Page 167 of Captive Ruin

What am I supposed to say to that? ‘He’s a killer, so he doesn’t take me along’? That’s my fate too, eventually and inevitably, and like it did on the plane, my hand starts trembling. I clench it with my other, but I know she’s noticed.

I wish she’d leave me alone.

“Do you get out much when you’re here?” Vicky asks, persistent.

“No.”

Aren’t the one-word answers clue enough? I don’t want you here.

“Oh. Well, I was thinking about borrowing a car—I’m sure Bastien has many—and taking a drive this afternoon. Would you like to come?”

I press my lips thin. Does she really think they’d let me go anywhere with her?

“Don’t joke. We can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

I’m now certain Van Wyk has sent her. She’s testing me. “You know damn well why not.”

“Can’t you drive?” she pokes.

“Of course I can drive.”

“Your husband is an older man, isn’t he? Forty?”

Here we go. What have they discussed between them? “Yeah.”

“Obviously seen a lot of the world.”

“Yeah.”

“He must’ve been…” She pauses thoughtfully. “…married before?”

Fuck. Has someone told her about Juliette? Is this part of the test? Does Van Wyk know I’ve been asking questions?

I cover my consternation with a gulp of wine. “We don’t talk about it.” There, that’s the party line, isn’t it?

“Oh, I’m sure. But divorce can be for the best, you know. After all, now he has you.”

Divorce? It’s a trap. I don’t trust this woman at all. “Yeah.”

“Is she still around?” Vicky probes. “His previous wife, I mean. People sometimes stay friends, right?”

What is this? What’s her goal? “No,” I grind out, “she’s not around.”

“Lucy mentioned you got out for lunch once or twice.”

Total subject change. What is she up to now? I say nothing.

“Maybe we could do lunch,” she suggests.

“Sure.” I wouldn’t even if I could.

“In Paris, perhaps. Get a flight, stay in a hotel, back the next day. They’re good for the money, aren’t they?”

They?

Shit. I’ve got it all wrong. Cold dread runs over my skin.