Almost Gone

by Ophelia Night

  The questions were starting to panic Cassie. She remembered Pierre’s threats to her. How he had promised that if she didn’t play his game, he would tell the police she’d been searching his room, and they would arrest her.

  She was seriously worried that he might have told the police about that already, in an effort to paint a picture of her as unreliable and dishonest. Or, an even worse scenario, that Pierre didn’t need to do that because he had a “good friend” in the local constabulary, just as the community’s doctor was his “good friend.”

  It was obvious to Cassie what must have happened. Pierre and Margot had been fighting last night. She’d been drunk and aggressive beyond reason, and must have provoked him to violence, which he’d taken too far. They’d fought, and he’d pushed her over the balcony in a fit of rage. Then he had left in a hurry, so that he could prove he hadn’t been home at the time.

  Pierre was wealthy and powerful, and Cassie knew that he had no scruples about using his wealth and power to get what he wanted. He had a huge amount of influence within his community; it seemed that even those people who spoke badly of him were reluctant to discuss the facts openly, and were afraid of repercussions.

  If Pierre had created an alibi for himself, Cassie knew he would need an alternative suspect, because somebody had to be accused of the crime.

  If the police hadn’t already arrested Pierre, that meant he was pointing them in another direction. Cassie could see already, from what he’d told the detectives, how his mind was working, and she felt sick with fear as she started to understand his plans.

  Who better to take the blame for this crime than the new arrival in the community—the unstable, insignificant, and entirely dispensable au pair?

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Cassie sat opposite the detectives, staring down at her clasped hands with their torn and bitten cuticles. She knew how badly she’d messed up the interview. Pieced together, the evidence painted a bleak picture. The fight she’d had with Margot, and her packed bags, told a story all on their own. Her excessive use of medication, and forgetting basic facts that a responsible au pair should have remembered, would convince the police she was unreliable and untrustworthy.

  She couldn’t have chosen a worse time to overdose on the incorrect meds. The gaps in her memory were incriminating her, and if the police learned about the disturbing dream she had—if it was a dream at all—it would add to the weight of evidence against her.

  She sensed that the writing was on the wall and she couldn’t think of a way to counteract the evidence stacked up against her.

  Her fears were confirmed by Granger.

  “We will need to interview you again, after speaking to the children. Please remain in the bedroom with them when you go upstairs.”

  The questioning of the children seemed like a mere formality, a box to tick before the processes swung inexorably into action. She could picture what would happen next. She wondered whether or not they’d handcuff her, and prayed they wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle that without breaking down completely, and if Ella saw, she would be traumatized.

  As Cassie stood up, a reckless idea came to her, along with a sudden surge of hope. Perhaps she could simply run away. Would there be time? Could she leave the chalet, maybe even make it to the airport, before they noticed she had gone?

  As if he’d read her mind, Detective Granger cleared his throat.

  “We will require you to hand over your passport now.”

  Cassie’s right hand dropped automatically to her jacket pocket, where it was safely zipped in.

  She saw the detective had noticed her gesture. He knew she had the document on her. She couldn’t buy another minute of time.

  “For how long will you need it?” she asked.

  Her final flicker of optimism, that perhaps they just had to make a copy of the document, was snuffed out by his brusque response.

  “We’ll hold it until we have concluded the investigation.”

  Despair sitting cold in her stomach, Cassie handed it over, hoping she would get an official receipt for it, but that didn’t seem to be part of the protocol. Granger simply took it. That made her doubly nervous. She had no proof now that she was in the country legally, and also no idea where the passport would be kept. What if they lost it or it just disappeared?

  Granger accompanied her back to Ella’s room. Marnie, who had been supervising the children, saw Cassie’s stricken face. She gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand supportively as she left. The unexpected gesture of friendship had Cassie blinking tears away.

  “The crime scene team is still working in the house, so do not leave the room. Please would you come with me, mademoiselle.”

  Granger nodded to Antoinette.

  As Antoinette followed the detective out, Cassie wondered if the forensic team would take fingerprints in the bedroom. If so they would find plenty of hers there. She’d touched many surfaces in the frantic search for her passport. The presence of those fingerprints would confirm their opinion of her as dishonest.

  Even though she was shaky with hunger, she felt more nauseous than ever. She picked up the plate of food, but looking at the cream cheese croissants, fruit, and pain au chocolat that Marnie had brought made her want to throw up. She pushed the plate away.

  Marc was engrossed in a comic book, but Ella was watching her curiously.

  “Cassie, are you upset?” she asked.

  Cassie sighed. She wanted to protect Ella from the outcome that was likely to occur, but there was going to be no way of shielding her from the truth when Cassie was escorted to the police car.

  “Yes,” she said. “The detectives don’t know where I was last night. So that means I’m what is called a ‘suspect,’ and I might to go away with them just now. If I do, I don’t know when I’ll come back.”

  Ella’s forehead creased and her lower lip wobbled, but to Cassie’s relief she didn’t burst into tears.

  “Have a strawberry,” Cassie said, offering her the plate.

  She hoped the food would cheer Ella up or at least provide a distraction. Ella seemed calmer as she nibbled on the strawberry, but the frown didn’t leave her face.

  A few minutes later, Antoinette was back, and Granger marched downstairs again with Marc in tow.

  Antoinette looked poised and smug, as if the questioning had been a test that she’d easily passed. Looking at her complacent face, Cassie was jolted by the memory of Antoinette saying, “I could kill her.” That had been just a couple of days ago, after Margot had verbally attacked her during dinner.

  Cassie knew how vicious the blonde-haired woman could be. She hadn’t hesitated to say terrible things to Antoinette, even when others were present. What had she said last night, to reduce Antoinette to tears?

  Cassie wondered if a twelve-year-old could push a grown woman over a waist-high balcony. She didn’t think that Antoinette would have managed if Margot had fought back, but perhaps she hadn’t.

  She had a vision of Margot, alone on the balcony, leaning on the rail. Doing what? Perhaps throwing up, or smoking a cigarette, or maybe just pondering her life.

  A determined shove from behind could have sent a drunken woman headfirst over the parapet, especially if she wasn’t expecting it.

  It would have been a lucky coincidence, but Cassie knew all too well about Antoinette’s knack for taking advantage of a situation.

  Given this ability, she was sure Antoinette would have told the police all about the fight between Cassie and Margot. Antoinette might even have exaggerated how serious it had been, which would cast further doubt on Cassie’s version.

  “What did the detectives ask you?” she said to Antoinette.

  “Not too much.”

  Antoinette gave her a secretive smile, as if she sensed Cassie’s anxiety. Clearly, she wasn’t going to reassure her at all.

  Ten minutes later, Marc arrived back and it was Ella’s turn. She followed Granger obediently downstairs and Ma
rc returned to his comic book, untroubled by his experience. Cassie guessed that they’d simply confirmed that he was in bed and asleep at the time.

  They had to wait awhile before Ella’s interview was concluded. Cassie wondered if she had become tearful while being questioned. She hoped that they had been sympathetic to the young girl, and not tried to bully answers out of her.

  When she heard Granger’s footsteps, nervousness uncoiled inside her. She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what lay ahead.

  To her surprise, the detective was alone. She’d expected him to bring Ella upstairs.

  “Please come with me,” he said to Cassie. “The scene has been cleared, and the forensics team has finished their work, so the other children can go back to their rooms now.”

  Cassie wanted to warn Antoinette and Marc about what might happen, but her mouth felt dry and she couldn’t think of the right words. She couldn’t even ask Antoinette to look after Ella and make sure she didn’t peek out the window, because she had no idea where Ella had gone.

  When they walked into the dining room, Cassie saw that Ella was still there. She was sitting next to Detective Bisset, holding her hand tightly.

  Granger indicated to Cassie to take a seat, while he paged through his interview notes.

  “Cassie, Ella Dubois has told us that you attended to her last night, as she was crying, and that you slept the rest of the night in her bedroom. Is that correct?”

  Dumbfounded, Cassie stared at Ella, who innocently returned her gaze.

  Cassie couldn’t believe what she had heard.

  This was an unexpected lifeline. Although the testimony of a five-year-old was not likely to hold up in court, for the time being it gave her an alibi and also corroborated her account of what had happened the previous night. Perhaps it had helped to redeem her in the eyes of the police. After the way she’d messed up the interview, she needed all the help she could get.

  Because her account of the previous night had been so fragmented, she hadn’t actually told the police that she’d gone back to her room after attending to Ella. That omission would work in her favor. She’d just have to be careful what she said now, and how she phrased it.

  “Didn’t I tell you that?” she asked, sounding surprised. “Ella gets very upset by her nightmares. She’s terrified of them recurring. I found out on the first night I was here that the only way she could go to sleep again was if I stayed with her.”

  “Do you know what time you went to Ella’s room?” Granger asked.

  “I finished packing at about nine p.m. Then I got into bed, and as I was about to go to sleep, I thought I heard someone outside my room. I opened the door to see if one of the children needed me. There was nobody there, but I heard Pierre and Margot arguing in their bedroom,” Cassie said slowly. “Then I got back into bed. I was upset by the argument and I kept listening out for the children. After all, if I had heard the shouting, they might have, too, and it would have been distressing for them.”

  She saw Bisset nodding and felt a flicker of encouragement as she continued.

  “I remember wondering when I went to Ella’s room, whether the angry voices might even have caused her nightmare. I know when I was younger I used to have nightmares after I overheard family fights. It’s very disturbing on a deep level, especially for a younger child, as it erodes your sense of security.”

  Now Bisset was regarding her with definite sympathy.

  “The timeline. Do you have an idea when Ella’s nightmare happened?” Granger reminded her.

  Even though the edge of accusation had gone from his voice, and he sounded carefully neutral, Cassie was sure he was waiting and watching for her to slip up. She was certain he didn’t trust her account of events.

  “Sorry, sorry, I got sidetracked. The timing—well, I was about to fall asleep when Ella screamed. So it wasn’t too long after I got back into bed.”

  Granger sighed. “You didn’t notice a clock? Or look at your phone?”

  Cassie was about to say she hadn’t when with a flash, another memory came to her.

  “Wait!” she said sharply, and both detectives looked at her with sudden interest.

  “The moon.”

  Cassie closed her eyes, trying to summon the details.

  “I only remembered it now. Ella wanted air. She had been buried under the blankets and she was sweltering, so hot I thought she might have been feverish. Anyway, she had been battling to breathe so I opened her window a crack, and when I did that, I noticed that the moon was just above the horizon—almost touching the hills. I don’t know if it was rising or setting. If I hadn’t been so stressed about Ella, I would have spent some time watching, because it was beautiful. I should have told you earlier but it slipped my mind.”

  She remembered now that the moon had looked rather eerie, as well. Thinking of it made her want to shiver without quite knowing why.

  Granger nodded. “That’s helpful,” he said. “It’s not exact, but that does give us an approximate time.”

  He was scribbling notes furiously and Cassie guessed he would put together a timeline. She had no idea what time Pierre would have left the chateau—or claimed that he had left—or even how accurately the time of Margot’s death could be determined. But Ella’s testimony seemed to have saved her for now. The detectives exchanged a glance and the tight knot in Cassie’s stomach eased just a little as Bisset gave a small nod.

  “We will not need you to come in for further questioning at this time,” Granger said decisively and Cassie felt like bursting into tears with relief.

  “However, you must remain on the premises. We will still keep your passport, at least for a few more days. And we may need to interview you again.”

  “I’m worried about my passport. It went missing from my room once already, and I was super-stressed until I found it,” Cassie pleaded. “Is there any way I could have it back?”

  Before Granger spoke, Cassie could see from his face this was not an option.

  “This is standard procedure we follow for every person of interest in an investigation who is not a French citizen. However, you need not worry. It will be kept safe, and we will remain in frequent contact.”

  Cassie guessed that was all the reassurance she was going to get. But at least, thanks to Ella, she was free to leave the room—if not the country.

  Before she left, Granger handed her a business card with his name, phone number, and email. The email was useless to her in the chateau, but at least she could call the detective if she remembered anything else important.

  Then Cassie took Ella’s hand, and they walked out of the dining room together. She felt weak with relief as she left the room. The door had barely closed before she heard Granger and Bisset conferring in lowered voices.

  Now that she was no longer worried about her imminent arrest, Cassie had another concern.

  “Ella,” she said gently, as they walked upstairs.

  “Yes?” Ella looked trustingly up at her.

  “Why did you say I was in your room all night?”

  Ella shrugged, seemingly untroubled by what she’d done.

  “I thought you were,” she said simply. “You said you wouldn’t leave me, didn’t you?”

  Cassie frowned, feeling uneasy at Ella’s response. Did the young girl genuinely think she had stayed with her all night? Perhaps she was creating a more comforting reality for herself, where people she loved did not suddenly disappear. Or, more disturbingly, she had deliberately lied to the detectives to keep Cassie with her.

  Either way, although she was still a suspect, Ella’s words had given the police enough reasonable doubt not to arrest her on the spot.

  That meant, surely, that the police would focus on Pierre again.

  Cassie was certain that he would be asked to accompany the detectives for further questioning. As she unpacked some dolls for Ella to play with, she wondered what she should tell the children. It might be better to leave the details and just say Pierr
e had gone out.

  Cassie helped Ella arrange the dolls in a circle, balancing them on wooden chairs. They were having a tea party. Ella chatted happily to herself as she pretended to pour the tea. She seemed unfazed by her encounter with the police, and Cassie wondered again whether she’d purposely lied.

  When she heard voices in the hallway, Cassie jumped up and ran to her bedroom, where she had the best view of what was happening outside the front door.

  Peering through the window, she saw the two detectives heading toward a white Citroen. Bisset put on a pair of dark glasses and climbed into the driver’s seat. Granger, who was carrying a large briefcase, opened the trunk and stowed it inside, before hurrying to the passenger side, tugging his jacket closed against the chilly, gusting drizzle.

  Pierre wasn’t with them, so they couldn’t be questioning him again. Where did that leave the investigation? Cassie pressed her lips together, wondering whether Pierre really did have the local police in his pocket as she’d feared. And if so, what that meant for her.

  As she watched the unmarked sedan depart, Cassie considered her own situation.

  With her passport unavailable to her, she was a prisoner in Pierre’s house. He knew his efforts to pin the blame for Margot’s death on Cassie had failed. She wondered if Pierre would be angry about that, or whether he would try to resolve the situation another way.

  As the Citroen drove off, Cassie’s arms prickled with gooseflesh as she thought about what another way might mean.

  Realizing her breath had misted up the bedroom window, she moved back. There was no point in staring through the foggy glass. The police had gone, leaving her in a house where a suspicious death had occurred, without any means of escaping.

  Cassie tried to calm herself by applying logical thought.

  She was sure that if there had been enough evidence, the police would have arrested Pierre, or at least taken him in for further questioning. Perhaps that meant there were factors at play that she didn’t know about. Somebody else could be a suspect or the police might even think it had been accidental. For all she knew, Pierre had last seen Margot dancing crazily on the balcony with a bottle of vodka in her hand.