meant the flat was back . . . that way. Kat spun. She didn’t recognize those buildings either. Stupid, stupid, stupid. By far the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done, Kathleen Whitford. It’ll only be by a miracle you don’t deserve that you make it through the night alive.
Gathering Ellie from the wall, she turned them around the corner. The stale waters of the Seine hit her nose. Good. If they could get to the river, then she could decide the better direction.
Click, click. Falling brass nails sounded quieter than their heels.
“Have I ever told you how impressed I am that you can keep it together when you don’t know what you’re doing?” Hiccup.
“One of us has to. Reliance can be rather difficult to obtain.”
“That sounds a smidge resent—” Hiccup. “—ful to me, but that wouldn’t be like you, would it? Always the perfect response at the perfect time. Perfect, dutiful Kat. Not like me. The downfall of the glorious Wh—” Hiccup. “—itford name. That’s why I’m glad you’re always there to take care of me.”
The truth stumbled across the resentment Kat held locked down, pricking it open to freshened bitterness. It was never a sentiment she dwelled on. How could she when it came to helping her only sister, who hadn’t a clue how to take care of herself? Yet she could not deny the growing evidence. “I may not always be here to take care of you.”
“Won’t you? But then I’ll have Eric.” Ellie’s arms curled around Kat’s waist as her head fell to her shoulder, oblivious to the danger creeping around them. “Eric would know where we’re going. Eric knows everything.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“Tuesday—” Hiccup. “—shouldn’t make a difference.” Ellie’s bitter tone was the last remnant of the night’s long tirade against him and all men who dangled women like a worm on a hook. “He’s here in Paris with me. Not—” Hiccup. “—back there in the land of sauerkraut and sausage.”
“Why does here or there make a difference on Tuesdays?”
“He’s got obligations on Tuesday.”
“Like what?”
Ellie’s head popped up as she staggered over a crack in the footpath. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you. You’d act all superior and come down on me like a mighty hand of justice. Like Father.”
“Promise I won’t.”
“Promises. I’ve heard a lot of those lately.” Ellie’s steps slowed to a halt. Wistfulness blinked slowly in her hazy blue eyes. “He loves me.”
Kat’s heart squeezed. She wanted to rip the word from Ellie’s mouth and gouge it from her own ears for hearing it. Hate and love couldn’t exist in the same space. One would destroy the other, and for a Nazi hate was sure to win. And yet she’d seen the soft, unguarded looks he’d bestowed on Ellie. She hated the truth crawling over her lips. “I’m sure he does. In his own way.”
“Loves me every day of the week except Tuesdays.” Sorrow hinged Ellie’s words. Dropping her arms from Kat’s waist, she reeled into the street and spun with her arms out wide. “Why not every day? I’d be so easy to love. Remember that song, Kitty Kat? Come dance with me.”
“Keep your voice down!” Kat grabbed her arms and forced her to a stop. “If we’re caught out here after curfew, we’re going to jail.”
“Wer ist da drauβen?”
Kat clapped her hand over Ellie’s mouth. Blood pounded, spiking adrenaline through her veins like thousands of needles. Get out of the street. Get out of the street. Clutching the back of Ellie’s dress, she pushed them to the footpath. Ellie’s heel caught a sewer grate, pitching her forward.
“Halt!” Two German soldiers appeared around the corner. Rifles held ready at their sides.
“Get up, Ellie. Get up!” Kat hauled Ellie to her feet.
The soldiers sprinted across the street, shouting, with rifles pointed straight at them. Standing in front of and behind them, they dipped their rifle muzzles in surprise at their catch.
Kat shook her head as they garbled out questions. Her German was barely passible, but their heavily accented Low Saxon was impossible to follow. Passing frustrated looks to each other, they slung the rifles over their shoulders. The soldier who was more boy than man spoke again. “Französisch?”
Mouth as dry as cotton balls, Kat nodded. Yes, she knew French.
“Papers.” With only the one French word spoken, it was clear he hadn’t aced his foreign language classes. He held out his hand, fingertips beckoning with impatience.
Reaching into her handbag and Ellie’s, Kat pulled out their fake papers and handed them to him. Terror screamed