Page 40 of Thorn

“Allô?” a man answered just as the toilet in the stall next to hers flushed.

“Bonsoir,” Juliette said. “I’ve just arrived into town without a reservation, is it possible that you have a room available?”

“How long will you be staying with us?”

“I believe a week,” Juliette answered.

“Name?”

She blinked. A name? Panic made her feet and hands buzz. “Roxanne,” she said, borrowing from her caregiver. “Roxanne Olson.”

“How many in your party?”

“Just me.” Juliette’s tongue wanted to weave a story. She wanted to say that she was in Paris to practice painting by the Seine or something. But from her dad’s novels, Juliette knew that liars used too many words. They tried to dissemble and hide their lies by throwing out way too many facts. But that was often a tell that was their undoing. Truthful people knew they were being truthful and had no reason to add details.

“Very well, I’m looking. I have a room on the third floor.”

“Oh,” Juliette breathed out. “I’m on crutches. Is there perhaps anything a little lower?”

“The one on the first floor, but the water pipe is broken. It’s possible I could move you down there after the plumber comes to do the repairs. Crutches might be a problem. The stairwells are narrow.”

“Well.” Juliette laughed. “I can always go up and down on my bottom like a toddler.”

“You want to book the room? I’ll need a credit card number.” Juliette heard the words through the ringing tinnitus. It made her feel unsure, unclear, off balance as a mental state more than a physical one. She thought she was understanding but wasn’t completely sure.

Speaking more than one language was helpful in that no matter the language she was communicating in with a stranger, she could always hide her brain confusion behind “speaking in a foreign language” confusion. That masked the embarrassment that she often felt. But here she hoped it masked her fear.

Juliette pulled the VisaFelicitations!card from her belly bag and read out the number.

“This is a gift card,” the man said.

“Yes, I’m a student. That’s all I have, gift cards from my family and some cash.”

“In that case, you’ll need to leave a deposit. Two hundred euro.”

“Yes, of course. That won’t be a problem.” The woman in the toilet next to hers was moaning with stomach discomfort. Juliette tried to block the sound from the registrations guy with her hand. Then came silence and a flush.

“All right Mademoiselle Olson, your confirmation number is 7852332. You just need to sign in and leave your deposit. Your key will be waiting behind the desk.”

Juliette put her phone back in her pocket. She pulled up her jeans. Gave the toilet another flush so it wouldn’t seem odd to any woman who might be paying attention. Pulled on her backpack and stumbled her way out of the disability stall.

She moved to wash her hands and looked into the mirror. Her face was red and slick. Her eyes feverish. She felt her head, and the cool pressure of her hand was such a comfort. She splashed her face with cold water then dried her hands on a paper towel.Come on Juliette, she encouraged herself,one more taxi ride and then a bed.

A bed sounded like Nirvana.

Chapter Twenty

Thorn

Toulouse, France

Saturday, Twenty Thirty-five Hours

Thorn had paid the taxi double to get him there by twenty-hundred thirty hours. And promised another generous payment if the driver would wait at the curb for him as he had a brief conversation.

The light was on in the downstairs area of the little house, and off on the second level. Thorn hoped that meant that someone was still awake to answer as he rapped his knuckles softly against the door.

“I’m calling the police,” a man’s voice called.

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