Andre answered before I could ask. ‘It’s because the lights are on in there.’ He reached up to the switch and flicked it; the bistro went black.
There was no way that was going to save us.
‘If he comes in through the French doors, we’re f****d,’ I whispered.
‘He’ll never get them open,’ Andre whispered back. ‘Bolts top and bottom, and the doors still stick so badly, I don’t think they’d budge.’
‘What about...’ I gestured wildly at the front door.
‘I’ve got it.’ He leapt up and ran to the door, turning both locks but there was no floor bolt. ‘Side door.’ He went down the hallway past the office and was back in a few seconds that felt like an hour. ‘All good.’
‘Kitchen door?’
‘Locked and bolted still from last night,’ he said.
‘We have to call the police,’ I said. ‘Connor. Heath. Any
