They bumped along the dirt road, every pothole sending shocks through Marielle’s body. The blanket scratched her face. Hay dust tickled her nose, threatening to make her want to sneeze.
Suddenly, the truck slowed and then stopped. Marielle frowned to herself. They couldn’t have reached Lyon already.
Footsteps sounded, then a man spoke in halting French with an American accent. “Madame, we need to check your vehicle.”
“Check? For what?” Madame Laurier sounded confused. Annoyed. Very French.
“Routine security. We’re looking for?—”
“I have honey. And cheese. Would you like to buy some?”
“Ma’am, we just need to?—”
“Fifteen euros for the honey. Very good honey. My bees?—”
“We don’t want honey. We need to see in the back of your truck.”
Under the blanket, Marielle held her breath. She found Olivia’s hand and squeezed. Liv squeezed back tightly.
The footsteps grew louder, closer.
“Madame, what’s under the blanket?”
“I told you, my honey and my cheese. For the market in Lyon. They love my chèvre there. It’s a creamy dessert cheese. Perfect with honey and figs, fifteen euros also. For you, twenty euros for the honey and the cheese, oui?”
Marielle stifled a laugh.
“We’re not buying anything,” the man said impatiently.
“Tant pis. You want I should unpack everything? It will take time. Maybe you could help?”
A long pause.
Then a different voice, dismissive, “Let her through. She’s just an old lady.”
The truck lurched forward again.
They drove for what felt like hours before the truck stopped again and the cab door opened and closed.
Madame Laugier untied the blanket and pulled it loose.
They sat up and blinked at the brightness of the sunlight. The old pickup truck was parked directly in front of the visitors’ entrance to an imposing steel and glass building. They were at Interpol Headquarters.
Madame Laugier helped them down from the truck bed and handed them their bags. Then she took Marielle’s face in her rough hands and kissed both cheeks. She did the same to Olivia. And then to Hanna.
“Ce que femme veut, Diet le veut,” she said firmly. Then she climbed back into her truck and drove away.
“What did she say?” Olivia asked.
“What woman wants, God wants,” Hanna answered.
Marielle smiled. “It means when a woman is determined, she’ll find a way. As if God Himself has willed it.”
Olivia cackled. “Right on.”
They stood on the sidewalk for a moment, pulling the last bits of hay from their hair. Marielle could smell earth and honey on her clothes.
“Well,” Olivia said. “We look like we’ve been hiding in a truck bed.”