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32 | perfect crime

Miranda's words kept on plaguing me long after she said them.

What was there to realise? What was going on between Soler and me? Was there anything to think about, or was I simply overanalysing?

I'd never been in such a situation before. I'd never had to worry about a guy, or devote any of my thoughts to how I felt for a guy, least of all Soler.

Over the years, I'd just grown accustomed to our fights, our constant race to outdo the other...it had become a part and parcel of my life. I'd never thought so deep into our relationship until now.

Because now, things had admittedly changed. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I'd be saying such a thing, but here I was.

In a way, maybe I cared about him. I thought about my own reaction when he'd saved me from that bullet in the narrow alley in old London. I thought about how scared I'd been for him, how I'd treated his wound.

Soler was right. Would I have reacted that way if I didn't care even a bit about him?

I let out a small groan. This freak-out was officially making my head hurt, and all this overthinking about one person wasn't going to solve my case for me.

I needed to stop thinking about him and just act normal. Be civil, be friendly (unless he gets on your nerves) and don't analyse every little thing he does.

There. That was a solid plan.

I willed myself to get back to work, get myself in that headspace instead of focusing on Soler. I looked at the pictures from the gala, heard the audio from Soler's watch again and again.

If we wanted to get anywhere, we needed to find out as much as we could about Isabella Hill.

I tried to think back to the day we first spoke on the phone. Every thing she'd said, every piece of information she'd given me, I recalled. I reflected on the day I met her at the café in Paris. What she was wearing, how she spoke to me, what she said.

Every little detail needed to be paid close attention to.

Suddenly, I remembered she'd taken the metro back. I'd watched her walk away towards the Lamarck Caulaincourt station after our conversation at the café.

I quickly switched on my laptop and opened a map of the station, to see which metro routes passed through it. Isabella had mentioned she'd been meeting some friends in Paris when I saw her (though I doubted her credibility now). Maybe, by inspecting the metro routes, I could try to narrow down a list of places she could've gone to, after our rendezvous at the café. Then I could try to see if any of those were probable options where she could've been staying.

It was a long shot. I mean, there were many stations and each of those presented a host of possible locations for her to stay in. But I had to try nonetheless.

All of a sudden, something different caught my eye. The site which featured the map of the station, also had a few tourist-targeted fun facts written beside the map.

There, in black lettering, I could see the fun fact bold and clear: The Lamarck Caulaincourt station in Montmartre is famously known for being one of the shooting locations for the acclaimed film Amélie.

I sat up. Was this a coincidence? The same station where Isabella Hill had vanished off to, after our meeting at the café, was also the location for the film Amélie? Amélie, of all films?

If this was just a coincidence, it wasn't funny. I felt as if even the station was mocking us, and our ineptitude in this mission.

But a part of me couldn't help but think if this wasn't a coincidence. If the choice of station was also somehow related to the case. Isabella had proven to be a shady character, and so her actions couldn't be trusted completely.