He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. She examined Michelle’s pale face. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear.
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