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to a far row. “There.” He began sidling through the cars. “Conor,” he called.

It was the Jaguar, spattered with mud and ice. The turquoise sedan was parked at an angle, haphazardly. Pascal, first to arrive, leaned down to peer inside. He tried all the door handles. He pushed the button on the boot but it too was locked.

“Empty,” Pascal told them as they exclaimed about the Jag. “He must be around here somewhere.”

“Why would he leave it here? Why would he still be here?” Elise asked.

“Out of petrol probably,” Conor said. “Uncle Richard told me the tank was nearly empty. Gabriel could be anywhere now.”

Pascal whipped out his mobile phone again and spent ten minutes calling in the sighting of the stolen car, speaking to several people, repeating himself, until he finally got DI Powe on the line.

“Yes, right here in Monmouth. Car park on—” He craned his neck for street signs.

Conor said, “Glendower, at Worcester.”

“Send one of yours over,” Pascal told the detective. “We’ll wait.”

The four of them lingered around the carpark, watching side streets for any sign of Gabriel Tremblay, until a female constable arrived in her patrol car. She thanked them and sent them on their way.

“Do you think he’ll come back for the car?” Merle asked as they drove out of town.

“I doubt it,” Pascal said. “I thought he would sell it but that would prove difficult without the proper paperwork. If it is out of gas, as Conor says, then it has no use to him.”

“It’s so showy,” Elise said. “Not the best getaway car.”

Conor smiled. “Uncle Richard will be thrilled.”

Chapter Fourteen

By the time they arrived at Monnow House it was nearly three in the afternoon. The sun broke through the clouds for a few minutes, warming the facade of the cottage and making the icicles drip. Inside the drawing room was empty and the house was quiet.

“Where is everyone?” Elise asked Conor.

“Aubrey and her gang went sightseeing again. Not sure about anyone else,” Conor said. He turned to Pascal. “Drink?”

“I’m good. I wonder if we should find your parents.”

Conor nodded. “No time like the present.” In the hall he took a deep breath and knocked on the library door. His father called out to enter.

“Is Mum around?” Evans sat in position at his computer as usual.

“Looking for a rehab place, I believe,” his father said, frowning. “In our room.”

Conor hesitated. Should he tell his father what they found out? Better to start with Isabelle. “Where is Duncan then? And Pauline.”

“No idea. Haven’t seen them all day.”

Conor shut the door and mounted the stairs. At his parents’ bedroom he knocked again, turned the knob, and poked his head inside. “Mum?”

“Come in, chéri.” Isabelle sat curled in an armchair next to another fireplace. This one had a good blaze; the room was toasty. She smiled at her son. “Comment ça va?”

He sat down opposite her and stared at the flames. “We found out something just now. Pascal did.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting. “Pauline, it seems, is not the person she presented to us. Her real name is Agnés Loup. She works at the same temp agency that sent the chef and the other girl here.”

“Oh? Is she working here, is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know. But she is not a model.” He swallowed. “She was arrested in France a few years ago for assaulting her boyfriend. She’s on probation and wasn’t to leave the country. Probably why she’s using a false name.”

Isabelle didn’t look very surprised. “I see.”

“Someone needs to tell Duncan. And talk to Pauline, see what game she’s playing.” Isabelle looked away, sadness softening her features. “I’d like to know how Duncan met her.”

Isabelle said, “At a nightclub, correct?”

“I’d like more details. I don’t trust her, Mum. Do you?”

Her eyes darted around the room. “My laptop is missing. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Conor squinted. “You think she took it?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who came without one. Besides Audette and Gini and they don’t seem the type. Even the children have their own tablets.” Isabelle sighed. “Yes, it crossed my mind that she took it. She may not want me to find a rehab center for Duncan. Maybe he asked her to take it so I wouldn’t be able to search for a spot, I don’t know.”

“Have you seen it since Sabine and Gabriel went missing?”

She thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, I had it yesterday morning in the drawing room.”

“Do you want me to go with you? To talk to her?” Conor asked.

She examined his face then stood up. “Please.”

They walked to other end of the hallway where Conor knocked on the door to the green bedroom.

Pauline opened the door an inch, as before. She glanced nervously at Isabelle then at Conor. “Oui?”

In French Isabelle asked to have a word with her. Pauline turned to the room briefly, switching to English. “Duncan is sleeping again. It is good for him, you think? All this sleep?”

“Probably so,” Isabelle said. “Come with us. To my bedroom. There’s a nice fire in the hearth.”

In his parents’ bedroom Conor stood by the windows as the women took the two chairs fireside. Pauline perched nervously on the edge of the cushion, wearing the ridiculous pink boots, oversized sweater, and purple leggings. When Isabelle didn’t speak, Pauline said, “What can I do? Can I help?”

The older woman sighed. “You can be truthful with us, Pauline. Or should I call you Agnés?”

Pauline began to shake, turning red in the face then tears started streaming down her face. “How did— oh, god. How did you find me?”

“You found us, Pauline. You came to us, didn’t you?”

Pauline sniffed, wiping her face with a sleeve of her sweater. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you hear about Duncan at the agency? This Louis Bordeaux— did he tell you about us?”

She blinked, her mascara running down her cheeks. “What? I— no.”

“How did you meet Duncan?”

“At a club, not long ago. Maybe a month.” Pauline scrunched up her

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