How To Fake Your Death

Stake-Out Conversations

"I should have known something was off!" Cléo yelled. "She hasn't contacted me in weeks. After America, I hadn't heard from her. And Jean was in America the same time as us, remember? He must've thought that she could lead him to us!"

I stared at the bottom of my bed. Should I tell her? I glanced at Bart, who had an apathetic but an intrigued look. He never cared for Eulalie, but he was interested in the fact that Jean was apparently to blame for her abduction.

"We have to save her!" Cléo announced, walking towards the door, cane in hand.

"Woah, slow down there, cowboy," Bart said, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around. This annoyed her and she held up her cane in a threatening way. Bart got the message and took a few steps back, "Are you sure?"

"Positive! I told her how old fashioned that perfume of her's was, but she insisted that she wear it." Cléo explained.

"Okay. But, are you sure about the whole hostage thing?" Bart asked.

"Yes! Why else wouldn't she have contacted me by now? She hasn't resigned or anything." Cléo couldn't stand still. She limped around the room, her cane becoming more of an accessory than a helpful tool. "She must have come Austria, expecting to meet us here, but before she could find us, Jean swooped in and took her! That must have been how he found out what hospital I was staying at, and how he got in touch with Sol."

I bit my lip. I mean, she wasn't wrong. I'm sure Eulalie had told Jean where I was. But, she was most definitely not a hostage. Cléo continued ranting, "Poor, poor Eulalie! She must be so terrified! We must help her!" She stopped in her tracks for the first time since her epiphany and turned to face me, "Would you say something, for God's sake!"

I gulped, overwhelmed by the sudden awkward attention placed onto me. "Well, if she is in danger, we must help. But, I am confined to my bed." I explained, stretching my arms out as if presenting a magic trick. I was not fond of Eulalie. I didn't want to find her. But, I wouldn't mind Cléo discovering the truth.

"Oh, you're fine!" Cléo said, "Doctor said you should be able to get up and run around perfectly in four days. In the meantime, we will find out what Valentin's home address is. Finally! Something exciting!"

"So, you are going to leave me here?" I asked.

"Well, you said I could!" Cléo answered, defensively.

"Yeah, but I was trying to guilt-trip you into staying here with me," I admitted, quietly.

"I knew that. I will visit you. But Eulalie is important-"

"More important than me?"

"Well," her expression flickered. And with that, it had been decided. Yes, I had made up my mind. I wanted to see Cléo's look after her realisation of betrayal. But I had to be there for it.

"Ok, fine. I'll get his address, you guys find his place. But, do nothing until I am out of the hospital, okay?"

Bart and Cléo both nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it," Cléo came to my bedside and kissed my forehead. I refused to make eye-contact with her.

"Bart, will you show Cléo to our hotel, please." I asked him. He looked as if he would rather do jail time, but he nodded and opened the door for her.

"I'll see you later?" He said, but phrased as a question. I nodded in response. He shot me a smile, and closed the door after he and Cléo had stepped out.

Once the room had been emptied, I felt my fatigue pour over me like a tsunami. The pain from my ribs surged like a forest fire, spreading itself across my chest. My leg where I had been stabbed was numb, so it didn't offer any overwhelming type of pain. I shuffled myself lower under the sheets and tried to get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can get with broken ribs.