Why the hell did he sneak around to get to a bakery?

I glare at the sign he flipped after stepping in. Closed. The entire thing sits as well as a bucket hat with me. Something smells off, and it has nothing to do with what I suspect he allegedly did to my sister and everything to do with that face just before he slipped in through the door.

Fear.

Carter Thebes was scared. Of that bakery or someone/something in there. But why? And why was he going in alone if he didn't want to?

I inch closer to the kerb, see if I can look through the glass, but the afternoon sun is reflecting on the windows and I see squat. An uneasiness prickles my neck. I followed Carter all the way on this stupid trip because I was certain of his guilt, but something is wrong here.

Without thinking, I call Neil. At the first ring, I'm tapping my foot. At the second ring, I start chewing my lip. At the third ring, I'm ready to curse him and his tardiness when Neil answers.

"You still in one piece?"

"Barely," I breathe, baking under the midday Paris sun. "I think he's upto something."

"News flash, you've always thought he's been upto something." Neil grunts and drops his phone. A "Fuck... sorry, give me a second.. it's a friend of mine..." spills into my ear, and then he's back again. "But enlighten me. What did he do—or what do you think he did this time?"

"Is this a bad time?" I grumble, noting a break in the traffic big enough that I can dash across the street and plaster my nose on the boulangerie window.

"I was—never mind what I was doing." Neil clears his throat and lowers his voice. "What's up? You need me to get on the next flight and come help you already?"

"No." I shade my eyes with a hand and peer into what looks like an empty bakery. "My spidey senses are tingling."

"Why? How many spidey senses do you have?" Neil chuckles quietly. "I was on a hot date, and by hot, we just abandoned dinner and came back to my place 'cause I finally get my place to myself without a certain someone coming to crash here every few days..."

"He entered a bakery ten minutes, flipped a sign—closed, I assume—and disappeared. I'm literally looking in right now, and it's empty, so you tell me. What should I make of this?"

"Maybe you made a mistake and he didn't go in there?"

"I was literally across the street, hiding behind a pillar half the size of me when he went in." I walk to the door and try to push it, but it's locked.

"Maybe he left with someone?"

"He said he was meeting a friend," I offer, looking through the glass again, but inside, there's nothing but an empty, cold shop.

"There you go. He probably met a friend who's a baker—didn't think millionaires made baker friends, but hey, everybody's got to eat."

"Neil!" I hiss into the phone. "I'm gonna go see if there's a back entrance down the alley."

"Dude. Paris is dangerous. You sure you should be going down any alleyways alone? I should have gone with you. Or stopped you."

"Neil, I'm a cop."

"Not in Paris, you're not."

"I'll be fine."

"Oh, good. I'll hear about you on the news soon then." He sighs. I can imagine he'd be massaging the bridge of his nose as he often does when he's frustrated with me. "Instead of playing cop there, you should just seduce him, you know. Men talk far more easily when buttered than someone holding them in a chokehold or cornered in some shady alleyway."

I pause at the mouth of the alleyway two shops down. "Seduce?"

"Yeah," he hisses again. "Why don't you get started, and I'll be right there, babylicious," he's voice is slightly muffled, and I assume he's covered it with a hand to talk to his date. I can imagine what a time I might have interrupted and cringe. "Look, I gotta go before things chill, but... I thought that's what this whole thing was about, with you pretending to be some blue-collared princess, borrowing all these clothes and whatnot, to seduce. To get the bastard to confess about Nina. So what the fuck are you doing going down alleyways in France? You know you're not a cop there, yeah—should something happen. 'Cause you can go to prison if you do something to the bastard."

"Seduce?" I repeat, as if I didn't just hear him ranting. When I come to the end of the alley, I see back doors to the shops and try the bakery once again. "Fuck. Closed."

"Anna! Did you hear what I said?" Neil snaps on the other end of the line.

"Yes, yes, yes. Seduce." I roll my eyes. "'Cause that'll be so much easier than beating the truth out of him."

"Yes." His voice hardens. "It's called the art of seduction, and who better to try it on than a proven Casanova? All right. Stay safe. Kiss, hug, squeeze if you have to, but if you don't check in with me in eight hours, I'll board the first flight available and hunt your ass down and bring you home."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I scan the alleyway to see where they could have gone without me seeing, but honestly, there's nothing that stands out. "Art of seduction, got it." I hang up and peer up at the small window on the second floor facing the alleyway, but even this reveals very little what with a thick curtain drawn over it.

Was Carter still inside, maybe watching me through that window? Had he slipped out through the back with his friend, undetected, before I even crossed the road? Was I really using the wrong tactic in handling him? But what if he saw me earlier, following him? If I go the seduction route—my last resort—how do I explain why I followed him in the first place? I was fairly sure he saw me once, if not twice.

I try the back door again, just in case. Where the hell did he go?

How did I lose a guy so easily? And what did that say about my abilities?

Fuck. I kick at a pebble, which goes and hits the door. Maybe Neil's right. I'm out of my depths here, and seduction would be easier. Except I'm as seductive as a stapler at an election party.

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