Chapter 7 - Sophie

Sophie Serrat had been running for nineteen minutes.

She knew because she counted when she was scared.

Her mother had taught her that.

Count steps.

Count doors.

Count breaths.

Numbers kept panic from becoming stupid decisions.

Four hundred and twelve steps through the warehouse.

Twenty-three down a drainage path.

Three fences.

One cut palm.

Two men behind her.

Sophie crawled beneath a chain-link gate and landed hard on wet concrete.

Her ankle hurt.

She kept moving.

Her mother had told her one thing before pushing her through the maintenance door.

“Find Thomas Delacourt.”

Sophie had stared at her.

“The man from the pictures?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Émilie had hesitated.

Then shouted as footsteps approached.

“Because he's your father.”

Now Sophie ran with that sentence pounding through her head.

Your father.

Her mother had told her Thomas was someone who had once mattered.

Someone who couldn't safely know about them.

She had never said father.

Sophie reached a road.

Cars raced past.

She waved.

Nobody stopped.

A black sedan appeared behind her.

Too slow.

Looking.

Sophie ducked into an alley.

Her pocket vibrated.

The red transmitter.

Her grandfather Pierre had given her a matching device years earlier.

“If you're ever in real trouble,” he'd told her, “hold the button for five seconds.”

She had done that six hours ago.

Now she pressed it again.

Three flashes.

Somewhere, hopefully, another red light would answer.

Back at Madeleine's house, Thomas stared at his device.

It pulsed.

Then the tiny display changed.

A series of numbers appeared.

Sarah looked over his shoulder.

“Coordinates.”

Thomas grabbed his phone.

“Can you map them?”

Sarah typed quickly.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

She looked up.

“Industrial district near the river.”

Thomas was already moving.

Madeleine caught his arm.

“You don't know whether that's Sophie.”

“It activated right after Émilie said she escaped.”

“Thomas.”

He stopped.

Madeleine's face broke.

“I should have told you.”

“This isn't the time.”

“I know.”

She held his gaze.

“But if something happens to you before I say it—Pierre didn't make me promise because he wanted to punish you.”

Thomas's face hardened.

“Feels pretty close.”

“He cried.”

Thomas went still.

“I saw your father cry twice in forty-five years.”

Madeleine swallowed.

“Once when his mother died.”

She looked at the red device.

“And once the night Émilie disappeared.”

Thomas said nothing.

Madeleine whispered, “Whatever he did, he believed he was saving you.”

Thomas's anger didn't disappear.

But it changed shape.

Sarah called from the doorway.

“We have to move.”

Thomas followed.

The coordinates led them to an abandoned tire shop near the river.

Sarah parked behind a delivery truck.

They got out.

“Stay close,” she said.

Thomas didn't.

He heard something behind a dumpster.

A scrape.

Then a small figure swung a piece of metal at his head.

Thomas barely ducked.

“Whoa!”

A girl backed away.

Brown hair.

Blood on one hand.

Terrified eyes.

Sophie's eyes.

Thomas couldn't speak.

She held the metal pipe between them.

“Don't come closer.”

“Sophie?”

Her face changed.

“How do you know my name?”

Thomas slowly lowered his hands.

“My name is Thomas.”

She stared at him.

Then at his face.

Her eyes filled.

“You're him.”

Thomas's throat closed.

Before he could answer, Sarah shouted.

“Down!”

A gunshot cracked through the alley.

Thomas threw himself over Sophie.

Another bullet struck the brick wall.

Sarah fired back.

A black sedan shot away from the curb.

Thomas held Sophie against the pavement.

She was shaking.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked at him.

Really looked.

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Then whispered the question that destroyed him.

“Why didn't you ever come find me?”