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Over the next hour or so, I feel the bizarre mix of adrenaline and tiredness starting to subside and a deep sense of panic begins to set in.
Jessica and Claude have been talking in French for most of the meal, which has got me wondering what they’re saying. Claude clearly speaks perfect English, so why would they choose to speak in a language they know I can’t understand? I know exactly why: because they don’t want me to understand.
Everything’s happened so fast. My wife’s dead, I’ve been framed for her murder and I’m sitting in a farmhouse in France eating dinner with essentially two complete strangers. Why am I even here? What possible reason could Jessica have for wanting to help me? She’s a runner – I get that. She’s probably run away a hundred times before, and she’s clearly had
