“It seemed like she was hiding something,” Sergeant Bayer said. “Or it could have been the bad connection. Maybe it was difficult for us to understand each other.”
Ziegler sat back in the chair, his fingers arched together. “At least the line was working,” he muttered. “I’m sure she was nervous, an unannounced call from the enemy. Why do you think she was hiding something?”
“She paused before answering my questions, as if she wanted to carefully craft her reply.”
“She was intimidated,” Ziegler reasoned. “No one expects a call from the Gestapo.”
“Yes, perhaps. Her voice was trembling. But she avoided the questions. She didn’t admit that Jacques Dufort was her husband until I asked her several times.”
Ziegler paused, wondering who the woman on the other end of the line was—an innocent s
