Sandman Read Online Free Page B

round-up—yes, yes, but they would have known the Occupier seldom does more than glance at the ID photos of children. Still, why not simply keep their own papers, unless, of course, there was a deeper reason.’
    He thought a bit. He stroked the dove, his eyes never leaving the girl. ‘Did you know the killer?’ he asked her. ‘Did you wish to taunt him with the mistake he had made? Did you intend to show him your new ID as proof positive perhaps, or did you think he would demand it from you, only to realize then what had happened? Would that have been sufficient to have stopped him? Is this not what you, in your schoolgirl wisdom, thought?’
    One had to put oneself into the mind of a child to understand the reasoning, flawed though it sometimes was and frightening.
    Again he waited but asked at last and more firmly, ‘How is it, please, that you knew you would be followed, and why, please, were you here without supervision if you were spending the holiday with the sisters?’
    Questions … there were always so many of them. ‘The time was midafternoon. Did the two of you lead the one who was following you into the Jardin d’Acclimatation? The Villa Vernet, it is not far. The heiress came out of her house with her own papers but with your ID photo on them. You had left the convent school and had done likewise with your own papers. You both knew you would have to exchange coats and hats quickly and continue on so as to allow for no break in being followed.
    â€˜Was the switch made among some fir trees or behind one of the puppet theatres or near the miniature railway where children of all ages congregate? Or was it in the zoo or at the little Norman farm where uncomplaining goats and chickens endure the constant attentions of children? A place was needed where you would be shielded only for a moment. The coats and hats first, and then the note pressed into your hand.’
    Setting the dove back on its perch, he shifted the contents of his overcoat pockets and patiently gathered the loot, carefully noting each item as he tucked it away.
    Everything in him said to cover her, to ease the knitting needle out, to say, Forgive us for letting such a thing happen to you or to anyone else. We will see that it does not happen again. On this matter, you have my solemn promise.
    Four other girls , he reminded himself. All killed in essentially the same manner, though this they would have to check. But for now there was at least a definite difference. Now it was two girls together, both of whom must have thought they knew what they were doing. You poor thing,’ he said. ‘We don’t even know your name, do we, or where your parents are. Nor do we know where your little friend is.’
    The heiress …
    Carved among its oak flowers, the signboard said: THE GAMEKEEPER’S COTTAGE . Kohler hit the door with the flat of his shoe. The shock tore the feathers from the dove in the custodian’s hands, causing them to flutter before a miserable fire of ill-gotten twigs.
    The bird was dropped to join the row of others, all naked of their feathers and lying on the hearth. The hands crept up to throw their shadows on the tiled floor and timbered ceiling.
    Stepping into the otherwise darkened room, Kohler used a heel to close the door behind him. Now only the sound of the fire and the gentle hiss of chimney droplets came to him as tears coursed from very worried, wounded eyes behind rimless glasses.
    â€˜So, a few questions, mon fin. Don’t even think of lowering your hands. Hey, it makes me nervous, eh? Grab warmer air. Stretch for it.’
    Gilbert Amirault was half-Italian by the look of him and rounded about the middle from knees to neck. The tattered black leather jerkin was buttoned up so tightly two of the buttons had been lost forever. The plum-dark corduroy trousers had birdshit so ground into the knees they were irretrievably bleached.
    â€˜Getting ready for a banquet,