to panic. She recognizes the feeling, hates the fact that it’s back, even if it’s for a situation nothing like what she lived through in the past. Especially because it’s for…nothing.
There was nothing in that room. Just an oddly decorated guest room and her neighbor telling ghost stories.
And yet she needed to get away from that window. She was trapped—by absolutely nothing—and was on the verge of scrambling across the bed and out the door like some easily scared fourteen-year-old in a haunted house at the fair.
At least in a haunted house, everybody screams. Malik and Madame Villemur looked at her like she was going crazy, and Amina…Amina looked bloody keen. She wanted someone to believe in her ghost story and Emeline walked right into it.
Now she’s standing in her neighbor’s living room, trying to catch her breath without the others noticing, and itching to get out. To go as far away from that room as possible.
Amina is already in the kitchen, heating up her chili. Right. They’re supposed to stay for dinner.
“Amina, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to leave.” She meets Malik’s eyes and hopes he won’t question her in front of their witness and her neighbor. “We have to get in touch with our colleagues and figure out what happened after we took off earlier. Would it be okay if we leave Madame Villemur with you here for tonight?”
Amina’s hand is frozen over the casserole as she stares at Emeline in surprise. “You still need to eat, don’t you? This will be ready in five minutes.”
Emeline shakes her head and is already at the door. “It smells delicious, but we really can’t.” She realizes she doesn’t have Amina’s number or even her last name. “Doubira, would you mind taking Amina’s information? And give her our numbers so she can contact us if anything happens.”
Then she’s out the door, four steps down the hallway, and into her own apartment.
It’s pathetic how relieved she is when she realizes Amina’s guest room isn’t in contact with her own apartment in any way.
Two minutes later Malik joins her in her sad and boring living room. Her phone beeps with a message—it’s Malik sending her Amina’s information.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’m sorry to have dragged you away from a delicious meal like that.” She shows the app already open on her phone. “What kind of takeout do you want?”
Malik looks like he has a lot of questions but he’s also too nice and too capable of reading body language to ask them. He looks at his watch, then out the window where the last of the daylight is about to slip away.
“Maybe I should head home,” he says. “We can continue searching for the guy in the white car tomorrow.”
“I don’t really care about the guy in the car right now,” Emeline admits. “The others can take care of him.” She checks her messages again to make sure she didn’t miss anything. “I’m worried about the lack of response from Diome. I haven’t heard a word from him all day.”
“Maybe he forgot his phone at home today?” Malik gives a lopsided smile.
Emeline sighs. “God, I hope that’s the case. But somehow, I don’t think that’s it.”
Malik pauses for a beat. “You really want me to stay? I won’t be offended if you kick me out to get some time on your own.”
Emeline lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “It was that obvious I was freaking out, huh?”
“Freaking out, yes. At what, not so much.”
Emeline nods. Doesn’t know what to say. Goes with some procrastination. “How do you feel about kebabs?”
Malik raises his eyebrows.
“What? I love kebab and there’s a place just down the street that does a mean one and they deliver. Or we can get sushi if you prefer.”
“Kebab is fine.” Malik looks around the apartment, taking in the worn furniture and haphazard decorations left behind by previous tenants. He removes his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. “It is better than a hotel, I guess.”
“Barely,” Emeline agrees. She’s about to add that the neighbors are nice but remembers Amina’s ghost and keeps quiet.
Malik sinks into the couch, somehow managing to slouch even in something that uncomfortable. The man is capable of looking upright and serious when needed but when he lets go, he really lets go.
“So,” he says, his hands folded in his lap. “Didn’t like the ghost?”
“We need to figure out why we don’t have any news from the station,” Emeline says firmly.
Malik shakes his head. “We’ll get to that. First, I need to understand what happened at your neighbor’s. I haven’t known you for very long, but you don’t seem like the type to jump at shadows and ghost stories. You’re one of the most level-headed people I’ve ever met. But you jumped away from nothing in there. Whatever that was, it scared you more than facing down a man with a gun earlier today.”
So they are really having this conversation. It was probably inevitable. And better to do it one-on-one here than at the coffee machine at work.
“I, uh…” Emeline takes a deep breath, bracing herself. “I think that room really has a ghost. I have some sort of…affinity for them.”
“An affinity for ghosts.” Malik doesn’t look like he quite believes her. But he’s not laughing at her, either.
“Yes. It started some years ago.” No need to give the details of the exact moment. “I always knew to trust my gut instincts on the job but since then it’s been particularly…spot on. And you know that feeling you get when someone’s watching you? That prickling at the back of your neck? That’s pretty much a constant state for me.”
Emeline runs her fingers over her bracelet. The one with the bones from Clothilde Humbert and Robert Villemur. The feeling of being watched has been constant since she started working on this case, to the point where she doesn’t even really notice it anymore.
But whatever occupies Amina’s guest room is different from what she’s used to.
“You see ghosts?” It’s impossible to tell if Malik believes her, is humoring her, or is setting her up for a fall. His tone is completely neutral.
“I don’t see them. Feel them. Feel something. It’s impossible for me to tell if it’s really ghosts since I can’t see them. But in some instances, like in that guest room, I have a much stronger reaction than most.”
Malik chews on that for a moment, his eyes piercing. “All right,” he finally says. “I honestly don’t know what to do with that. I can’t say I believe you. But I also can’t say that I don’t. There was no reason for you to react like that in there unless something was really bothering you.” He adds a half-smile. “And you don’t seem crazy.”
“Thanks for the ringing endorsement.”
Malik chuckles. “My pleasure. Now, where is that kebab?”
On cue, the intercom rings. Emeline answers, buzzing the delivery guy inside the building. “Would you mind running down to pick it up?” she asks Malik.
“Sure thing.” Malik jumps out of the couch and is out the door in less than five seconds.
Now Emeline has about two minutes to get her head back on straight.