Death by Denim Read Online Free PDF

place?”
    I stared at her. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that only for if we became separated?”
    “We will be. But only for a short while.” She flushed the note away and turned to face me, but she couldn’t meet my eyes. My stomach felt hollow. This was not my usual in-control mom.
    “What is it?”
    She just shook her head and raked her fingers through her still-damp hair. I couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers were trembling. That’s when I got really scared.
    “Mom . . .”
    She grasped my hand. “Wait for me at the phone booth under the glass dome at the Saint-Lazare station. And if you don’t see me within—”
    “I’m coming with you.”
    She shook her head. “Not this time.”
    “Why? What’s wrong, Mom?”
    “Aphra, I need to ask you to trust me on this. I’ll tell you eveything as soon as I can, but now is not the time. I’m sorry.”
    “How long will you be?”
    Ignoring my question, she pulled the money from her pocket and peeled off four large bills. “Put these away. Wait for me at Saint-Lazare. If I am not there in two hours, go to the U.S. consulate.”
    I was genuinely scared by then. “What’s going on? What was in that note?”
    Finally, Mom gave in. “It was from Gérard Lévêque,” she said in a low voice. “He says we must leave Paris immediately. I’m to meet him for instructions.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Wait for me at Saint-Lazare. I love you.”
    And then she was gone.
    If ever I needed a signal that she still thought of me as her little girl, that kiss was it. And as much as the gesture made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, I didn’t want her to see me as a helpless little girl just then. I needed her to believe in me. Maybe that’s why I chose to do what I did.
    I waited for a few seconds and then eased out of the ladies’ room to follow her. I know I had promised that I would wait at Saint-Lazare, but I couldn’t leave her. Like she said that morning, when a person lets her emotions think for her, that’s when she gets into trouble. Well, the way she had reacted, I knew the note had evoked an emotional response that wasn’t allowing her to think rationally.
    The desk clerk barely glanced up as I ran from the lobby, which was a good thing because I’m sure my face would have betrayed too much. I tried to hide the worry as I jogged down the street toward the Metro, but I’m not sure I succeeded.
    I hid behind the station sign, watching my mom pace up and down the platform, waiting for the train. I felt naked. Exposed. Because I could think of only one reason Lévêque would warn us to leave Paris. The Mole had found us again.
    When the train arrived, I slipped onto the car next to the one my mom took. I positioned myself behind a large man in a Les Bleus T-shirt and watched her through the sliding door.
    Every time we made a stop and more people pushed on board, my chest grew tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe. And each time the doors slid closed, it felt like a snare snapping shut, over and over again.
    Mom got off the train at the Esplanade de la Défense station. She jogged along a gravel path that followed the contours of the Seine until she had to stop for traffic at the intersection of a large bridge. On the other side of the bridge stretched a huge wooded park.
    I ducked and hid in the bushes along the path until the route was clear, and then eased out into the foot traffic, following her down a wide path that led through the trees.
    If she hadn’t been distracted, there’s no way I could have gotten away with following her without her knowing. It just served as further proof that she was not herself. She needed me.
    As parks go, the one I followed her through that day was beyond beautiful. The running path wound past lakes and miniature waterfalls, and was canopied by tall oak trees that must have been hundreds of years old. Sometime in its history, the park must have been part of an estate; an elegant mansion