The Model Spy

Chapter 13 - The Sewers of Paris

I released every tear my eyes could manage, soaking my pillow until it was damp and sticky with salty tears. Finally, I sat up and wiped my eyes on the ends of the soft quilt, smearing makeup across its white fabric.

I had never felt so completely alone. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I felt like I was in a dark tunnel that was slowly closing in on me, squeezing me, and offering me no way of escape.

The complexity of the case was only making matters worse. I didn’t know who to trust or who to turn to.

Maybe it was better off if I did leave. 

Zach wanted me gone and made no secret about it. He could handle this case by himself and get his stupid promotion. I’d never have to look at his ugly face ever again, no matter how attractive it was.

How easy it would be to quit. Much easier than what laid ahead if I had stayed. I was sick of everything being so hard. For once, I wanted the easy way out.

I grabbed my suitcase and hastily threw all of my clothes in it, jumbling them into wrinkly balls and bunched-up squares, squeezing them into the suitcase in any way that they could fit. I also made sure to grab the plate of complimentary chocolates on my bedside table. The way I was feeling, I would definitely need them.

I closed the suitcase and sat on it as I struggled to lock the small, metal clasps. When they finally clicked shut, I sighed heavily. Before I could change my mind, I swept all of my folders and files into one messy stack of papers. I tried not to look at the faces of the young models staring up at me.

Clumsily I held the papers under one arm and pulled the suitcase down the spiral stairs to the living area. I tossed my other bags over both of my shoulders. My rolling suitcase thumped loudly, causing Zach to jump up from his spot on the sofa where he had been sitting, his head resting in his hands.

When he stood, he appeared smaller. He had shed his arrogant shell. His back was hunched and his fingers were nervously entwining themselves around each other. His face was long and pale, overcome with guilt. He looked at me first, ready to speak, until he noticed the suitcase rolling behind me, loudly bumping along the wooden floor.

“Are you leaving?” he asked me.

“You wanted me to,” I huffed as I pulled the suitcase to the door. “Here.” I thrust the papers and files at him. Some fell loose from their folders, fluttering to Zach’s feet.

Zach was at a loss for words. His eyes took in me and then my luggage and back again to me, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t even offer to help me with my bags, not that I would have let him anyway. For the first time, Zach was speechless.

I grabbed my coat and threw it on.  I would have to hunt down a cab once I got outside and it was bound to be chilly. As I opened the door to go, Zach finally spoke.

“A hotel employee dropped this off when you were upstairs. He said it was from Dylan.” He shoved a magazine at me. That wasn’t what I expected him to say. I grabbed it from his hands, nearly ripping it in the process.

Without a word, I walked out. I cringed at the sound of the door slamming. I couldn’t move away from the room. I almost wanted to turn around and go back, to make things right.

He hadn’t meant to hurt me. Zach was a lot of things, but he wasn’t vicious. He was angry earlier. And so was I. We both said things we didn’t mean. He was looking out for me…

Suddenly the door locked behind me. I heard Zach’s fingers working with the many locks. One by one they sealed, barring me from changing my mind, from reentering the room.