're involved yet."
"A state that can't go on forever." Galen sighed. "Danley must have heard of my cleverness and brilliant ingenuity. Such perfection doesn't go unnoticed. It's only a matter of time until he decides I'm the only one who could successfully keep you out of his clutches."
"True."
"You're agreeing only because you want me to send Thomas the money."
"Also true."
"Have you talked to Karlstadt yet?"
"After you pick up the diamond from Thomas. I want to be able to tell Karlstadt it's been retrieved."
"He may decide to cut your throat regardless."
"Not as long as I have the rest of the diamonds."
"Except the ones the CIA are holding."
"I'll have to do some negotiating there. All you have to worry about is negotiating with the Dumairs."
"I'd judge that a little safer." A pause. "I had some other news. I think I'm on track to find out where Deschamps stays when he's in Paris."
"What?"
"You told me to put out feelers. I made contact with Pichot, who was with the Sons of Liberty group about the same time as Deschamps. He may be able to tell me something."
"For money?"
"No, he owes me a favor."
"When will you know?"
"It may take a while. Pichot wants to make sure Deschamps won't find out he was the one who told me." He changed the subject. "How are Melissa and Cassie doing?"
"Better than expected. Cassie hasn't had any more nightmares. Melissa believes there's a chance she won't have them again."
"And she should know. Our Melissa is a little on the fey side."
"Why do you say that?"
"You may not regard her tiny idiosyncrasies as unusual, but my mum taught me to always be wary of things that go bump in the night."
"You never knew your mother."
"You really know how to spoil a story." He paused. "Melissa…sees too much, Travis."
"Some people say the same of you."
"But I don't go bump in the night."
"And if you do, they never see you coming."
He chuckled. "Have you noticed that you always defend her? Maybe she's got the old voodoo on you."
"Don't be an asshole."
The chuckle became a laugh. "Just thought I'd call it to your attention. I'm not attacking her. I like her. How could I help it? Except for those little idiosyncrasies, she's just like me. Give her my best. Good-bye, Travis."
"Call me when you've talked to the Dumairs." He hung up.
Paris
"Ready?" Galen slipped the phone into his pocket after talking to Travis." Let's do it, Pichot."
"You lied to him."
"My mum never taught me the virtues of sharing." He moved toward the car. "Cardeau was one of mine and Deschamps killed him." He smiled. "Besides, I'm much better at this than Travis. It's one of my specialties."
"I know." Pichot grimaced. "I'm counting on it. I want to get out of this alive."
"You will." Galen started the car. "Now, where is this place?"
"Number fifteen Rue Lestape."
"Was that Galen on the phone?" Travis turned to see Melissa a few feet away, hair tousled, wearing a navy blue Sorbonne nightshirt.
"Yes."
"Has he found Danielle Claron?"
He shook his head. "He's trying to persuade her parents to give her a message if they know where she is. They live in St. Ives, a small village outside Lyon, not too far from Henri Claron's farm."
"There's a chance they do know?"
"Don't we all cling to our parents? It's natural to run to them for safety. Some say it's the strongest bond we have in our lifetime." He looked beyond her to the bedroom. "Cassie?"
"Okay." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Stubborn. It's hell getting in and harder to make her listen. I have to plant myself and keep talking."
"What do you talk about?"
"The outside. Her father and mother. The Wind Dancer." She sat down in a chair and tucked one leg beneath her. "You."
"Me?"
"You're the bridge between the tunnel and the outside." She made a face. "She still trusts you. I'm the enemy right now."
"You can't make her understand?"
"She's seven years old. I'd have dug my heels in too if Jessica had tried the same tactics."
"And you're still sure they're the right tactics?"
"I have to be sure. Otherwise I'm lost. There's got to be a breakthrough soon." She leaned her head back on the chair. "I'm as impatient as you are to get her well."
"I've never said I was impatient."
"You didn't have to say it. I can feel it."
He smiled. "I'm glad Galen isn't here. He remarked on the fact that you're a little on the fey side."