Emilie went through four boxes of books she had just purchased, sliding them to the rear aisle of All Things Napoleon. When she had time, she would add them to the shelves. She yawned, tired from not having slept well. It had taken hours to convince Jacques she had only tried to reach her family on the telephone, making sure they were safe. Even though she had hung up as soon as she saw him, it was a reasonable explanation. He should have no reason to doubt it—except for her perfect command of the German language. As harmful as it could have been, she suspected he hadn’t heard the entire conversation. Eventually he seemed to believe it was innocent, and that her linguistic abilities were common for someone who grew up on the border.
She was walking toward the front of the store when a Ger
