The Lost Girls of Paris - Pam Jenoff Page 0,127

“He confessed to the murder of Julian Brookhouse. Said that he shot him personally at SD headquarters in Paris in May 1944.”

Mick’s eyes widened. “You got all that in ten minutes?”

She nodded. “If he denies it tell him that I was secretly recording the conversation. And that I am prepared to testify against him at trial.” The first part was a lie; the latter was not.

Mick turned toward the cell. “I need to go in there and speak with him now, before the transport comes. If you don’t want to wait for me, I’ll have one of the orderlies drive you back to base.”

“I’ll wait,” she said. She had nothing but time now.

A few minutes later, Mick came out of the cell. “Kriegler asked to see you once more.” Surprised, she walked in to once again face the most evil man she had ever encountered.

“I’m going to cooperate with the Americans.” His expression was somber now, and she knew Mick had confronted him with the evidence about killing Julian. “But before I do, I want to help you.” It was a lie, she knew. He wanted the truth about the girls to go with him to his grave. Only there was fear in his eyes now. “If I do, will you put in a good word for leniency for me?”

“Yes.” She would never forgive Kriegler or let him walk free again. But a long life alone with his crimes seemed more punishing.

The German’s eyes glinted. He slid something across the table. It fell to the ground and he kicked it toward her. It was a small key. How he had managed to hang on to it through his arrest and interrogation was beyond her. “Credit Suisse in Zurich,” he said. “Box 9127.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“An insurance policy, so to speak,” he said cryptically. “Documents that hold the answers you’ve been looking for.” Eleanor’s heartbeat quickened. “I’ll never walk free again, but I will give you the answers for Marie and the other four I sent—and their daughters.” It was, perhaps, the smallest act of contrition.

Then something about his words stuck. “Did you say that there were five girls?” He nodded. “Are you certain?”

“They all left Paris together. I signed the order myself. One died when the train car exploded.”

Four should have arrived. “But the witness’s report only spoke of three girls. What happened to the other?”

“Never accounted for. There were a dozen ways she could have died. But for all I know she might be alive.”

Eleanor leaped up and burst from the jail cell, starting past Mick in a run.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Eleanor

Zurich, 1946

A light snow had begun to fall as Eleanor crossed the Parade-platz and started toward the massive stone headquarters of the Credit Suisse. As bells of Fraumünster Church pealed nine thirty in the distance, she wove between the suited bankers making their way to work.

Eleanor had left Germany in a haze, traveling south by train. They crossed the snow-covered Swiss Alps, which just a year ago had formed a natural barrier to escape for so many, without incident. She clutched the key Kriegler had given her during the entire trip.

Mick had run after her as she fled Kriegler’s cell. “Do you think it’s true?” she’d demanded of him. “Do you think one of my girls could still be alive?”

“That’s tough.” Mick hesitated. “I want to say yes. But you know the odds. The man is a liar. Even if he is telling the truth about putting a fifth girl on the train in Paris, that doesn’t mean she’s alive. If she was, she would have turned up by now. There are a dozen reasons she might not have made it to the camp, none good. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“There’s probably nothing in the safe-deposit box either.” She waited for him to disagree, but he did not.

“So don’t go,” he said instead. “Stay here. Help us with the trial.”

“If Kriegler had given you a lead about one of your men, would you leave it alone?”

“No, I suppose I couldn’t.” He understood that it was impossible to walk away from even the slightest sliver of hope of finding those who had been lost. “Then go see what’s there and come back quick. You’re a damn fine woman, Eleanor Trigg. We could use someone like you here permanently. We could use you,” Mick had pressed. “Your experience would make a great addition to our team.”

Was he really trying to recruit her? Flattered, Eleanor considered the

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