Page 62 of Where the Snakes Sleep

“That does not mean no crime occurred.”

I stare at him. Something about his certainty steadies me. “Okay.”

He speaks into the phone in rapid-fire French—I catch only the address and my surname—and when he hangs up, he doesn’t slip the phone away. He positions himself between me and the cottage door, broad chest a shadowy barrier.

“You don’t need to shield me,” I mutter.

“I am not.”

“You literally moved in front of me.”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

His mouth tightens. The tension hums between us, and for some twisted reason I feel safer.

We wait. The sky dims further. My adrenaline quiets, replaced by a flush of embarrassment. Maybe I forgot to lock the door. Maybe the rug shifted when I brushed past it. No. I know better.

My eyes wander over Camille’s bare feet against the damp grass, his pants dusted with pollen. I’m wearing shorts that need washing, a T-shirt stained with berry juice, groceries wilting on the porch behind me.

“This is awkward,” I murmur.

He regards me evenly. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is a useful explanation.”

“I was kind of planning on avoiding you.”

His eyebrow arches. Fantastic. Why did I say that?

“Were you?”

“Forget it.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Ryan.”

“Do not ‘Ryan’ me right now.”

His attention sharpens, bright and heavy. “You left suddenly last night.”

My shoulders curl in. “Yeah.”

“Were you alright after returning home?”

“I—” I don’t know. “Yeah. I ate the peach slices too. Thank you for that.”

His lips quirk—almost a smile. “De rien.” You’re welcome.

A car pulls into the drive before I have the chance to say anything incriminating. Two gendarmes in dark wool coats stroll in—one older and one younger. Luckily, both understand enough English that they don’t have to sit through an unbearable show of me sifting through my French vocabulary to describe the situation. After I finish my story, they step into the cottage; Camille remains with me, still a shield.

After several quiet minutes, the younger officer returns. “No person.” His voice is soft.