36It was cold and it was late, but Molly decided to walk home instead of getting the taxi. She smiled at Vincent on her way out, waved at Lawrence who had decided to have one last Negroni, and set off for rue des Chênes and home. The village was quiet. All the shops locked up tight, only a few lights on in houses and apartments along the way. On the edge of the village she could hear the faint sound of pop music coming from somewhere, so faint she could hardly make it out.
The moon was nearly full and she needed no light to see.
Her mind was filled with a jumble of thoughts: how she hoped Dufort would come through with an arrest, because having a sociopath on the loose was less than comforting; how much she loved Castillac and had no regrets about moving there; how the walk to La Baraque
