Baker Thief

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Baker Thief Page 12

by Claudie Arseneault


  “Am I supposed to pity her?” Despite her rock-hard tone, Adèle thought of Claire shoving her off during their second encounter, of the panic in her you have no idea what’s going on, and she wondered. What was she missing? Pity or not, she would have to understand Claire in order to catch her.

  Em huffed at her question. “If that’s what it takes to remember the very real human under that mask, then yes, perhaps you should.”

  “I—” She stopped her protest. She had always been unwilling to give Claire a chance to have good reasons. It made her job easier. “Right. If stealing those exocores isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme, then I won’t find her looking for black market sales. You think she’s keeping them?”

  “Definitely.” Em paused as their path vanished under a large puddle, left over from yesterday’s rain. She hiked her skirts with a pout and attempted to avoid the deepest parts as she continued. “She was trying to figure out how they worked. And when I couldn’t tell her, she wanted to know as much as possible about my research.”

  “About solar energy and magic?” That was new. What did either have to do with the exocores?

  “Yes.” Em’s smile widened. “It’s been a while since someone took such an… intense interest in my research. She asked how magic could create a solid form of electricity, I think? So I detailed how we didn’t seek to use magic as the source of power itself, but as a sort of trap for it, embedded in a fabric that would only require its magic during the initial steps of production. But you know that. I need to stop rambling.” She chuckled and sipped her coffee. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to explain my research to a wet and masked witch!”

  Adèle marvelled at her sister’s ability to form fond memories about Claire’s intrusion the very morning after. Em had always rolled with the punches more easily, however—all except Julien’s death. Adèle required time and space to deal with others crossing her boundaries, and she’d yet to get over Claire breaking into her home. No matter the reasons, it’d always be a breach that had thrown Adèle off at a moment when she’d needed stability.

  “What do you think she’s doing with the exocores? Why would she want them?”

  “I don’t know. That’s your job, isn’t it? Perhaps she wants to use them, or is testing stuff on them. I do hope it’s not the latter. Without the proper equipment, concentrated energy can be dangerous. The Meltdown could never have killed so many without such a huge amount of magic localized in a single spot.”

  “So she could still be dangerous.”

  Em glared at Adèle, obviously disapproving of the conclusion. “She had a message for you. First, she confirmed she was after exocores, and that’s where you should look too. Second, she said she was sorry she broke into your house, even if she would do it again should you have another exocore.”

  “Great. I almost feel better about it.” Sarcasm aside, and despite her better judgment, she did feel relief. All it’d taken was a half-assed apology for her stomach to unwind and her anxiety to lighten, and that made her angry. “Not safer, though. Is she watching me? She knew we were sisters, if she told you that.”

  This time, Em’s smile vanished. She stopped and tensed. “I had never considered that. It’s sinister, but… I don’t think she came because I was your sister. She just used the opportunity.”

  “You’d better be right, for her sake.” Adèle already struggled to forgive Claire for breaking into her flat. If she’d sought her sister not only for the information, but to intimidate Adèle… it wouldn’t go well once Claire was caught. Adèle tore into her croissant and shoved a bite into her mouth, using the chewing time to control her anger. “You heard her questions. What do you think she’ll be doing now?”

  “Investigating Montrant Industries again.” Not an ounce of doubt lingered in Em’s voice. “Perhaps more aggressively than before. Their secrecy frustrated her, and talking about them is when she lost her façade, really.”

  “Makes sense. If she’s after exocores or their secret, she’ll look into unravelling their network and stealing their exocores. She might search either for warehouses where they store the cores or the scientists behind the technique.”

  “She tried already, but I think she will again.”

  In which case, Adèle would have to get to these things first. She could do it; she had the law behind her. “Thank you, Em. I didn’t expect to learn so much when you knocked this morning.”

  “Thank Claire.” Em laughed when she frowned. “She’s the one who braved heavy rain to talk science with me and reveal so much, knowing full well I was your sister.”

  Adèle stopped dead. Why would Claire let so much information slip? She’d covered her tracks about exocores before, disguising a precise theft by stealing random valuables. Did she think the charade was no longer worth her time? Perhaps Nsia Kouna’s article had blown it open too widely for her to care anymore. Yet she’d given away more than her designs regarding exocores. Em had enough information to predict her next step. Did Claire doubt Adèle could catch her? She was in for a bad surprise if that was the case.

  “I don’t like it.” She stared at the trees around, as if one would lean forward and whisper the answers into her ears. Claire could be misleading her, too, offering red herrings for Adèle to chase. Any of this information she’d dropped to Em might turn out false. She might be a fantastic actress. Yet they had nothing better and she had to pursue it. Or as Élise had put it: a good investigator never ignored a lead. Adèle shoved the rest of her croissant in her mouth, pondering how to approach this.

  Emmanuelle’s hand on her shoulders brought her back to the conversation. Her sister stared at her with a determined expression, confidence and seriousness shining in her rich brown eyes. “Whatever is going on, Adèle, I know you’ll get to the bottom of it. You’ll do the right thing.”

  A soft warmth spread through Adèle. This was exactly why she had missed her siblings so much. They all had a way to recenter and support each other when they needed it.

  “Thank you.” Adèle wrapped her arms around Em and squeezed. “I’m glad she didn’t hurt you. I’d never forgive myself if bad things happened to you because of me.”

  Em laughed—not at all the reaction Adèle expected, and one that left her a little offended, too. “Sweetheart, I know if anyone dared, there would be hell to pay.”

  Well, she wasn’t wrong either. Adèle squeezed her sister again before stepping back and resuming their stroll through the park. They’d both have to return to work soon, to dig into their respective mysteries, but until then Adèle intended to take every ounce of comfort and strength she could from her sister’s presence.

  * * *

  Nsia Kouna sat straight as a pole on their chair in the barren interrogation room, their fingers deftly playing with their pencil as they studied Adèle and Élise. The lanky journalist had accepted to come without protest, and between their wry smile and the quirk in their clearly defined eyebrows, Adèle had the distinct impression Kouna found the entire situation amusing. They must have talked with police before, and would not easily be intimidated. If anything, Kouna obviously expected the upper hand in this interview. They turned their attention to Adèle, smile widening.

  “I’m glad you’re on duty now, Madame l’Officier. Will I finally receive the answers to my questions?”

  Élise snorted. “Doubtful. We’re asking the questions today, Mx. Kouna, and you’re providing answers.”

  “Or so you hope, at any rate.” Kouna leaned back into their chair, and a spike of anger rose within Adèle. “You’ve read the article. What more do you want to know?”

  “How you acquired so much information, for a start.” Élise pulled a chair and sat down in front of Kouna. They had agreed earlier that she would conduct most of the interrogation while Adèle listened, ready to pick up on nuances in Kouna’s words. She remained standing, hands clasped behind her back. The journalist was so tall that Adèle doubted her height would intimidate, but she was afraid she’d fidget if
she sat. Focusing on others’ words was always a struggle, especially when her hands didn’t keep busy, and she needed to stay alert.

  “Am I to understand you confirm what is in my article?”

  “This does not answer my question.”

  Kouna shrugged with calculated calm. Strange, how expressive their thin and long face was while still betraying nothing of their thoughts. Their entire body language shifted with a smile, yet Adèle had no idea whether they felt tense or relaxed, amused or annoyed. “Perhaps we could trade. I answer one of your questions, and you answer one of mine. We both get what we want.”

  “Absolutely not.” Élise flicked her head, sending dark curls flying back. “You’re in a police station, Mx. Kouna, and I have no times for games. We have a thief to catch.”

  “An exocore thief,” Kouna said.

  “And we believe you have information that could help us,” Élise continued, as if they hadn’t said anything.

  Kouna leaned forward, putting down the pen and linking their fingers. They looked down on Élise, who instinctively straightened her shoulders to compensate. Adèle couldn’t help but think the journalist knew exactly what they were doing. They had been through this before. “Let’s not waste our respective time,” they said. “I have but one question for you: will you be investigating Montrant Industries, or are you only interested in arresting this thief?”

  Adèle’s breath caught. Now she wished Kouna hadn’t arrived at the police station before Adèle could tell Élise about Claire’s intrusion in Emmanuelle’s manor and the conclusions they had drawn from this. Élise would have no idea Claire was actively trying to unravel their network. Élise studied Kouna in silence for a long moment, her lips pursed. “Placing Claire under arrest for her numerous illegal acts is our first and main goal. We will do whatever it takes to achieve it.”

  “Then I’m not sure I can help you.” They pushed themselves up in one graceful movement. “What I know of Claire is in the article. I can’t tell you who is behind the mask or where to find her. All I am certain of is that she discovered a trail—something sinister—and she’s following it. Guess you’ll have to do your job to find her, though.”

  “I am doing my job,” Élise retorted. “Please sit down. We are not done.”

  “We are.” The pleasantness vanished from their tone. “This special unit is exactly the same as the rest of police—tied up by politics and money, supporting those above rather than dismantling their corruption. But since you are investigating Claire and I have no further information to give, I am not hindering your investigation. You have nothing to hold me. Mesdames, call me back once you decide to sniff around Montrant Industries’ business. Until then, I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

  They swooped their pen off the table, bowed in salutations to both of them, then strode out of the interrogation room. Élise did nothing to stop them, her jaw clenched, her breathing coming in and out slowly. The door clicked behind Kouna, and she finally sighed. “Well, that was unhelpful. I’ll get a proper warrant for interrogation and drag their ass right back to this chair.”

  “I think we should investigate Montrant.” Adèle dropped the words like she would a bomb, steeling herself for impact. Élise had not been very receptive to the idea the first time, so why would she be now? She spun around to stare at Adèle, gesturing for an explanation. Adèle obliged. “Claire busted in my sister’s bedroom last night to ask questions about the exocores’ fabrication and the science involved. My sis works with something similar at the moment. She told me Claire was quite insistent on piercing the secret behind Montrant. I think if we do it before her, we’ll be able to anticipate her next step and catch her.”

  “Perhaps… Certainly, nothing we have tried so far has led us closer to her.” Élise’s hand started drawing circles on the table beside her, a habit Adèle had come to identify as nervous thoughts. “If we do so, however, we must be subtle. Montrant Industries is a secretive organization and its network reaches deep. Investigating them will require a delicate touch, or we risk upsetting the beast.”

  “I thought ‘upsetting the beast’ was why we existed,” Adèle said. Kouna had clearly hoped so, or they would not even have agreed to talk with them. “What if they are up to something wrong?”

  “Then we can dismantle them after we catch Claire,” she replied. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Our target is Claire, not Montrant Industries. If we can use them as bait, however, we might be able to achieve a quick result. I’ll speak with Koyani about it. We could use Mx. Kouna’s eagerness to leak it out.” Élise’s smile widened as she voiced her thoughts and the idea took a clearer form. “Thank your sister. I believe she provided the honey with which to trap our fly.”

  “I will.”

  Yet instead of the excitement she ought to feel, a quiet dread filled Adèle. Based on Nsia Kouna’s words, Claire was working solo to dismantle a mysterious and dangerous entity. Worse, Emmanuelle had clearly described the girl as frazzled and afraid—which she had also been, the night Adèle had drunkenly tried to arrest her. You have no idea what’s going on, she’d said, raw and angry. Adèle still didn’t, and now she feared she might never learn. Adèle knew the kind of hunch building in her mind: whether or not they brought Claire into custody before investigating Montrant Industries, she would dig into their business and see what she could find.

  -13-

  L’AIDE-XUBÉRANTE

  Loud knocks on his front bay windows startled Claude awake. He scrambled out of bed, his heart racing as his visitor hammered again, harder and harder. Did they want to break the glass? Claude let out a low moan and rubbed his eyes.

  “I’m coming!” he called. “Just a moment.”

  He grabbed his binder and pulled it on carefully, before slipping a loose shirt over his head and retying his long hair. Part of him wished not to, but with all the hammering, he didn’t have time to think on gender and presentation too carefully. The problem with sleeping in the late afternoon was that some people had no respect for his wonky schedule. They barged in at ungodly hours of the day and rammed his door until he answered. This visitor was assaulting the bakery’s window, too, which meant he could expect an angry customer ignoring the Fermé sign.

  Or perhaps it was Adèle. He hoped not. Keeping a straight face during her short passage with Emmanuelle had drained him, and he didn’t think he could succeed again. This charade needed to end soon. Every new meeting with Adèle tired him. All those omissions, those lies… it felt too much like pretending he was someone else, that Claire shouldn’t exist instead of allowing her to shine as the very essential part of him she was. Not knowing when he could clear that up and simply be was as exhausting as the lies themselves. Eyes still beady, his heart increasingly turning into a shrivelled, tired mess, Claude emerged into his shop to check who was at the door.

  There was no mistaking the stocky frame and frizzy hair of the woman gesturing at him from the wide display windows. “Zita?”

  Zita pointed to the door and vanished from sight. No doubt if he didn’t open, she’d beat at it again, and those tiny arms of hers could pack a punch. Claude opened, and a look at Zita’s scowl warned him something was wrong. He probably knew why, but trying to drag his half-asleep brain to provide an answer was too much at the moment.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “You tell me!” She strode inside, slammed the door, then whirled on him. “You promised you would come back to explain. But no, poof, no news for a week!” Zita threw her arms up and poked his chest. “You can’t push me around swearing Livia has been kidnapped and it might be Clémence and refuse to elaborate—just saying ‘not now’—and never return, leaving me to stew in my fears and confusion. That’s a shitty way to treat a friend.”

  Claude reeled from the onslaught, trying desperately to wake himself fully. He wasn’t ready for Zita, and she deserved him to be. She was right about this: he shouldn’t have forgotten her. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m
not done,” she snapped, and her intensity shocked his mind into full awareness. Zita’s unrelenting cheerfulness had vanished, and the seething anger under it frightened him. “I didn’t just sit on my ass for a week. I was scared out of my wits, so I tried to find Livia again. And when that didn’t work, I started Seeking the other witches that had gone missing—all those I’d passed Clémence’s messages to and who had disappeared? I applied all my knowledge to their signature energy, going off what I remembered of them and what I’ve learned of my powers through the years. I figured if I could track down one or two of them…” She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “I sensed dozens of them. They’re different, I’m not sure why they don’t feel the same, but it’s them. And most of their locations were split between two places—two gatherings of people. I picked the smallest, to check it out, see for myself what was going on since you wouldn’t tell me… and here I am.”

  Claude’s stomach tightened. He forced himself not to glance down and tried to keep panic off his face. Here, under his feet, in a pile of exocores. What could he say now? “You mean…”

  “They’re in your bakery, Claude.” Her tone was colder than Livia’s ice magic. “I don’t like being played for a fool, and I won’t be kept in the dark. You’re lucky you’re my friend, or I would have gone to the police, even at the risk of revealing my powers. You better have a good explanation, though, and no more dodging me!”

  A tight ball of fear clogged his throat, and Claude struggled to get any coherent thoughts in his mind. He stared at the floor, twisting his body to the side, away from Zita, as if he could escape her glare while she stood right before him, hands on her hips. Ever since Livia had been kidnapped, he had endured the weight of the exocores’ secret alone. His own fault, perhaps, but dodging police pursuit and lying to Adèle and keeping his business running while trying to find a single clue to uproot Montrant had left him completely drained. And every day that passed, Livia’s time slipped away. How long before they turned her into an exocore? Had they done so already? He couldn’t think clearly anymore, and he needed help. He should have asked ages ago.

 

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