says and throws the keys to Doubira. She gets in on the passenger side, turning her head so she’ll see their tail in her peripheral vision without showing the man she knows he’s there.
Doubira catches the keys and has the little rental backing out of its space in less than ten seconds. “Where to?”
Clothilde appears beside me, her eyes wild. “What’s going on? Why are we leaving? We have to follow them to the café!”
We’re still figuring out the rules of being a ghost out in the world. We knew the rules of our cemetery by heart—difficult not to after being stuck there for thirty years. We were limited to the confines of the cemetery. Even if someone left a gate open, we couldn’t go through. Not having physical forms, we tried going under the walls but were stopped short at any point right below them. Going over had much the same effect.
Now, with our ghostly forms attached to the small bones Evian carries on her wrist, we’re stuck in whatever space she’s in. If she’s in a room with the door closed, we’re stuck in the room. If the door’s open, we can go through it but only so far. Generally speaking, we can’t go much farther than fifty meters from Evian or it starts becoming very uncomfortable for us.
If we’re not in the same space as Evian when a door closes, we’re sucked back to her in a millisecond—another disagreeable experience. And exactly what just happened to Clothilde since she was following her uncle.
“We’re being followed,” I tell Clothilde. “And so is your uncle. So we’re going to try to get rid of the tail and then go listen in on what your uncle has to say.”
“What!”
Before she can start a tirade that might distract our overly sensitive Evian, I point out the rear view window. Before the parking lot passes out of sight, we can see the man from earlier run toward a white Golf.
“See that guy? Him and his friend were hanging out with the cemetery workers, watching your uncle—and possibly Evian and Doubira. Now this one is following us and the other one is shadowing your uncle.” I move into Clothilde’s direct field of vision to catch her gaze. “We need to let Evian and Doubira focus on doing their job right now, okay? We’ll get back to your uncle. We all want to hear what he has to tell us.”
She’s not happy about it but she shuts up. We settle in in the back seat.
“You know this village?” Evian asks from the front passenger seat. She has her seat belt on but seems to trust Doubira’s skills behind the wheel and is as calm as she was when we arrived an hour ago.
“Not this one, specifically,” Doubira replies. “But all these villages around Toulouse are the same. Lots of small streets, not a single straight angle, and the church in the middle.”
“Pretend like we’re heading for Toulouse, then try to lose him without going too far from the center. We need to get back to Lucien Klein. He might be in danger.”
Doubira’s smile is still in place as he takes a quick turn down the main street running through the village. I see the appearance of the white car behind us as we disappear from view.
Doubira proceeds to take the first road on the left—a road so narrow there’s barely room for the small rental. The street is full of potholes and the walls of the old brick houses on each side seem to bend slightly outward, making the place feel very claustrophobic.
Luckily, the street is a short one, and Doubira takes the next right, this time before I can catch sight of our follower—so logically, he hasn’t seen us either.
This street is slightly wider—it’s technically possible to meet a car going in the other direction—but of the same quality.
Evian is bumped up and to the side in her seat but doesn’t seem to mind. Clothilde and I don’t bother to follow the movement of the car; we simply stay in the general vicinity of the back seat.
At least there’s some advantage to being a ghost.
Again, Doubira turns. One left, another left, now right.
He pulls into the yard of an old farm and runs the car all the way into the open barn.
The countryside around Toulouse is filled with these farms; a rather large brick or stone house, facing the south, and an open barn on the west side, with wooden beams, a hayloft, and red-tiled roofs. Historically, they were used for stocking hay and tools but now that hardly any of the farms are active, the houses are renovated by people wanting space and accepting the commute into the city every day, and the barns become storage sheds or garages.
Doubira leans back to look out the back window. “I don’t think we’re visible from the street,” he says. “Sorry I’m not parked ass first.”
Evian chuckles. “Considering the circumstances, that’s quite all right.”
Doubira studies the house. Only one of the shutters is open but there’s a light on inside. “Want me to have a talk with the owners?”
“Please do.” Evian has her phone out and is tapping on the screen. “I’ll keep Diome updated but I’m telling him we don’t want anyone to show up yet.”
Doubira jumps out of the car and walks up to a door I hadn’t noticed. Seems like it’s a way to walk dryfoot from the house to the barn—and it means Doubira doesn’t need to expose himself to view from the street.
Evian exchanges several messages with her superior, the Commander Nouh Diome, but I don’t bother reading over her shoulder. If she gets any interesting information, she’ll tell Doubira about it when he comes back.
After a minute, the door opens and a woman in her thirties with a baby on her hip comes into view. Doubira is quick to show some ID but as he explains the situation, the woman doesn’t seem particularly reassured. Still, she ends up nodding before closing the door.
When Evian steps out of the car to join Doubira, the woman opens the window to what appears to be her kitchen and leans out to close the shutters.
The building now looks empty.
“There’s no back door or gate, so we’ll have to go out the same way we came in,” Doubira says. “But the car can stay here.”
“You didn’t happen to get directions to the café?”
“Shit.” Doubira grimaces. “Didn’t think of that.” He looks back at the house.
“Leave her be,” Evian says. “We’ll find it.”
They listen for the sound of any cars but when the only thing we can hear are a couple of barking dogs down the street, they walk quickly toward the street.
Clothilde and I stay as far ahead of them as possible, in the hopes that if we shout a warning, they will somehow hear us.
They choose the narrowest streets as they make their way on foot back in direction of the church. Some are no more than narrow alleys between houses where Evian and Doubira can hide if needed, and shadowy doorways are only a quick jump away.
At one point, the sound of a car approaching has the two officers slinking into a doorway with an overhang. They’re not quite hidden but the shadows are on their side, especially with the glaring sunshine of this beautiful May morning.
I walk as far toward the sound as I comfortably can and get a clear view of the man in the white Golf as he cruises past. He’s looking left and right, driving way below the speed limit—but he doesn’t see Evian and Doubira in their hiding place.
There’s a good chance he’s looking for a car and not two people on foot.
A couple of turns later and we’re on the village square. In the middle, a parking lot surrounded by plane trees. On one side, the church, with its cemetery fanning out behind it. Across the square, the Town Hall, the French flag hanging limp from its pole.
And to our left where we come out of a narrow street, le Café de la Poste.
An old man reads the local paper at one of the outside tables but there’s no sign of my mother or Clothilde’s uncle.
Clothilde rushes over to look in the window. “They’re at one of the back tables,” she yells. “And some guy is sitting at a table not far away, fiddling with his phone. You think that’s our guy?”
I run over to check. “Yes, that’s the other guy.”
I go back to Evian and speak right into her ear. I know this confuses her sometimes, because she can most definitely hear me, only not on a conscious level. But right now, I have to make sure she gets my message.
“It’s the right café,” I tell her. “The guy who followed Klein is in there, with a clear view of the door.”
I think back to the layout of the café from my quick look earlier. “But there’s bound to be a back door.”
Shaking her head and rubbing a hand over her neck, Evian says to Doubira, “Let’s look for a back door.”