“AIMÉE HAD priorities. Right now they boiled down to loading Chloé’s baby bag for shared care, finding a project proposal she’d misplaced and getting dressed. All in ten minutes. Her cell beeped. Merde! Where had she left it? Chloé, lying in the middle of the duvet on Aimée’s bed, laughed with delight as Miles Davis licked her toes. They played this game all the time. Over the birds chirping outside the open window and Chloé’s dulcet burbling, Aimée traced her phone to her leather motorcycle jac...ket pocket. She saw a voice message received last night after she’d fallen asleep. Merde again! She hit play. Nicu’s voice trembled. “The police tried to frame me.” Panting. “… done nothing and she’s still missing.” His voice was low. “When we were followed …” Shouts and banging in the background drowned out his words. “Please meet me—” The message cut off. Where was he? She hit callback. But a France Telecom recording came on, telling her, “This number does not accept calls.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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