Free In Their Footsteps & Thief of Hearts by Tess Gerritsen Page A

“We’ve been worried sick about you.”
    “I just went for a walk.”
    “You could have left me a note!”

    In Their Footsteps
    79
    “Why? I was right in the neighborhood.” Jordan flopped lazily into a chair. “Having quite a nice evening, too, until some woman started following me around.” Richard’s chin snapped up in surprise. “Woman?”
    “Rather nice-looking. But not my type, really. A bit vampirish for my taste.”
    “Was she blond?” asked Richard. “About five foot five?
    Mid-twenties?”
    Jordan shook his head in amazement. “Next you’ll tell me her name.”
    “Colette.”
    “Is this a new parlor trick, Richard?” Jordan said with a laugh. “ESP?”
    “She’s an agent working for French Intelligence,” said Richard. “Protective surveillance, that’s all.” Beryl gave a sigh of relief. “So that’s why we were followed. And you had me scared out of my wits.”
    “You should be scared,” said Richard. “The man following us wasn’t working for Daumier.”
    “You just said—”
    “Daumier had only one agent assigned to surveillance tonight. That woman, Colette. Apparently she stayed with Jordan.”
    “Then who was following us?” demanded Beryl.
    “I don’t know.”
    There was a silence. Then Jordan asked peevishly,
    “Have I missed something? Why are we all being followed? And when did Richard join the fun?”
    “Richard,” said Beryl tightly, “hasn’t been completely honest with us.”
    “About what?”

    80
    Tess Gerritsen
    “He neglected to mention that he was here in Paris in 1973. He knew Mum and Dad.”
    Jordan’s gaze at once shot to Richard’s face. “Is that why you’re here now?” he asked quietly. “To prevent us from learning the truth?”
    “No,” said Richard. “I’m here to see that the truth doesn’t get you both killed.”
    “Could the truth really be that dangerous?”
    “It’s got someone worried enough to have you both followed.”
    “Then you don’t believe it was a simple murder and suicide,” said Jordan.
    “If it was that simple—if it was just a case of Bernard shooting Madeline and then taking his own life—no one would care about it after all these years. But someone obviously does care. And he—or she—is keeping a close watch on your movements.”
    Beryl, strangely silent, sat down on the bed. Her hair, which she’d gathered back with pins, was starting to loosen, and silky tendrils had drifted down her neck. All at once Richard was struck by her uncanny resemblance to Madeline. It was the hairstyle and the watered-silk dress.
    He recognized that dress now—it was her mother’s. He shook himself to dispel the notion that he was looking at a ghost.
    He decided it was time to tell the truth, and nothing but.
    “I never did believe it,” he said. “Not for a second did I think Bernard pulled that trigger.” Slowly Beryl looked up at him. What he saw in her gaze—the wariness, the mistrust—made him want to reach out to her, to make her believe in him. But trust wasn’t something she was about to give him, not now. Perhaps not ever.

    In Their Footsteps
    81
    “If he didn’t pull the trigger,” she asked, “then who did?” Richard moved to the bed. Gently he touched her face.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m going to help you find out.” After Richard left, Beryl turned to her brother. “I don’t trust him,” she said. “He’s told us too many lies.”
    “He didn’t lie to us exactly,” Jordan observed. “He just left out a few facts.”
    “Oh, right. He conveniently neglects to mention that he knew Mum and Dad. That he was here in Paris when they died. Jordie, for all we know, he could’ve pulled the trigger!”
    “He seems quite chummy with Daumier.”
    “So?”
    “Uncle Hugh trusts Daumier.”
    “Meaning we should trust Richard Wolf?” She shook her head and laughed. “Oh, Jordie, you must be more exhausted than you realize.”
    “And you must be more smitten than you