“Why are you sitting there in the dark?” April strove to keep her voice neutral and turned to face him, another instinct warning her she’d best not have her back to him.
“The apartment is dark too.” He stood, only an inch taller than she did, but with a raw energy that felt menacing, especially when he moved her way. “At least here is some light,” he said. “Why don’t you stay out here with me where there’s light, April?”
April shuddered. She couldn’t help it, though she was going to continue to pretend everything was normal. She had a sense that showing fear would be the thing to flip him over the edge.
“If there’s no electricity, I’m going to a café. There’s no sense in staying here.” April could hear the breathlessness in her own voice and hoped he didn’t see how afraid she was. She turned—her back to him now—and went for the stairs.
“I’m coming with you then,” Lucas said.
“No.” April took the steps at a fast pace. “I’ll go by myself.” When he started trailing her, close enough to touch, a hysterical sob rose in her throat. She shoved it down.
“It’s a free world, and you can’t really do much to stop me from coming.” His reminder of how little power she had frightened her, as it was meant to do.
It was too dark to run. April quickened her steps past the fifth flour, then the fourth, the silence between them ominous. Clutching the rail, she circled down, with Lucas stalking only a step or two behind her. He touched her arm, and she leapt at the contact.
“Careful, April. In this dark you could break your neck.”
She shrugged off his hand, and for only a moment, anger won out over fear. “Get your hand off me.”
Lucas allowed more space between them, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but she wasn’t sure if he was just biding his time. When he touched her again, her panic came back full throttle. She was being tracked like an animal.
The third floor landing was her chance. April darted away, flying to Victor's door, and pounded on it. “Victor! Victor! It’s April. I need you.” She thought she heard an answering noise in the apartment, but Lucas grabbed her arm and hauled her back toward the stairs.
“You can forget about me being nice now,” he growled.
“Victor!” she called out again. One door opened in the hallway, but a face that didn’t belong to Victor peeked out and quickly shut the door. She wasn’t sure she would have any help from that quarter.
“Shut up,” Lucas said. He pulled her again, and she almost lost her balance on the step.
“Let go of me. I can walk on my own.” April strove for anger, but was engulfed in fear. There was no one in sight. She had to find a way to break his punishing grip.
They were in the foyer now, and as if he read her hopes about coming across another resident—anyone who might help—Lucas yanked her toward the door that led to the alley where the garbage cans were. It was a dead end, except for the other door that led to the courtyard, which was locked on that side. There weren’t even any windows overlooking the alley. No one would see them here. With one hand on her arm, Lucas buzzed the door open with his key chip and pushed her outside.
I can’t let him drag me out there. An incoherent dread suddenly crystalized. It may not be enough for him to assault me. He’s completely out of his senses right now. He may kill me. “Let go of me,” April yelled, again. She ran to the door that led to the courtyard and yanked it open, running through it, but as soon as she was out, Lucas hauled her to a stop and pulled her back toward the alley. She clenched her teeth together and kicked him.
Immediately, there were pinpricks of light in front of her eyes as he brought his arm up and slammed his hand against her face. There was a dizzy shock that left her weightless before her cheekbone throbbed in full force. April doubled over with the pain of it, but in an instant Lucas had his hand around her neck, and he pinned her to the wall.
A door slammed. April heard the sound of running and felt someone pull Lucas away from her. She could breathe again.
“T’es fou?” A voice called out. Are you crazy?
Victor.
April staggered forward, reaching out a weak arm to steady herself, but she found nothing and fell to her hands and knees. Through the haze, she saw Victor take a swing at Lucas. “You—” His fist made contact, but Lucas had punched Victor back in the gut, cutting off the rest of his words.
In a swift movement, Victor stood upright and punched Lucas with a left hook. “You ever touch her again, you’re dead,” Victor shouted and gave another punch for good measure. Lucas slumped to the ground.
Someone above the courtyard opened the window. “Take your party somewhere else. Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Mr. Poulain,” Victor called back, breathless, his eyes on Lucas who was slumped on the cobblestones against the door leading to the alley. “Instead of complaining…” He took a breath and seemed to be mastering his anger. “May I suggest you make yourself useful for once and call the police.”
There was a pause. “D’accord,” Mr. Poulain replied, in a surprisingly meek voice. He pulled his head in to shut the window.
Victor’s breathing slowed, his eyes not leaving Lucas's form, which was still on the ground. He darted a glance April’s way. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, then realized his eyes were trained on Lucas again, who was coming to consciousness. Victor hadn’t seen her nod. “I’m all right.”
“I can’t come to you yet. I don’t know what this crétin might do. Stay there. We’ll get him put away, and then I’ll give you a hand. You’ll have to give a statement to the police. Are you up for it?”
April nodded again and got to her feet. After a minute, she added a weak, “Yes.”
Victor watched warily as Lucas sat up and leaned against the wall. In an instant, he attempted to pull himself to his feet, but Victor shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. You’re staying right there.”
Lucas spat in his direction. “You can’t make me do anything. This is my apartment building, and I’m going home.”
Victor sighed, wearily, and put up his fists. “If you haven’t had enough, we can go another round. But you’re staying here until the police arrive—” He was not able to finish his thought before Lucas leapt up and barreled into Victor’s stomach, before starting for the door that led to the street. With a grunt that turned into a surge, Victor hurled himself after Lucas and grabbed him around the waist, but Lucas pulled forward until they were at the stone archway that led to the street exit. April noticed Victor was not wearing any shoes.
“Lâche moi!” Lucas grunted, straining against Victor's grip.
“Je t’ai dis que non.” I said no! Victor stopped pulling and let Lucas go forward suddenly, which sent his head crashing into the wall. Instead of being dazed, Lucas slammed his heel on Victor’s bare foot and darted the few steps forward, punching the button and yanking open the door. He took off at a sprint.
Victor swore and limped after him, leaving April alone in the alley. She forced herself to take steps toward the stairs that led back into the building. The forlorn sound of the wooden street door clicking shut greeted her ears.
Victor half sprinted until he reached the end of the block before realizing how futile the exercise was. How could he hope to catch him barefoot when he had no idea which direction Lucas went? Heart heavy, he turned his steps back toward his building. Giving the door a shove, he crossed the courtyard in silence until he reached April’s side.
“I’m sorry, April. I lost him. I checked the side streets and alleys nearby, but I have no idea which direction he went, and now he has too much of a head start.”
When she remained mute, his eyes sought her out. She had picked herself up and was leaning against the wall, but she looked shell-shocked. Victor heard the faint sound of sirens that grew louder as they approached the building. Mr. Poulain had come through. The car screeched to a halt followed by four car doors slamming shut.
An
d then they were in—four officers with walkie-talkies that went off with clipped messages and garbled static. They moved as one toward the stairwell, taking in the scene. The leader signaled to Victor. “Are you the one who called?”
“No, someone in the building did, but I can take responsibility for making a statement. Lucas Laguerre was attempting to molest April…” He turned to her. “I don’t know your last name.”
“It’s Caleigh.”
He turned back to the officers. “Mr. Laguerre—he’s a resident in the building—was dragging Mademoiselle Caleigh over there to the alley where the garbage cans were when I caught him. We fought, but he fled the scene.” He looked at April again. “Come,” he said, with a gentle wave. She stood straight, not quite steady, and walked toward him.
“Tell them what happened and I’ll translate for you.”
In a whisper that was difficult to make out, especially in English, she described finding Lucas outside her room and her flight down the stairs with him trailing her. Victor clenched his fists when she described how he seized her in the dark, and he turned to the officer to translate her words.
April faltered when she got to the part about Lucas dragging her into the alley. “I told him to let me go,” she said, “but he hit me across the face.”
Victor translated. “Elle lui a dit de lui laisser tranquille mais il l’a frappé. Là.” Victor pointed to her face, where he noticed the swelling for the first time on her perfect, translucent skin. Fury surged in him, and he felt only the overwhelming desire to beat Lucas to a pulp. If only he were still here.
The police officer finished writing.
“April,” Victor said. “Let me bring you back inside.” He could settle her on his sofa, maybe get her some tisane. Did he have any calming teas in the kitchen?
The officer put an end to that thought. “She needs to come to the station, so I can make an official statement and have her sign that. Does she agree?”
Victor translated the request.
“Absolutely,” April replied, her eyes on the officer. Her voice sounded firmer now, and that brought Victor some measure of relief.
“We’ll follow you there. Where is the préfecture located?”
The officer gave the address and signaled for the other policemen to follow him “We’ll be right behind you,” Victor said. “We’ll take my car.”
The officer waited for April to confirm this with a nod, then tucked his black notepad under his arm.
“You’d better bring ID,” Victor said. “Do you have it on you?” April nodded, and he addressed the officer. “We’ll be right there.”
When the officers left, silence reigned and Victor took a step forward. “Come with me upstairs so I can get my papers.” He looked down. “And my shoes.”
April nodded, but didn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the ground, and Victor's heart sank. She was traumatized. Nothing like her usual self. “Come,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you alone for even a moment.”
Inside, he hit the light switch without thinking, and only when they came on did he remember there had been a power failure earlier. April followed him up the first two of the carpeted steps, but stopped short. “Victor.” Her voice was soft. “I don’t think I can walk up the steps.”
He rushed to her side and lifted his hand to touch her arm, but paused. Would his touch be welcome? He pushed the doubts aside and put his arm around her waist, giving her support.
“The power’s back on. We can take the elevator.” Victor pushed the button on the ancient contraption, and when the elevator arrived, he opened the cage and pushed the door open. As the door closed, he followed his instinct and gently put his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. It lasted only a couple seconds, but she didn’t pull away. In his apartment, he retrieved his papers, and they re-entered the elevator before anyone else called it.
April gave a look of confusion when he led them back outside and toward a door on the side of the courtyard. He explained. “This leads to the garage where I keep my car.” It was satisfying to hear the alarm beep twice and to deposit April safely into the front seat. Nothing could happen to her when she was with him. If only she would talk, maybe then he could ease her pain. It had been nice when she was in his arms.
The visit with the police did not take long. April sat on the folding chair in the office of the lieutenant, while an officer went to get a second chair. The lieutenant typed the statement and printed it out. “Read through this and if everything looks correct, put your signature here,” he said.
Victor read everything out loud, translating as he went. April bit her lip then nodded in agreement. It was not pleasant to relive the event by telling the story and hearing it read back to her. She slid the paper to the spot in front of her and signed. Then the lieutenant made a photocopy of both their IDs and handed them the originals.
“Once we find Mr. Laguerre, he will be put in a holding cell until he goes before a judge at the tribunal to decide whether he is found guilty.”
“Should he not automatically be guilty if we know who did it?” Victor asked before she could voice the same question.
“The word of one witness carries weight, but we will be looking into all the details of the case. If it takes more time, he will be allowed to return home and check into the station each week, but he will not be allowed to leave the country.”
“He will be allowed home?” April’s voice rose a pitch, her brows drawn together. “But that’s also where I live. How will I then be protected from him? How can the attacker be allowed to return to the place where he attacked someone?”
Victor translated the question, then he and the lieutenant spoke back and forth in rapid French. It was hard to read Victor’s expression, though at one point he raised his brow in surprise. He turned to April. “Yes, he is allowed to return, but only if they don’t have sufficient evidence to hold him. They should, based on your testimony and whatever I’ve contributed. I can also comment on his character.”
The lieutenant said something else and Victor turned back to her, but she knew what he was going to say. She’d caught the word, médecin, and knew she would have to see a doctor. Victor explained, adding, “And we’ll have to bring the report and photos back to the station to join with the statement.”
“Of course.” April sighed. It could not be over so easily, but it must be done. Whatever she could do to make sure that Lucas didn’t get out any time soon, she would do.
When the doctor’s visit was finished, and the report dropped back off at the police station, April climbed wearily into Victor's car. They drove down the broad streets, still teeming with life, but the interior of the car was an oasis, with only muted sounds from the street reaching them above the classical music. “I just hope they can find him,” she said.
“They will,” Victor assured her. “As far as I know he only has one home, and it’s here. Where else would he go?”
April had been incapable of saying a single word more than was necessary in the two hours since he had first rescued her. Now she did.
“You saved me. Thank you.”
Victor glanced at her and put his eyes back on the road. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said. “I was in the shower.”
She smiled weakly. “I thought I heard someone in there. And you didn’t even take the time to put your shoes on. Victor—” April rested her hand on his arm as he shifted gears. “I was scared. Really scared. I will never forget what you did for me.”
Victor took his hand off the gear and held hers. “I’m glad I was on time.” He squeezed it, then pulled his hand back and pounded on the steering wheel. “I want to kill him.”
This time it was April who reached for his hand. “No murder necessary,” she said, attempting to smile and failing. “You were there for me, and that was enough.” They held hands until he was forced to change gears.
Chapter 12
At home, they walked in silence from the garage through the courty
ard, the trees making gloomy shapes near the stone façade. A light went on in the stairwell before they walked through the front door of the building.
“Are you going to be okay?” Victor headed for the elevator and punched the button. There was the sound of the elevator cage, then door, snapping shut upstairs, then the old elevator box arrived at a leisurely pace. April shoved down her fear of parting ways with Victor, of going back to her empty room alone.
“I’ll be fine. I mean, I’ll not be at ease until he’s caught, but I can deadbolt my door.” Their gazes met, and she attempted a smile, shifting hers to the stubble on his chin. His eyes remained fixed on her—she could feel it in the silence of the marble hallway—and it warmed her.
The moment was interrupted by the “bonsoir” of a man exiting the elevator, and Victor held the door as she entered. “You know what?” he said, as the door shut behind him. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
April’s heart leapt while at the same time a feeling of alarm stole over her. She felt no fear from Victor's presence. On the contrary. The problem was that she was not a woman who…who was easy, and she wasn’t sure what his proposition entailed. Plus, didn’t he still have feelings for his ex-girlfriend? I mean, they had a baby together.
Victor must have seen her hesitation because he was quick to reassure her. “I have a guest room. The bed is comfortable, I’m told. You will have complete privacy. Even your own bathroom.”
“Um…” The offer was tempting. What was the alternative? Going back to her tiny room on the quiet sixth floor and hoping she didn’t hear a key turn in the lock in the middle of the night? Who would hear her if she screamed—or come to help if they did?
“Come on, April. I promise you’ll be safe with me. And I won’t try anything.” He held his hands up. Then he froze. “Also…I didn’t get a chance to tell you this, but Margaux decided she wants to get married after all, so…”
A Friend in Paris Page 9
